It was not long before Wai saw the heavy, hanging homes of her destination blotting out the glow of branches behind them. In the distance, hanging still and outlined with the faintest sheen of reflected light, they seemed like droplets of water caught at the end of a thread. Suspended mid-motion. A tranquil, familiar sight drawing her in.

She let it. Barely slowing her pace until she could make out the irregular undulations on the woven surface of the closest; bounding forward along the thicker trunks and bouncing off the smaller, leaping casually over the abyss and swinging across larger gaps as she trusted her earlier appraisal of the path here. Only when she saw a splash of brightness on one well wedged deadfall did she pause, dropping into a sudden crouch and slipping sideways into the light beneath the log, its rotten wood an easy source of nutrients for the mushrooms sprouting along its length and illuminating a tiny, disintegrating world. Half hidden by the glow on her skin and half by the slant of the log, Wai took her time unwinding the slender cord at her hip as she caught her breath. 

Working by touch alone to pull the line free from her belt, she used her eyes for other things, searching out signs of activity, and watching a single spot of light climbing idly upwards as though through thin air. She knew they were on an anchor line, but it was invisible this far away, so the villager seemed to float, making funny motions mid-air that she could only compare to a lizard caught in a waterbowl. Except, of course, that the lizard would have been flailing madly or floating serenely and had much shorter legs. Still… She swallowed her amusement before it could escape as noise and finally felt the knot give way so she could bring the silk thread to the front, checking the knots attaching it to the carved bit of bone, just in case. The string’s length was a good few feet, but she kept it mostly coiled, even after ascertaining that everything was in order, simply dropping the bone and flicking her wrist so that it turned a rapid circle around her hand. Careful not to hit the wood around her, she spun it faster as its edges caught the air, making it thrum out a high note. 

It reverberated in her bones and swept through the darkness all around. The climber paused in the distance when the sound reached them, though not for long, apparently uninterested in possible news. 

Sooner than she’d expected, another answered her, twin-toned and warbling slightly. It was the official proof that she’d been heard and was welcome, also, that she wasn’t about to walk into disaster, though the calm climber she was looking at made that last mostly redundant. So, routine custom satisfied, she didn’t hesitate any longer, and with an accomplished twitch of her tail stood and set off again. Paying more attention to how she tucked the huewri back on her belt than where she set her feet, Wai was slower in her approach. There was no reason to rush, though she [i]was[/i] wondering why the welcome had come so quickly. She was waiting to hear the reason, thinking that someone had to have had that huewri in hand before she’d called out, so she was not surprised when its voice came again, warbling dual notes lower this time, before she was even ten steps closer. 

Head tilting, she went still to listen: one long, low groan followed by a breath of staccato whirring. That sound always made her think of hiccups…

It was a general summons. Not for her though, as she wasn’t a part of this village, and she weighed the idea of sleeping now against satisfying her curiousity before giving in. Her plan to slip in, find a bed, find a meal, and slip out wasn’t exactly inflexible. She had time to deviate since she wasn’t carrying any package or news to be delivered, and it was a Runner’s right to sit in on any, well, almost any, meeting they might like to, provided they knew how to keep their opinions to themselves. Wai had never had to worry about that, she was better at listening than talking anyway. So, as soon as her huewri was securely fastened again, up she went, strong fingers and toes catching at the slightest hold with practiced ease. She was no orn though, the effort was more of a graceless scramble than anything, though it did the trick.

The high platform, suspended on long poles stuck into the trees on every side, was her destination. It was a regular gathering point, and every village she’d ever visited had one, with a row or two of specialized huewru carefully coiled and hung from the rafters, neat and organized and ready for use beneath an arched roof of resh petals that kept off some of the damp. Now, seeing the small group of people who’d arrived before her, she stepped carefully across the supporting poles to duck under the overhang and tuck herself into an unoccupied corner while they awaited the stragglers.

Looking around, there were a few she recognized, though even fewer that she could name, and one pride straightened fellow next to the elder just finishing hanging up the huewri he’d used to call them here. She could see the nerves in his twitching tail, the tip unfortunately bright enough to attract attention. Young, she thought, though his shoulders were well filled out and he was likely taller than her. Chances were good that he had been alive longer than she had, though by how much, neither would be able to count. There was no sign of trouble or concern amongst the others, in fact, she caught a few surreptitious glances of amusement between the older generation and encouraging gestures from the younger. But that tail… 

She felt a sympathetic buoyancy spreading in her stomach as she guessed at the reason for this gathering, remembering her own steps from apprentice to peer. The nervous delight of all her effort being acknowledged even as she worried that it wasn’t enough, that she’d never know enough. But, of course, she’d had a good mentor, and her fears had been unfounded. By the satisfied curl of the elder’s tail, as well as the happy squinting of rheumy eyes, Wai was certain he would be no different. 

It started well. The elder, Peya, she thought his name was, raising his arms high to catch attention. It worked better than shouting, silhouetted as he was against the dark overhang of resh petals, and Wai was sure she wasn’t the only one to catch her breath in anticipation. The quiet came almost immediately, and into that expectant pause, Peya’s raspy voice was more than audible, asking them to see the man before them who had once been a child among them. It was a set speech, rote, routine, formal, though different exact words than she thought her own mentor had used. But it was the message that mattered most. She was happy to be a witness to his growth. Glad for his accomplishments. 

She was impressed by the fine hammock he’d woven as proof of his skill and, apparently, as a gift of gratitude for the patience Peya had shown him. Ha, so, he was older! Though she supposed the missing forearm might have something to do with the required patience. It could not be easy having to find new methods to cope with a missing hand. He’d be a good weaver, regardless, it seemed, and she raised her voice in welcome along with the others, inviting him to step into the circle they made on the platform so they could give him their first long look adult to adult. 

However, happy for this Iln though she was, he remained a stranger, and Wai would have been hard-pressed to deny that she was more pleased with the good timing that saw her arriving before a celebratory feast than with the chance to watch him receive his whiskers. And she sat impatiently through the rest of the ceremony as another woman carefully cut into Iln’s cheeks the same diagonal lines most of them wore. She couldn’t stop thinking about the meal sure to come.