Root (Energy Anthology) Read Free Page A

used to him, though none would speak of what had happened to him.
    He stumbled across a large field hidden in a grove of trees on the second day. A dozen of the people were scattered throughout the field, on their hands and knees, intently and carefully yanking weeds from crops. Lam watched them closely until he was sure which plants they were pulling, and which they were leaving. He went to an empty space and began inspecting it for the weeds. It felt good to have his hands in the dirt, his knees in the earth. Something felt so natural about the act.
    Nothing was spoken by anyone all that day. A natural collaboration seemed to flow between all involved, an understanding and companionship beyond the need for words. For the first time, Lam began to feel he had a place. He experienced a sense of belonging and having a purpose. His fear of the Others coming to take him began to melt away, taking his confusion with it.
    He returned to the field at first light the next day, and was surprised to find the weeds had re-grown. This field apparently provided never ending work. As soon as one end was weeded, the first end needed picking again.
    Silent nods and bows were exchanged between each new arrival, effectively acknowledging and respecting each other. Lam felt seen, and this caused a pleasant welling in his chest. He seemed to be accepted here, as if he had always come to tend this piece of land each day. He felt a lightness in his heart as he inhaled a deep breath and looked to the sky. He smiled as he studied the large cloud directly overhead. He found this productivity made him feel warm inside like when he was with his mother.
    Just after mid-sun that day, he spotted his mother standing just inside the tree line, watching him. She made no move or gesture toward him, so he was unsure what he should do. He straightened and made it known he was aware of her presence. It occurred to him that he now thought of her as his mother, though he had no memories beyond three days ago, and had only been with her a very short time from his perspective.
    Deciding to follow the cue from his fellow tenders, he nodded to her slightly, and bowed. Ric’ua stood motionless a few moments, then slowly declined her head in return before slipping back into the trees and out of sight.
    That evening, Ric’ua embraced him tightly as he entered the door of their home. No words were spoken, but tears were allowed to flow freely down both their faces. The gesture spoke more than a million words as far as Lam was concerned.
    After the weed plucking the following day, Lam decided to surprise Ric’ua and bring home as many gurja fruits as he could carry. He excitedly went bush to bush, following each new bunch of the bright yellow-green fruits he saw. Something felt very familiar about this. Perhaps he had done this same thing a thousand times before in the times he could not remember. He was aware of a prickling in the back of his mind. Pausing, he glanced around and found he had strayed farther from the field and village than he had realized. He looked up, and saw the faithful, huge cloud hanging overhead. If it held rain, surely it would begin dropping it at any moment now. Lam decided he better head back home.
    He turned the direction he’d come from, and froze in his tracks.
    There, still as the trees themselves, stood five people he immediately knew were not from his village. Although there were no outward indications, Lam knew who they were.
    Others.
    He felt them.
    Tension immediately locked every muscle in Lam’s body. He dropped his bundle of gurja fruits, and they went skittering across the ground. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind at once. Should he climb to the trees again? Bolt and make a run for it? Stand his ground and fight?
    The others remained still as well, merely watching him with their firm, angry faces. Their lack of movement confused Lam. Did they not recognize him after all? Were his feelings they were Others wrong? Why did