Walking the Tree by Kaaron Warren Page B

neighbouring men were like. You watch out for them. Learn from them, too, though. Learn to appreciate a good man." Logan and Magnolia let tears fall. Lillah tried to remember her school years, walking through Douglas. She did not think badly of the place, but knew that their teachers would likely have protected them carefully.
      Magnolia said, "Say goodlove to my brother, Ebena. You'll like him. He makes me laugh."
      Tax, much settled now, waved goodbye, his family around him.
      The children's long fingernails were cut. "You are big people now." They stared at their odd-looking hands. "My fingers are shorter!" Rham said.
      The teller Annan stood by and told his tales. "When walking the Tree you follow in a noble tradition, you walking women. The Tree is bigger than the land space and you walk the Tree. The first woman walked, too, seeding the ground and seeding the Tree, changing its nature from place to place as she walked. She taught all women about bloodline and she began the telling of the Tree. She left us messages of the dangers, and this is why we don't all walk. Men stay behind to care for the Order, keep it safe and keep it happy. They die of old age, as men should. The women walk and with this walking comes danger. Sometimes a teacher is lost and sometimes a student, but to die as you walk is a very great thing."
      Borag came to stand by the water.
      "What are you eating, Borag?"
      "Bread sprinkled with cinnamon." She ate it with great passion; even a simple piece of bread could excite her.
      "You will learn to control your joy in food when we are given food you dislike."
      "Not a food exists I won't like."
      "We'll see."
      Lillah looked out to sea. If her mother was there, they would have looked out together. It was a thing they did, very early on, when talking about the dangers of the world. Her uncle, too, long gone out there.
     
    In her mapping, Lillah told the Tree: Home of brother too much to say will need this to come from another teacher who does not know us so well.
       Here, the Tree grows berries sweet and bitter. The leaves are dark, the Bark is dry.
     
     
     

Ombu — ALOES — Ailanthus
    It was an easy day's walk, their first one. They knew the terrain, had met and traded with people from Aloes partway. It was a six day walk to the market meeting place, then the same back again. They were allowed to travel to market with the trader as they neared teacher age. This to prepare them for the physicality of the walk and so they would be heading for something familiar, not completely unknown. This market was one of the closest between communities, Lillah knew. In some places, they would walk for thirty days, or ninety, with no sign of another human being, just the Tree and the birds to keep them company.
      The burn Aquifolia had given Lillah itched and wept. She tried to keep it clean but sand worked its way into everything. She knew she'd be scarred: the skin rubbed off as she walked.
      They could smell the moisture in the air and knew that rain would soon come. There was a high wind blowing which frightened Morace and some of the other children. Lillah hoped they would reach the Order Aloes before the real wind started. They would be prepared for it there and have places to shelter.
      The Tree Trunk wept red sap, sticky stuff which the children rolled into balls. The teachers turned away, pretended not to notice. They did not care as much as the older people did; didn't think it disrespectful to play with the sap.
      Rutu, the trader, came with them as far as the market, carrying the clay pots which would be traded or filled with jasmine oil and returned to Ombu. She liked to complain each morning as they rose with the sun and began the work soon after the morning meal.
      "Where do you get your energy? You won't have it in a few months, I guarantee that. You'll need your sleep just like I do. You'll dread the rising of the sun."
      Lillah shrugged.