Brightly Woven

land.
    “Sydelle, did you start the rug for Mrs. Anders?”
    I nodded, my eyes drifting back to the loom leaning against the wall. All Mrs. Anders wanted was a yellow rug to help hide the dust tracked into her rickety little home. I would be done in a day, maybe two.
    “All right, but take the basket and bring back some dry root. I need to grind a new batch for your father after you ruined the last of it with your clumsy hands.”
    Henry said, “We’ll find enough to last for the next few months, I promise.”
    And then, amazingly, she let us go.

    Three hours later, I was crouched down behind the rocks until my knees were shaking with pain. Just as I was about tolaunch myself forward, Henry appeared beside me, grinning like a kid. I let out a small, surprised squeak. He held a finger to his lips.
    I thought, not for the first time that day, that something was a bit off. We hadn’t had this heavy a cloud cover in years, and Henry’s tan skin and brown hair were looking especially dulled in the unusual dimmed light. He faded easily back into the mountains, while my pale skin, burned pink by the sun, made my efforts to hide all the more difficult.
    He crawled past me, sticking his head out to gauge whether his brothers were still around.
    “I think I lost them a ways back,” he said. “Ready?”
    “Why do I have to go first?” I complained. “You always make me go first—ever since we were ten.”
    “And six years later,” he whispered back, “I still like you enough to give you the glory of the capture, Sydelle Mirabil. Don’t forget we have our honor to uphold.”
    “You mean your honor,” I said. “Against your six-year-old brothers. If one of those scamps hits me with a rock, you’re taking my chores for a week.”
    Henry glanced out one more time and nodded. I sprang forward, heading for the scrap of fabric tied to the trunk of the hollow tree. Henry was right behind me, his long legs carrying him quickly across the small path. Above us, we heard the cries of the twins and the thudding of the rocks they launched in our direction. Demons.
    Something did hit me. Something wet, which might havebeen sweat had it not been so cool. It rolled down the back of my neck, nearly jolting me from my skin. At first, I didn’t recognize it for what it was. It had been years, truly years .
    I whirled around to face Henry, to see if he had felt it, too. He was staring up into the sky, his eyes wide. The twins launched one last rock from the cliffs overhead. It fell inches from my feet, but I didn’t move. There was a moment of absolute silence before the thunder cracked and the sky opened.
    We were drenched in a moment. The rain fell from the sky in heavy, fat drops. I let out a choked sound, half delight, half surprise. Henry and I stared at each other, holding our breaths for fear it would be over just as quickly as it had begun. We had been six, maybe seven at the last rain, but the twins hadn’t been born yet. They looked up at the sky, and it was clear by the looks on their faces that they were mystified.
    “Come on!” Henry said, turning to run. “Allan! John! Back to the village.”
    “My basket!” I said.
    “Get it later,” Henry insisted.
    “I’ll meet you down there,” I said. “Just go—you have to watch your brothers.”
    The twins charged down the steep trail and passed right by us. We could hear shouts from the valley below, the village waking from its long, dry slumber.
    Henry gave me a long look. Was he honestly worried I would get lost? I watched the rain smear the dust on hischeeks into long, snaking lines and smiled. That was just the kind of friend he was, ready to fall over himself with concern.
    “Go!” I said, giving him a playful push. We turned away from each other at the same moment, he back toward the village, barely visible through the sheet of rain. I was heading up, to the highest point of the canyon.
    It had been raining for less than a minute, and already the dust had melted into patches of sticky mud. The raindrops were fat and unrelenting—a feast after a ten-year famine.
    I stumbled over the loose rocks, but I never stopped, not even for a moment. I wanted to be in the village, to hear the songs and prayers of thanks. To see the look on my mother’s face, and the weight lifted from my father’s shoulders. Each raindrop was sending up a little splatter of dust, and I had never seen the dirt so dark as it was in that moment. The cracked, withered soil seemed