Selvanar
I haven’t told Trisha the extent of my pain to spare her the guilt. I know she feels as if it’s her fault, but I was the one who agreed to use the skin product in the shower. She shouldn’t have to carry that responsibility.
But my skin burns all over, and it’s seeping into my flesh. My vision has gone ever so slightly blurry, and I know it’s only a matter of time before my body gives out.
Lying on the bed of soft cotton inside Trisha’s purse, I try not to think about that.
She carries me out to the car and sets me on the seat beside her before starting the engine.
I tried to give her rough directions—east and slightly south by at least twelve miles, in a protected forest. I know that much, at least. When my grandmother established our hive, she did it in a place she believed we would be safe for the long term, which meant finding wilderness that wouldn’t be demolished for new human homes in the near future.
Then Trisha drives, eyes focused on the road with determination. It warms my heart how sympathetic she is, how she wants nothing more than to help me. This care and consideration is certainly not what I expected of a human, but once again, Trisha proves she is special.
I can sense it as we grow closer to the hive.
I am oriented toward it the way a bird is oriented toward magnetic north, and so I tell Trisha when she needs to turn left or right.
Sometimes there is no road, so she continues on and then doubles back.
Soon, trees surround us, and the car bumps and jostles as we hit uneven road.
“We’re heading into the state park,” she says, concern in her voice. “I can’t go much farther. But once we get to the parking lot, I can carry you the rest of the way.”
I sit up in the purse. “It may be a long distance.”
“That’s all right. I wore my hiking shoes.” She smiles down at me. “We’ll get you there, don’t worry.”
Her assurances comfort me. I believe I can trust Trisha to do what she says.
Once she’s parked the vehicle, she gently picks up the purse and then we’re off into the woods.
Despite my condition, it’s marvelous to be back among the trees. This is my home, what I’m familiar with, and it immediately brings a sense of ease. The hum of civilization has faded, and for once in many days, I have a clear head again.
I give Trisha directions as she walks. She’s able to follow a hiking trail for some distance, but soon she must diverge, which means fighting her way through brush and ferns. But she does it without complaint, and I admire her even more.
As we get closer to the hive, I’m able to give more precise directions. Within an hour of quiet hiking, we reach the magical barrier.
“I don’t think you can continue from here,” I tell her, a bit put out that she can’t come along. I would like to introduce her to my friends and advisors. “If you put me on the ground, I can enter that way.”
Trisha frowns. “I don’t like the idea of you going alone. You can barely move. Are you sure I can’t follow you somehow?”
I shake my head. “The spell is designed to keep out large creatures like you. And bears.”
She snorts. “Good to know I’m in the same class as a bear.”
I smile back, enjoying her good humor. I also wish she could be small like me, and then the spell would let her through.
Wait. That stirs an idea. Perhaps she can be made small.
“There is a garden just north of here,” I say suddenly. “A mushroom grows in that garden that will help.”
“Help?” she asks, eyes brightening. “How?”
I puff out my chest. “It will make you my size, and then you can enter the hive.”
Trisha’s eyes get bigger. “It’ll make me tiny, like you?”
“Indeed.” I nod in the direction of the garden. “Let us go, then.”
Nodding affirmatively, Trisha picks me back up again and heads off into the woods.