Annah sighed and settled herself into a crook ofthe feathery branches of the ancient Tree of Havah. Amorning mist shrouded the fields about her, and the coolrose-pink air made her shiver, but these minor discom-forts were worth the temporary sensations of freedomand peace. Her family and the other inhabitants of thesettlement still slept, exhausted after their usual night offeasting, visiting, dancing, and quarreling. Annah did notjoin in these festivities; she had nothing to celebrate.

I do not belong with the others, she thought.To soothe herself, she pulled a carved wooden shuttle

from her woven-grass bag, slung on a branch nearby, andbegan to work on the torn edges of her veil. Patiently shehandled the light threads, knotting pale strands she hadbeaten from the stalks of soaked, crushed wildflowers.Over countless mornings, the knotted threads had be-

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come an intricate gossamer scarf, then a shawl, a headcovering, and finally, an all-encompassing veil.

Aware of the shifting daylight and of her cramped,aching limbs, Annah gazed upward through the branches.The sun would be directly overhead soon. The sky wasno longer the deep crimson of dawn, but a clear andbright pink, with a warm and welcoming sun.

Yerakh, her oldest brother, would wake soon. Annahshuddered, picturing his darkly bearded face, thinking, LetYerakh be happy today.

She tied off one last knot, then tucked the smallwooden shuttle into her bag. Shouldering her bag andveil, and smoothing her straight black hair, Annah clam-bered down from the tree. On the ground, she adjustedher soft leather tunic and stared upward into the tree oncemore.

Had Havah, the Mother of All, truly planted this treewith her own hands? Yerakh scoffed at this story, as hescoffed at all stories of old.

“If you believe that, you’ll believe in the Most Highnext!” he would snap whenever his younger brothers orsisters dared to recite legends in his presence. Yerakh’sdark arrogance and contempt usually silenced them all.But if contempt didn’t work, he used his fists.

Let Yerakh be happy today, Annah repeated in her mind. She scurried through the fields toward the grass-

thatched settlement, aware of tiny creatures all about her,sensing their presence as they sensed hers. There was nofear between Annah and these creatures, only identifica-tion. Tiny mice, voles, and ground hens scrabbled nearher feet, unintimidated by her presence. Insects hummedand darted before her while she admired their iridescentwings. Birds of many colors flew above the flowering

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grasses, twittering and singing songs as varied as theirfeathers. Annah envied them their wings. What did thebirds think of her? She imagined them singing, A human! . . .a woman! . . . a nothing!

I’ll show you, Annah told them silently. Pulling her veilaway from her shoulders, she swung it expertly above herhead as if to entrap some of the bright little songsters.They fluttered away excitedly, then returned quickly whenthe veil settled harmlessly over Annah’s sleek, dark hair.

I am the creature who is trapped, Annah thought, eyeingher tiny companions through the soft mesh of her veil.She could almost hear their songs of sympathy. Poor hu-man! . . . poor woman! . . . poor nothing!

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Kneeling on the earthen floor of Yerakh’s lattice-enclosed workroom, Annah used a small wooden club tobeat down the gold he had layered between sheets ofmembrane and leather. Her slender brown arm rose andfell in a pleasing rhythm of muffled thuds.

“Annah! Enough!” Startled by Yerakh’s booming voice, Annah flinched.

For her own safety, she never looked directly at Yerakh.She dared not let him see the hatred and condemnationin her eyes, or he would kill her.

“Stupid,” Yerakh hissed, snatching Annah’s narrowclub and threatening her by the action. “Move. Let me seewhat you’ve done. Move!”

With surprising delicacy, Yerakh checked the layers ofleather, membrane, and gold leaf. He slapped the clubhard into Annah’s hand again. “Beat it until I tell you tostop. Understand? Work!”

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I know how long to beat the gold. You don’t need to tell me. Thepalm of her hand throbbed. As Yerakh strode from theworkroom to his refiner’s pit outside, Annah bit back hertears and raised the club.

Rhythmically, she beat her fury into the pile ofleather, gold, and membranes, thinking with the tempo, I-am-beat-ing-Yer-akh! I-am-beat-ing-Yer-akh!

Eventually her rage thinned out with the gold. Andlike the gold, she felt fragile; the slightest breath coulddestroy her. The club felt heavy now, and her handsached, but Yerakh would be angry if she stopped withouthis permission. Where was he? She beat the leather-cladgold more slowly. All at once she heard Yerakh’s voice.He was returning to the workroom, and someone waswith him.

“Stop, Annah!” Yerakh snapped. “You’ll beat it to noth-ing.”

As I’ve longed to beat you, Annah responded silently. She glanced at her brother’s big, bare feet, then at the

feet of his companion, Naham the Iron-breaker. Naham’sfeet were the largest and filthiest in the settlement. Filthand soot were Naham’s means of advertising his trade, buthis size was enough to convince anyone that he deservedhis name. Naham’s footprint was more than twice the sizeof Yerakh’s. And though Yerakh was as tall as any averageman, he barely reached Naham’s biceps. Scared, Annahbowed her head further, but didn’t acknowledge theirpresence.

“In all the years I’ve known you, Yerakh, I’ve neverheard her say anything,” Naham rumbled, his voicemocking and deep. “Does she ever speak?”

“She can’t speak. She has no mind.” Yerakh answered,openly contemptuous.

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Yerakh nudged Annah roughly with his foot, obviouslydisplaying his power over her to impress his companion.She scooted away, hoping to evade further attention, butYerakh snatched the club from her hand and struck heracross the shoulders. She gave a sharp cry, then bit her lipto silence herself. The effort sent a chill of sweat from herscalp to her toes.

“There,” Yerakh told Naham, satisfied. “A sound. Butshe’s less than an animal.”

Before Yerakh could strike her again, Annah scram-bled to her feet and ran behind the leather curtain of thedoor leading to the main room of their lodge. Yerakh’sscornful laughter echoed after her. Let him die! Annahthought, furious. Any living thing in the fields has more kindness.

“Stop!” A woman’s sharp voice rose angrily. “Mindlesscreature. You’ll spill everything.”

Iltani, Yerakh’s wife, was seated before Annah on anintricately woven grass mat. Curvaceous, with a long,gold-talismaned rope of black hair, Iltani flung out onetawny arm. Annah halted abruptly. She had almoststepped into a wooden dish of dried red beans and un-pounded spices.

Annah averted her gaze as Iltani complained, hervoice becoming louder with every word. “No manners atall . . . the way the creature behaves, she should bepenned with the sheep. Where’s her mother to takecharge of her?” Hearing no response from any of the ad-joining rooms, Iltani raised her voice. “Before she tram-ples our food!”

Staring at Iltani’s plump brown hands, now extendedclawlike over the bright red beans, Annah thought, Don’tworry, Iltani, I’m leaving. But if you possessed any kindness, you’dwonder why I’m running. You know Yerakh beats me.

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Annah snatched her grass bag and veil, then turned toleave the lodge. She was almost to the open doorwaywhen a firm voice beckoned. “Annah.”

Lowering her eyes, Annah turned toward her mother,Parah.

As lovely and severe as her gold-clasped, raven hair-braid, Parah spoke tonelessly. “Annah, I don’t need thewife of my son screaming at me like this. I am busy.”

Annah watched her mother’s small, brown, bare feet,thinking in silent defense, Iltani screams at everyone.

Used to Annah’s silence by now, Parah continued. “Ifyou are finished with the gold, you can go to the orchardsand gather some fruit. Take the baskets with you.”

Hurt, Annah glanced at her mother’s face. Parah wasfrowning, a delicate crease etched into her otherwisesmooth and pretty brown forehead. Her large, long-lashed brown eyes—so like Annah’s—reflected only exas-peration.

My own I’ma, Annah thought, looking down in despair.You of all people should understand me. Don’t you see my pain? Whydo you let Yerakh abuse us without speaking in our defense? It’s theway you behaved when he killed my father. Not one word of grief orcomfort. Why? I think you’ve never cared about any of us. Tearsfilled Annah’s eyes—tears she could not allow her motherto glimpse. Turning swiftly, Annah ran from the lodge.

“You forgot the baskets,” Parah called after her.I’ll use my bag! Annah said in silent response. But if I stay

with you, I’ma, you’ll beat me when you hear all the words I want tosay.

In her haste, Annah did not pull the veil over herhead, but wore it in a great loop from her shoulders to herarms. Let others see her face today; she didn’t care. Hertears and soaring rage affected the creatures of the fields

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as she ran. They fled before her, shrilling and squeakingbeneath the ruddy sky.

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Annah ran until her lungs burned like fire. Her mouthfelt dry as dust, and her feet stung almost unbearably.Slowing her pace, she looked down and saw that thethorns of the fields had torn her feet. Even her ankleswere bleeding. She would go to the river and rest, drinksome water, bathe her cuts, and wash away her tears. Ifonly the river could rinse away my sorrow as easily as it will removemy blood.

Her head drooping, her hair falling like a black cur-tain about her face, Annah walked through a thick groveof trees down to the sparkling, swift-flowing river. Sittingdown heavily, she dangled her legs over the embankmentand let the water rush over her feet, cool and soothing.The water directly before her was clear and lovely, butthe middle of the river looked deep, fast, and disturbinglyenticing. How easy it would be to slide into the water andsimply drift out of this life.

Slowly she bent, dipped her aching hands into theclear water, and cupped the cool liquid to her mouth.Wiping her lips, she stared at the river, contemplating.

I’m not even forty years old—not even halfway to my first ken-tum. I’ma has lived two kentums, Yerakh one. Our father lived threekentums before Yerakh killed him. Father, you could have lived at leastfive kentums more if Yerakh had not been so greedy.

You were the only person who ever really loved me; I know thatnow. I wish I had not seen you die. After all these years my painshould be less. Why am I still crying for you?

Her grief flowed out now in streams of tears punctuated

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by wracking sobs. I must be going mad, she told herself atlast. Yerakh will beat me for running from him. But I don’t want to goback. I’m so tired of this life! I’m even tired of crying.

Finally spent, Annah bent to rinse her face. She wipedher eyes with her veil and stared into the river once more.Perhaps she should let the river carry her away. Her painwould be over. No more of Yerakh’s beatings or Iltani’sscorn or Parah’s indifference.

The rushing river seemed to beckon her, and shestared at the gleaming current, mesmerized, swayingfaintly.

A sudden splash made Annah pull back. Before sheunderstood what had happened, another fist-sized rockplummeted into the water before her. This time dropletsof water sprinkled her face.

Astonished, she looked across the small river. Aleather-clad young man stared at her from the oppositebank, his dark eyes quiet, intense. When she met hisgaze, he gently shook his head at her, his long, dark curlsshining in the sunlight. She could almost hear him think-ing, No, don’t let the river take you.

Annah sat back, stunned. Why should this strangercare if she died? No one in her own family would care.He watched her steadily, alert to her slightest move. If I gointo the water, Annah realized, he will die trying to drag me outagain. He won’t leave until he sees me returning to the settlement.

As she thought this, another young man, obviously hisbrother, emerged from the trees lining the opposite side ofthe river. He was carrying netted bundles of long barkfibers. He had a quick, easy gait, and his eyes were alightwith joy and mischief until his brother spoke to him andgestured toward Annah. The joy faded from the secondman’s face, and he stared at Annah. Like his brother, he

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shook his dark-curled head at her, and his lips actuallyframed the word, “No.”

Discomfited, Annah pulled her veil over her face andstood. The brothers looked alarmed until she reached forher woven-grass bag and turned away from the river. Sheentered the shadows of the trees and circled back throughthe lush leafy undergrowth to study the two men.

The first one was still watching for her, but the sec-ond was kneeling and opening the bundles of bark fibers.Apparently, they would stay there for the afternoon,soaking the fibers and working them into ropes. As shewatched, the second brother spoke to the first. Finally—perhaps because he could no longer see Annah or senseher presence—the first man knelt to help separate thelong fibers.

They are at peace with each other, Annah thought, amazed.They love each other. And they feared for my life, though I’m astranger to them. Others would have watched me go into the river, andmy death would be nothing but a story to tell their family or friends atthe evening fire.

To distract herself, Annah left the river and walkedslowly through the fields toward Yerakh’s orchards. If shewas going to live, then she should pick fruit as Parah hadcommanded. Although my I’ma certainly doesn’t expect her mind-less, nothing-creature daughter to understand a simple task like pick-ing fruit, Annah thought, grimacing.

Approaching the orchards beyond the settlement,Annah saw five massive, grayish, rough-skinned fruit-eaters. Taller than any of the lattice-and-grass houses inthe settlement, the older fruit-eaters were grazing amongthe upper branches, their long, slender necks swayinghere and there among the very tops of the fruit trees,choosing the most pungent and overripe fruits available.

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The smaller, younger fruit-eaters, however, contentedthemselves with the lower branches, or fruits that fell tothe ground.

Welcome, Annah thought, eyeing them. The fruit-eaters would clean the orchards. If the fruit were left torot, it would attract wasps, which Annah detested almostas much as she did snakes. Strangely enough, as large asthe fruit-eaters were, she was not afraid of them; like mostanimals of the field, they tolerated humans. As Annah ap-proached, she spoke to them wordlessly. Forgive my intru-sion and ignore me if you like; I am a nothing, here to gather a fewmorsels for my family.

The great beasts continued to nuzzle the ground andpick through the trees, clearly agreeing with her: A human. . . a female . . . a nothing.

Shouldering her veil and bag, Annah cautiouslyclimbed into the tree’s branches. Her fingers still ached,bruised where Yerakh had slapped them with the narrowclub. Wearily, Annah picked her mother’s favorite green-golden sun fruit, which had a warm, inviting fragrance.Suddenly hungry, Annah chose one, removed the pun-gent rind, consumed the glowing sweet-sour segments,and continued her picking.

By now one of the youngest fruit-eaters was exhibitinga mild curiosity toward Annah. Three times she turned toanother branch, only to have the young fruit-eater sud-denly whooshing its humid, heavy-sweet breath directlyinto her face. There was a softness in those golden-browneyes that made her touch the wrinkled gray skin of thecreature’s neck. The feel of its skin was like the thick,toughened soles of her own feet.

One day you’ll be very old, she thought to the young one.You’ll be large and stately, and you will have no desire to commune

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with a human-female-nothing. But I thank you. Three living crea-tures have thought kindly of me today. Perhaps I will continue to live.

As if troubled by the dark turn of her thoughts, theyoung fruit-eater pulled away and rejoined its small herd.Seeming to be of one mind, they departed together, with-out haste. Annah sighed. Gloomily, she dropped the tartgreen-gold sun fruit into her bag, added a few tiny, brightyellow bitter-fruits, and heaped them with a cluster ofpurple-black vine fruits. I’ll pick some of the sweet afals—thethin-skinned fruits—from the trees by the lodge, she decided. That,plus what I’ve already picked, ought to be enough for tonight.

Glancing up at the sky, she saw the first violet hues ofnight, then the first hints of the glittering reds, pale blues,and gleaming whites of the stars. And the moon wasshimmering already, soft and lovely as a sea-stone she hadonce seen about the neck of a food trader. The trader hadgiven Yerakh some pure white salt, brought from the faredges of the land. Yerakh was so pleased with the salt thathe took the man feasting with him that night. Perhaps, An-nah thought hopefully, Yerakh will be gone tonight, feasting withNaham. Then I’ma and the others won’t condemn me for runningaway.

She turned toward the settlement, hurrying now. Shedidn’t want to be caught alone outside after dark. She wasjust approaching the sweetly scented afal trees near Yer-akh’s lodge when she saw a man and a woman embracingbeneath the shadows of the low branches. At first the faceof the man was a mystery to Annah; she was too shockedat the sight of the woman to pay him heed. His belovedwas her mother.

Annah’s first coherent thought was, Yerakh will kill themboth, I’ma and her lover. Trembling, scared that they mightsense her presence, Annah sank into the tall grasses to

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hide. As she crouched in the sweet grass, a new idea, half-hope, half-fear, crossed her mind. If Parah used this newlove to break free of Yerakh’s control, then their livesmight change. But for good or bad?

Annah wanted to run away, but Parah would see herand be furious at being caught. It was best, Annah decided,to wait until her mother had parted from her beloved. Shecould hear them laughing softly in the shadows, murmur-ing intimacies to one another as they kissed. Mortified,Annah covered her ears. As soon as they left, she wouldgo inside. I can’t pick afals tonight. I’ma will know I’ve been in thetrees, and I’ve been beaten enough for one day. I wish they wouldhurry. I’ma, she scolded her mother in her mind, your chil-dren will be waiting for you. Go inside!

Almost as if she could hear her daughter’s thoughts,Parah’s voice changed from inaudible intimacies to clear,tender urgency. “My family will return soon, and Yerakhwill be angry if he finds us. Go now, please!”

“Yerakh will be feasting with Naham all night long,”her mother’s companion replied carelessly, laughingagain.

By his laughter, Annah recognized him. He was Tseb-iy,a young, muscular, handsome—and much shorter—cousin to Naham. But Tseb-iy’s not much older than Yerakh, An-nah thought indignantly. Why is he kissing my I’ma?

She fumed as Tseb-iy kissed Parah again, whisperinghis farewells. You’re fools, both of you, Annah thought,watching them leave. When they were finally gone, An-nah stood, walked around the opposite side of the lodge,and crept inside.

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