Echo Soul Seekers

what to do, where to look.”
    My eyes search Paloma’s, seeking guidance, answers, something. But she merely nods in reply, urging me to finish my tea and enjoy one of her delicious ginger cookies before she pushes away from the table and leads me to my room, where she perches at the edge of my bed and instructs me to open the beautiful, hand-painted trunk she left for me the night she fell ill.
    I unlatch the lock and peer at the contents. My heart racing in anticipation of whatever bit of magick she’s willing to share. It’s been weeks since she taught me to crawl with the lizards and soar with the birds—merging my energy with theirs until I’d claimed their experience for my own. And the truth is, I’ve missed our lessons. Missed our talks and the time we spent together.
    Other than cooking my meals and looking after me (despite my protests that there’s really no need, that thanks to my mom and my nomadic existence, I’ve been looking after myself since I was a kid), the last few weeks she’s spent mostly resting. And despite Leftfoot’s assurances that she’d soon recover, up until now, I had no good reason to believe him.
    Paloma’s willingness to resume my training as a Seeker is the first solid sign that she might really be on the mend. And while there’s no doubt things will never return to the way they once were, there’s no reason we can’t move forward from where we are now.
    “The blanket.” She gestures toward the intricate handwoven blanket folded tightly at the bottom. “Spread it out before you, and place each object upon it.”
    I do as she says. Pairing the black-and-white hand-painted rawhide rattle with the drum bearing a picture of a purple-eyed raven. Then I start a new row reserved for the feathers. Each of them bearing a tag identifying their individual uses—the swan feather for transformative powers, a raven feather for magickal powers, and an eagle feather for sending prayers. And just below that, I place the pendulum with the small chunk of amethyst attached to its end. The trunk now emptied of everything but the crisp, white note from Paloma, her careful script promising to one day show me the magick that lives inside all of these tools—a day I was beginning to fear wouldn’t come.
    I lift the long black feather and wave it before me. Thinking it looks a lot like the one I wear in my pouch—only bigger—much bigger.
    “As your spirit animal, Raven is always prepared to guide you. Have you called on him, nieta ?”
    “All the time.” I shrug, my voice as glum as my face. “But lately it seems like he does way more following than guiding . He just sits on Horse’s neck, like he’s merely in it for the ride, while Dace and I wander around, pretty much aimlessly.”
    “And Horse?” Her spine straightens as her eyes narrow on mine.
    “Same thing. If Dace didn’t push him, he’d spend all his time grazing. It’s like, the more we need them, the lazier they get, until they just barely cooperate. It seems to get worse every day.”
    Paloma’s face pales, as her eyes flash in alarm. The effect lasting only a moment before she’s back to her usual calm, serene self—determined to hide the worries that plague her.
    But now that I’ve seen it, I’ve no intention of letting it pass. If Paloma’s ready to resume my training, then she needs to be honest and stop with the secret keeping. If it’s true what she says, that as a Seeker I’m the only hope left, then sheltering me from the facts will only end up endangering everyone else.
    “Paloma,” I say in a voice filled with urgency. “I need you to be straight with me. I need you to tell me the truth no matter how ugly. When you told me that a Seeker must learn to see in the dark, relying on what she knows in her heart—I assumed you were speaking metaphorically. But lately I’m starting to feel like Dace and I really are just floundering around in the dark, and it would help us a lot if you could shed a little light. Truly, abuela, I’m ready. There’s no need to protect me.”
    She lifts her chin and takes a deep breath. Her delicate fingers smoothing the creases of her crisp cotton dress. “From what you say, it seems Raven has been corrupted. Horse too. And while they’re not yet working against you, they’re not quite working for you either. All of which means we’ll have to rely on other sources for knowledge and guidance until we can evict those Richters from the Lowerworld and return the