“It is dead, Lila. Nothing is bringing it back.” Steven stood above her, his shadow darkening the barren branches in front of her.

She looked up. With the sun behind him, it was like looking up to a human shape void around which the sun shone. “You don’t know that.”

“Why bother with it. Father can just plant another one.” He turned on his heel, a puff of dust rising and dirtying the side of her skirt.

Lila waited until he was a speck across the dried expanse of the meadow before she responded. “Because Momma and I planted this one.” She turned back to the bush and continued digging in compost around its base, watering it with her tears.

When the sun was at its height in the sky and sweat had washed away the tears from her face, Lila stood. Hands on her hips, she stared at the bush.

“I know you have it in you to survive. You’re like me.” She picked up her tools and trudged back to the house.

That night Lila woke up to the sound of rain and smiled before falling back asleep. And outside, across the awakening meadow, there was a sound of cracking wood and red blossoms exploded on the once skeletal sticks.

 

“Momma, what makes the rainbow?” Gavin asked as he held on to his mother’s hand and braced himself against the wind. He squinted down at the cave, as if he could see through the mist.

Before she could reply, another walker said, “It’s just the light refracting through the mist.” He chuckled and walked on, talking loudly to his walking partner.

“What’s refracting?” Gavin asked.

“Means it splits up the light,” his momma said.

His brow furrowed and she smiled.

“Like when I sift flour for cake.”

“Oh.” Gavin nodded. He looked back down as another wave crashed into the shore. “Is that true? It’s just light refracting.”

She stared at the rainbow while it faded like spent fireworks in the sky. “Depends on how you look at it.” She squeezed his hand. “Let’s get going. I’ve got dinner to make.”

Gavin turned and walked back without a fuss. “How do you look at it, Momma?”

“Water makes the rainbow, but the dragon makes the water.”

“Really?” Gavin swiveled around so fast he would have slipped if not for his mother’s firm grip on his hand.

“Mmhmm,” she said and guided him back towards home. “But you mustn’t let the dragon know that you know he’s there or talk about him. He’s a shy fellow. It’s our secret.”

“Cross my heart,” Gavin said and nearly skipped home. A secret to keep was almost as good as seeing a dragon.

And deep in the sea cave, the dragon slept on as his breath caused mist to form with the waves and the walkers above had no idea what lay beneath their feet. Except for one small boy and his momma, and they would never tell.

“It’s beautiful,” Max said as they stopped and looked out across the hills.

“It would be better without the houses,” Grace said as she passed the canteen of water to Max.

He took a gulp and shook his head. “You can barely notice them. Just look that way.” He pointed off to his right. “And you can’t see a thing except grass, sky, and trees.”

She shrugged and waved her hand across the horizon that was dotted with houses. When she lowered her hand, they were gone. “Now you can barely notice them,” Grace said with a smile.

Max sighed. “Put them back, Grace.”

She pouted and stomped her foot. With all her power, it was easy to forget she was still ten.

“Grace,” Max said again with a warning in his voice.

She turned away.

“Put them back, or I’ll tell, Mom.”

“Fine.” Grace swung her arm out in a chopping motion and the houses returned on the horizon, as if they’d never left. “Happy?”

Max squinted at the houses and finally nodded. “That will do. Let’s get going.”

They resumed walking, Grace soon forgetting that she was mad at Max. But the residents whose homes disappeared for an instance could not forget what they saw in that moment, not for as long as they lived.

“I don’t think it works, do you?” Ana asked.

Rita shrugged. “How would I know?” She bent down so she could see the underside of the blue box attached to a rusted line on the side of a telephone pole that looked like splinters would jump off and attack if she got too close. “Do you want to use it?”

Ana laughed. “Of course not, but makes you wonder why it’s here when everyone has cell phones now.”

“Because some people you cannot reach on cell phones,” said a voice behind them that was as rusted as the nails long ago stuck into the side of the phone poll.

Both women spun around to find themselves staring at nothing, but the other side of the empty path. There was no one else around.

Ana laughed, but this time it was tinged with a wavering note that set the hairs on the back of Rita’s neck on alert.

“Let’s get going. I think I’m getting light-headed,” Rita said and took off down the path. “I could use a coffee.”

“Me, too,” Ana said, her voice still pitched too high.

Neither woman looked back as they walked out of the woods and neither ever mentioned the incident, but they also didn’t walk on that path the next time they were in the woods.

“I’m sick of practicing,” Erika whined. “Let’s go get some cotton candy.” The Blacksmithing sign remained untouched, much to her annoyance.

Her sister, Meredith, sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Give me patience, she thought. Why am I always stuck giving her lessons? The headmistress should be overseeing Erika’s woeful attempts at sign manipulation. It wasn’t fair, but that was life. “How ’bout we make a deal?”

Erika smiled. She liked making deals. Usually she got the better end of a deal, except where her sister was involved. She’d have to be careful. “What kind of deal?” Her eyes narrowed.

“You finish your lesson and I’ll buy you cotton candy.”

“That’s it?” Erika pouted.

Meredith smiled. “And I won’t tell Mother you skipped your last three practice sessions.”

Erika’s heart skipped. How did Meredith know about that? She had been gone for over a week.

“Deal?” Meredith asked.

“Deal.” Erika turned and resumed staring at the Blacksmithing sign, beads of sweat forming on her temples as she tried to will the letters to rearrange themselves into the font Meredith had chosen.

Meredith sat down with her back against the lamppost and took out her book. With her sister’s lack of practice, they’d be here until the sun set. At least she’d be able to finish her book.

“Be careful of the dragon!” her mother called after Lisa.

Lisa laughed as she jumped through the snow to get a better look at the dragon sculpture. “It’s not real, Mom!” she called back over her shoulder. Her mother should know she wouldn’t fall for something like that. She was nine and a half, not a baby.

“He could be hibernating,” her mother called.

Lisa walked around the dragon before petting him on the head. “You’re just a statue, but I like you anyway.”

Her mother caught up and stood beside Lisa, her breath puffing out of her mouth like dragon’s steam. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned down at the sculpture. “Seems shifty to me. What is it doing way out here?”

Lisa shook her head and pointed to the building behind it. “Probably belongs to them. Let’s go! I want to get cocoa!”

“Okay,” her mother said and let herself be pulled away from the dragon after giving it one final look.

Lisa clung to her mother’s arm, chattering a mile a minute. Her voice meant that neither heard the metal grown behind them nor saw the steam rise from the dragon’s nostrils as it watched them go.