food wasn't nearly impossible without having to worry about wild beasts attacking you as well.
The flickering light Maya's parents left burning on the back porch cast a pool of light into the small field beside Maya's home. She let go of Giles' hand and ran towards it. True enough, green shoots of wheat had pushed through the brittle earth, reaching towards the sky.
"I did it, Giles! I really did," she said when he knelt beside her.
He smiled and gazed at her with such softness and love in his eyes she had to look away.
Maya forced her thoughts back to the warmth building in her left arm, pooling in her palm. Somehow, the bracelet helped channel the warmth there and contained it. Now all she had to do was release the life giving energy and the wheat would shoot straight up into the air, ready for harvest. If snow fell in flurries tomorrow it wouldn't matter. They'd have grain to eat and enough seeds for the next planting. The whole town could have enough to eat, all of the starving and poor could have enough grain forever.
Maya fixed the image of healthy, ripe wheat firmly into her thoughts as she let the warmth flow from her fingers and into the soil. She saw it seeping into the earth, feeding the shoots with a life giving drink of energy. She closed her eyes, imagined the wheat saplings growing, turning from green to brown, the grains swaying in the soft summer breeze.
"What are you doing out there, Maya?" her mother called from the back door. Her voice was soft and strained, like she could make it go no higher, like it would break at any moment.
Maya jumped to her feet and hid her left hand behind her back. She waved to her mother with her right. "Coming! I wanted to check on the crops first!"
The hollows in her mother's pale cheeks filled out when she returned the smile. She wore her best dress of red velvet with a collar of lace.
"Come on in, both of you. There's turkey and birthday cake." Her mother waved them inside, still smiling.
"You shouldn't have, Mom," Maya said as she followed her mother inside. Yet the smell of the bird made her mouth water. Baked potatoes lined the turkey, glistening in the half light.
Her father pulled the platter from the oven, and turned to them. "It's not every day our only daughter comes of age. Of course we must celebrate."
They sat in the dining room that they never normally used, and ate off sparkling white china plates with golden scrolls worked into the edges. The turkey was a skinny, wiry thing, yet still the best that Maya had had in a long time. Probably the best that could be gotten anywhere in the Badlands.
Maya joined in as they sang her the happy birthday song, right before she blew out the single candle on her cake. It was the same candle they'd used for quite a few birthdays now.
After they finished the cake, her father uncorked a bottle of wine and poured for all of them. "A toast!" he said and raised his glass. Maya and the rest followed suit. "To Maya, who is now finally old enough to know better!"
"My father, the joker!" Maya said, laughing. She raised her glass and took a long drink. A full glass of wine. She'd only ever had a sip here and there. Finally being of age had its privileges, it seemed.
Her father took a black box with a light blue ribbon tied around it from a drawer by the door, and held it out to Maya. Her mother beamed beside him. "We hope you like it."
Maya kept her smile wide, but inwardly she frowned. The box alone was too costly. They shouldn't have. Not with their last grains destroyed by the floods.
The light in her mother's eyes was so bright, Maya didn't want to destroy the moment. Her mother looked younger, the way Maya remembered her from her earliest birthdays.
She untied the bow and slowly lifted the lid. Light glinted off a golden pendant shaped as a magnificent tree, its branches and roots entwined, encircling it. All thought of refusing the gift evaporated. The intricately carved leaves seemed to
The flickering light Maya's parents left burning on the back porch cast a pool of light into the small field beside Maya's home. She let go of Giles' hand and ran towards it. True enough, green shoots of wheat had pushed through the brittle earth, reaching towards the sky.
"I did it, Giles! I really did," she said when he knelt beside her.
He smiled and gazed at her with such softness and love in his eyes she had to look away.
Maya forced her thoughts back to the warmth building in her left arm, pooling in her palm. Somehow, the bracelet helped channel the warmth there and contained it. Now all she had to do was release the life giving energy and the wheat would shoot straight up into the air, ready for harvest. If snow fell in flurries tomorrow it wouldn't matter. They'd have grain to eat and enough seeds for the next planting. The whole town could have enough to eat, all of the starving and poor could have enough grain forever.
Maya fixed the image of healthy, ripe wheat firmly into her thoughts as she let the warmth flow from her fingers and into the soil. She saw it seeping into the earth, feeding the shoots with a life giving drink of energy. She closed her eyes, imagined the wheat saplings growing, turning from green to brown, the grains swaying in the soft summer breeze.
"What are you doing out there, Maya?" her mother called from the back door. Her voice was soft and strained, like she could make it go no higher, like it would break at any moment.
Maya jumped to her feet and hid her left hand behind her back. She waved to her mother with her right. "Coming! I wanted to check on the crops first!"
The hollows in her mother's pale cheeks filled out when she returned the smile. She wore her best dress of red velvet with a collar of lace.
"Come on in, both of you. There's turkey and birthday cake." Her mother waved them inside, still smiling.
"You shouldn't have, Mom," Maya said as she followed her mother inside. Yet the smell of the bird made her mouth water. Baked potatoes lined the turkey, glistening in the half light.
Her father pulled the platter from the oven, and turned to them. "It's not every day our only daughter comes of age. Of course we must celebrate."
They sat in the dining room that they never normally used, and ate off sparkling white china plates with golden scrolls worked into the edges. The turkey was a skinny, wiry thing, yet still the best that Maya had had in a long time. Probably the best that could be gotten anywhere in the Badlands.
Maya joined in as they sang her the happy birthday song, right before she blew out the single candle on her cake. It was the same candle they'd used for quite a few birthdays now.
After they finished the cake, her father uncorked a bottle of wine and poured for all of them. "A toast!" he said and raised his glass. Maya and the rest followed suit. "To Maya, who is now finally old enough to know better!"
"My father, the joker!" Maya said, laughing. She raised her glass and took a long drink. A full glass of wine. She'd only ever had a sip here and there. Finally being of age had its privileges, it seemed.
Her father took a black box with a light blue ribbon tied around it from a drawer by the door, and held it out to Maya. Her mother beamed beside him. "We hope you like it."
Maya kept her smile wide, but inwardly she frowned. The box alone was too costly. They shouldn't have. Not with their last grains destroyed by the floods.
The light in her mother's eyes was so bright, Maya didn't want to destroy the moment. Her mother looked younger, the way Maya remembered her from her earliest birthdays.
She untied the bow and slowly lifted the lid. Light glinted off a golden pendant shaped as a magnificent tree, its branches and roots entwined, encircling it. All thought of refusing the gift evaporated. The intricately carved leaves seemed to
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