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Murky scrunched her brow and opened her arms. “This, big.”
Daniil smiled, leaned in with a hand on his knee. “Absolutely! In fact some scientists I’ve met believe they could’ve been even bigger.”
From his seat at the table, Artemy watched with his fist propped against his temple, smiling wider than he had in a long time. His tea was getting cold.
“Like, a dog,” Murky stated with a curt nod, as though she were the one convincing Daniil. “A beetle, that’s really, a dog. With sticks.”
“Beetles the size of a bull!” Daniil held his hands up to demonstrate. “This beetle could carry a whole tree! Maybe even uproot it.”
“Up... root...” She looked down with her brow tight again. “The roots, are up?”
“Imagine pulling an entire tree out of the ground, as if it were a blade of swevery,” Daniil crouched. “Imagine if it could pull you out of the ground, little one.”
She shook her head, crossed her arms. “Ain’t, scared, of that.”
“And of course not! Why would you be? This beetle would be your dog, right? And as loyal as any companion to boot.”
Artemy had to turn his face into his hand to muffle his snorting. He knew damn well that Daniil didn’t believe that. The man had kept bugs as pets all his life and all they’d shown Daniil was threat postures. Presuming his stories were to be believed.
“Now then,” Daniil slapped his knee and stood up. “I love these moments we have, Miss Murky, but I’m afraid our time grows short. Rubin needs me back at the clinic.”
“How, does time, grow… smaller?” She cocked her head too far to the side.
“Its a phrase,” Sticky at last spoke up from his numerous scattered papers and books full and notes. “The clock’s where he needs it to be.”
“Oh,” Murky nodded. That made sense.
“Yeees,” Daniil threw on his coat. “Yes, what he said. Now then, ah, Artemy?”
“Hm? Right.” Artemy swallowed the last of his tea and stood up. “Murky, Sticky, you two will be alone for the rest of the day. I know you can handle yourselves but, don’t give me reason to worry?”
Sticky nodded and turned a page.
“I won’t, do anything, bad, or wrong.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I want, to find, the bugs.”
Artemy hesitated before patting her head. “Alright then. But don’t bring any home.”
As he and Daniil made for the front door though, Murky ran up and grabbed Daniil’s coat.
“Danil.”
Daniil glanced down at her. “Hmm?”
Unwavering, she looked at him and pointed to his hand.
Daniil looked at it, at Artemy, then turned to her and offered it to her.
She took it, turned his palm up and open. Then, she reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a small pinecone. Looking him in the eye, she placed it in his palm, and closed his hand around it.
“If, it closes,” she said, pointing, “you gotta, come, home.”
Daniil glanced between her, his hand, and Artemy. Then he decided to nod. “I’ll… do that then.”
“Promise.”
“I promise,” he smiled and pocketed the pinecone, patting her head.
Then, quietly to Artemy as they slipped out the door, “Is it supposed to rain today?”
The door closed, and it was just Murky. She huffed and trotted back through the house.
She found Sticky at his desk and got up on her toes to give him a hug. “Gonna, go out.”
“Mmhm,” he nodded. “Don’t trade any sewing needles from the Dogheads. They stole them from Notkin again.”
Murky nodded. “The needles, will find, their nose. And poke, another, hole.”
Sticky nodded.
She ran to the back door, then stopped. It was a pinecone day, she remembered. She had to be cautious. Instead, she ran upstairs and into the main foyer, towards the window.
A little heave got it open, and a little hoist got her up and out of it, rolling herself onto the roof that covered the windows downstairs. She didn’t understand the point of a window being downstairs. Not when there were always doors down there.
Over the roof, she walked to the nearby tree. A gangly, gnarled thing that bent towards the house, nearly leafless. She grabbed it, the fattest part she could reach, and stepped off the roof.
The tree bent, unnaturally smooth, and deposited her on the ground. Murky let the tree go, and it straightened itself with a creaking groan.
She patted its trunk. Smiled. Time to go see the bugs.
Away from the house, it was like walking through a maze she had memorized long ago. Still a bit scary, still a bit strange, but also familiar. She trusted herself to find the right veins.
“Just, like, papa.”
Sidewalks with cracks and crevices. Pebbles and dirt. Some playgrounds with friends.
She approached a boy with a jacket and a knitted hat. “Yaba.”
He looked up from grinding his heel into the ground and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hm? Oh. Hey Murk.”
She waved.
“You shouldn’t be here right now, y’know.” He glanced aside. “Dogheads might see you and think you’re still with the Soul-and-a-Halves.”
She shook her head. “M’not, afraid, of dogs.”
“Yeah, well…” He hunched his shoulders, still looking away from her. “Should be.”
Murky walked away, to one of the trees. Looked around the ground. There. She picked up a pinecone and brought it to Yaba.
He stared at it. “What for.”
“Today, is, a pinecone, day.”
He furrowed his brow, but took it. “What’s it for though?”
“Look,” she stepped up closer and poked it. “The spines, are hiding, the people, inside. When pinecones, hide, a secret, then, something’s gonna… come. You gotta, hide, when pinecones, hide.”
Yaba nodded, shook the pinecone with decided conviction and pocketed it. “Thanks, Murk. Means a lot.”
She nodded, and got on her tiptoes to pat his head. He knelt a bit to help her reach.
“Good, dog.”
Yaba pressed his lips tight and hunched his shoulders, but he didn’t say anything.
Murky trotted through the playground, over the gentle grass and right up to the Ferrymen odonghe, who watched her approach with big eyes.
“Ah ah, Naayze-yadaral,” it murmured, and patted her head. “Naayze-yargachin. You wish to travel.”
She nodded. “I need, to find, the bugs.”
“Khaya dee, Naayze-yadaral, khaya dee.” It hummed, and the corners of its eyes wrinkled. “The gorkhon does not groan beneath your foot. She needs no payment.”
Murky nodded, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a pinecone. The odonghe accepted this with gentle hands, held the pinecone and slipped it into the many folds of its clothes.
It held a flat hand out to her, and she accepted, stepped into the boat with only a little unsteadiness. She took a seat closest to the odonghe, and it took up its oar.
The gorkhon swayed as they drifted, and she sang. Murky smiled and listened to her, nodded from side to side. The odonghe smiled too, and sang along. A deep, resonating voice to her harmonious trill. A tale of giving, of taking. As the mother guides her children, the children guide her too. They listen, they listen.
“To us, they come, to you.”
To the end of the gorkhon, by the Factory. The odonghe waiting for them offered Murky a lumpy hand out of the boat, which she accepted.
“Mendee, naayze,” it said. “The Mother superior is with Bos Noukher.”
Murky nodded. “Thank, you. I’m out, of, pinecones. You gotta… share.”
The boatmen odonghe produced the pinecone Murky had given it and showed it to the standing odonghe. They began speaking over it like it was some lovely little curiosity.
She walked off, away from the Broken Heart where men were drinking water, with breath that didn’t smell like water. Across the tracks, around the warehouses, and out by papa’s workshop. Noukher grazed the steppe grass, and Taya sat near him, plucked blades of twyre to hold out for him to eat.
Murky walked through the grass to them. Taya looked up and broke into a massive grin, clamoring to her feet.
“Vein sister!!” She shouted and trotted to Murky with open arms.
Murky didn’t get to say ‘don’t do it’ because it already happened and they were in the dirt and grass, Taya giggling with all her body. Murky was smiling too, and hugging her back. It was fun to roll in the grass, even if it got leaves in her hair.
“Our Noukher told me you were coming, but I couldn’t see you.” Taya untangled herself and got to her feet, pulling Murky up with her. “But now you are here and we can find the bugs now.”
Murky shook the dirt out of her hair. Taya giggled and shoved her hands in Murky’s hair.
“I’m out, of… pinecones.” Murky muttered, and ducked aside.
Taya stuck a hand on her hip. “You’re not supposed to give them away. You need them.”
“I… know.”
Taya smiled at her and hugged her again. “I have one, because I knew you would give them away. You are nice to everyone, vein sister!”
Murky smiled and hugged her back.
“Come on, let us speak to them!” Taya took Murky’s hand and pulled her towards Noukher. “They are waiting.”
Murky hopped along with Taya, and they approached Noukher. The bull huffed and lowered itself, resting in the gentle grass. Taya sat by his head, against him, and Murky sat across from her. Taya produced her pinecone, and pressed it into the grass between them.
“I’m glad you came, sister,” Taya said. “I’m so happy we can speak together.”
Murky nodded and covered her eyes. “I need, to know, the things… and you, can see… the wings?”
Taya nodded, and put her hands over her eyes as well. “They do not flap, but they could. It’s important. They choose where to be, and they choose home.”
Daylight muted, and behind their hands covering their eyes, the light dimmed and darkened. The sun went to rest. Noukher did not stir, but the air did. Winds picked up… then stilled.
The air held each blade of steppe grass in place, like resin, and the earth sighed. Clouds painted different darks over the sky, like storms and seas.
The pinecone pulled closed.
A noise beneath them, like grinding, sifting, shifting, sliding… the two opened their eyes.
A snake in the grass that wasn’t a snake, but just as shiny and shimmering. Murky looked at it and waved. It wriggled towards her, not slithering but flexing.
A worm.
Little children of murk and mirth.
It flexed its front to a swollen, purple point up towards her. Murky reached out, unafraid, and touched it. It did not shy from her.
Your fingers find me but your mind seeks more. The mind of a Beast Above.
Taya spoke to it. “We want to say hello to the Beasts Below. We have not given them our love today.”
The snake-worm bent its pointed head-end towards Taya and writhed towards her. Its body, though slimed, left no residue upon her outstretched hand. It did not preen for her touch, but it did not fear it.
The Denizens of Boddho… they have missed you, little ones.
Around them the steppe rumbled, gentle as a lullaby, and her stone soil parted. Crumbled. Opened by force and choice. An unbirth, a surface.
Long, browned, fat carapace legs pulled up from the soil, covered in little spikes for gripping. Antennae, raised high and in tune with the world. A triangular head, with eyes like void.
From the earth, a cicada emerged. A nymph, hunched and ugly, using its front praying hands to climb the horizon towards Murky and Taya.
It was even bigger than the bull.
Murky stood up, on unsteady feet. She looked up at it, awestruck and starstruck. Taya scrambled to her feet as well.
It looked down upon them, and in its vast eyes, the children saw themselves.
Little ones, oh little ones, you have come to me…
Murky grinned wider than she had in a long time, and approached the nymph. She placed a hand upon his mantis arm, rubbed his carapace radiant with the warmth of the earth.
“You’re so, big, now.”
Taya nodded. “You’re so shiny! Look at you!”
The cicada chirped and chimed, shook its little hind legs.
It is time now, little ones, for the circle to close. You have brought me joy, and milk, and home…
Murky wrapped her little arms around its leg. “You’re… very… brave…”
Taya ran up next to Murky and patted his leg. “Never forget your khatanghe. We will always be here with you.”
The nymph chirped gently, leaned down and brushed its mandibles against her cheek. Then, he bent his body forward, pushed his back towards the sky, and his carapace, old and stained, opened.
Across the steppe, across the town, as storm clouds rolled in over the gorkhon, the earth stirred and churned as the cicadas emerged.
The odonghe saw their pinecone close and made sure to enter the boat, watched as their brood emerged and flocked over Mother Boddho’s skin.
Yaba felt his pinecone close and ducked inside before the rain fell, but stayed by the window to watch the bugs swarm over the trees and buildings.
They rooted themselves before the rain could fall, and from their bodies a new self emerged, colorful and winged and voices full. Ready to explore and reminisce and rejoin with one another in the sky.
Daniil Dankovsky heard thunder outside, paused in the middle of writing his patient files, then reached for his pocket. He pulled out the pinecone and sure enough, it had closed. Daniil had to smile.
“Well look at that,” he smirked, gripping it in his whole hand. “Murky was right after all.”