Walking the Tree by Kaaron Warren Page A

saw the sun. They were good days, though lonely without their families.
      This time, they were adults. Adults seeking a partner.
      Lillah felt the blood rush between her legs. She had no fear that she would be nervous. She wanted this. The only hard part would be concentrating on the children.
      "Lillah! You'd better hurry and bathe. We'll be leaving soon."
      "Can I borrow your soap? I forgot mine."
      "Of course. Here. Hair soap, too. Your hair is looking greasy. You want to look your best when we set out. Make the boys ache to think of you leaving."
      "I doubt they will ache," Lillah said. "Laugh, perhaps, at us dressed as adults. Teachers."
      "I suppose. Anyway, the others have bathed already. You're the last."
      "I was talking to my father. I'll bathe then I'll visit Magnolia. You know, she seems to have forgotten how much that baby hurt. I don't think I ever want a baby. It hurts too much."
      "I've heard there's places you can go where it doesn't hurt so much. They give you things to take the pain away. My sister sent back word. I think its one of the reasons she picked her husband. And there's another reason. I'll tell you at school."
      Melia winked. Lillah winked back. The things they would talk about on the trip! Melia's sister Ulma had sent messages with every passing school, full of stories of marriage and love making, what a man did, what he said.
      Lillah ran into the water. It was cold; bumps rose on her arms and legs. She dived into a low wave, letting the salt fill her eyes, her pores. She felt the tingle of it cleaning her. She stripped off her wrap and used it to clean under her arms, her neck, behind her ears, between her legs. Out here in the water it was easy to pretend nobody else existed; that there was no beloved sister-in-law; no magnificent nephew; no father preparing for the loneliness of losing a daughter, no crocodile of children, eight, nine and ten years old, all of them, these children waiting for Lillah and the four other teachers to lead them around the Tree. It was a five year journey. Lillah had begun hers as a nine year old and come back educated. It would be interesting to experience it again as an adult, through adult eyes.
      Though truth be told, Lillah at twenty-one did not feel much more experienced or knowledgeable than at fourteen, when wearily, too full of information to speak, they had arrived back in their own town.
      She walked out of the water and wrapped her sulu around. It clung to her wet body so she pulled another over the top. Here, in her own Order, she needed to show prudishness. Once away with the school and so long as the children were safely under the attention of other adults, she could be what she wanted to be. Lillah finished bathing and dressed carefully. She gazed out to sea and fancied she saw a glimmer of an island out there. She turned around once, looked again. Nothing. Her heart calmed and she relaxed. To see the island of the spirits twice meant death to someone in the Order.
     
    She knew that Annan, the Tale-teller, would be at work by the Tree and she wanted to be witness to it.
      He smiled when he saw her. "None of the others take an interest but you, Lillah. You like to see the words being spoken, hear them for yourself."
      "I'm just checking to make sure you get it right. Can't have you telling the Tree the wrong information." She smiled at him. She would miss Annan in an odd way; he was the Tale-teller, yet he rarely spoke beyond Telling the Tree. He knew all, though, saw all, kept it to himself, and the Tree.
      "Many times you have stood with me and helped me remember the days, the moments worth recording."
      Lillah bent her head to rest it on his shoulder. He was a short man, not much taller than she was. He was getting stouter in his old age. He knew the history so well he recited it in his dreams.
      He leaned into the Tree and put his mouth to a small smooth hole in the Trunk. He spoke the names