Sky Song: Overture by Meg Merriet

possibly ease their withdrawal. Molly’s complaints of still being thirsty went unnoticed, or at least, unheeded. Being this hot was never a problem a thousand meters from earth. I knotted my damp hair into a bun. The extensions fell out in wisps as some of the braids came loose. I wanted to rip them all out, but they were sewn in tight and some of the wax had melted against my scalp.
    I joined the men for breakfast. We ate half a roll each with a spoonful of jam. The meal was enough to ease the churning pain in my gut, but my hunger remained bottomless. We headed north. I found a sturdy walking stick nestled in the brush and used it to keep myself going at an even pace. I needed to stay near the front of our party with people I trusted.
    We wound through the forest, climbing over felled trees and cutting away plant debris. The heat rose to abominable temperatures. Even in the tree cover, our faces melted and drenched our clothing. I noticed Molly stumble against a tree.
    “I can’t see,” she cried, gasping.
    “She’s fainting!” I yelled, running towards her as her legs gave out. I caught her before she collapsed. Dirk came dashing over, and lifted Molly onto his back. She mumbled an apology, which her brother hushed.
    “Thank you, Clikk,” he said.
    The remainder of our slog through the woods took about an hour, but eventually we reached a meadow, vast and radiant with tall yellow-tipped grass. Molly hopped off Dirk’s back and waved to our rescuers.
    Maive waited in front of a large hay wagon pulled by two white horses. The cart had ample space, but not enough for all in our company. A pair of well-to-do country folk accompanied her, a round old man and a young blue-eyed woman. Both wore gray linen clothing; the structured silhouettes of their tailored garbs gave them away as being upper class. While the wealthy wore the fashions that emphasized the male and female silhouettes, most people still wore styles of an earlier century design, simple ensembles such as tunic and skirt or trousers tied together with a bodice or vest.
    Dirk went running. “Dorian!”
    “Derek, my boy!” The rotund aristocrat waved. Dirk opened his arms and gathered Dorian Belle into an embrace. The affection made the man blush, but he took it with a smile, patted Dirk on the shoulder and slipped something into his hand, whispering, “I held onto it for you. Just in case this day ever came.”
    I could not see what it was, but whatever it was, it made my captain’s eyes lose their intensity and fire. He slumped his shoulders and hugged the man once more, this time holding him for much longer. Molly and the young noblewoman bobbed politely to each other, displaying more conventional social graces.
    “Who is this angel?” Dirk asked.
    Dorian moved apart from Dirk so he could introduce the lady. “My daughter Lily. You remember her, don’t you?”
    “Lily! You were just a child the last time I saw you. How are you, my dear?” Dirk kissed her hand.
    “Better now that you’re back. We’ve missed you, Derek.”
    After the pleasantries, Dorian and his daughter Lily proceeded to load us into their wagon. Dirk kissed Maive farewell and remained with the men who would be going on foot.
    I rode with Molly and Maive. While taking in the vista of lavender country, we shared some conversation along the way to our host’s residence.
    “Beautiful,” sighed Maive, tilting her head and inhaling the perfume on the breeze. “Absolutely breathtaking crop fields.”
    “Beautiful, yes. And inedible,” I said. “I remember walking through such fields, surrounded by so many pretty flowers, and starving to death.”
    “How awful,” said Maive. “Queen Anna von Luftberg washed only with lavender soap and kept fresh bundles in all her garment chests. Ladies of refinement followed her example and Shale has been lavender country ever since.” She touched my shoulder. “So tell me, how is it a peasant girl from Shale knew the only song that