It was a short trip from Linta's tree to her mother's - only a short upward climb and two tightropes away - and she made it there in good time, traversing the ropes with ease. She didn't bother announcing her arrival before she pushed through the barrier of woven willow curtain that closed off her mother's hollow; she could already smell their usual tea brewing inside. She entered just as her mother was settling for their daily meeting. 

"You were late this morning," her mother joked when she entered, gingerly arranging her legs beneath her, "I saw you scrambling to get in your offering in time."

"Hush you," Linta chastised in return, unceremoniously plopping herself down opposite her mother, "I bet my offering was better than yours anyway."

Her mother laughed quietly, pulling a fur blanket over her crossed legs while Linta busied herself with serving the tea. 

It was very warm in her mother's hollow, with a fire steadily burning in the brazier in the wall and her tightly woven curtain doing a good job of keeping the draft out. It was a little too warm for Linta, who pulled at the collar of her tunic to let some air in, but her mother sat right in front of the fire on the little nest of mats and furs that made up her bed. Her mother wasn't too old, but she had painful joints that ached in the cold, and even though the autumn chill had only just started, it was already starting to bother her. 

Linta retrieved a squat wooden tray from a recessed shelf in the wall, a thick rectangular slab with indents in the sides that acted as handles and palm-sized divots in the surface. From the same shelf she retrieved a bowl of carefully hollowed out eggshells, the round bottoms of which fit snugly into the tray. From the bowl she selected two shells, one light blue with brown speckling and the other dark green with a spray of tiny black dots, and set them out on the tray to be filled. 

The tea, which had been brewed in a much larger and thicker eggshell kettle (arguably the most valuable possession in anyone's hollow) was a clear light green, like tinted water. It was, however, much more potent than it looked, and the smell, sharp and herbal, filled the hollow as she poured. 

When she was done, she placed the kettle back on its little wooden stand (an indented block much like the tray, but larger) and handed her mother the brown shell, keeping the blue one for herself. Her mother sipped hers immediately while Linta set about sweetening her own with honey. 

"Did Orik drop by yet today?" Linta asked, not looking up from the stream of honey she was carefully measuring. 

"Oh yes," her mother replied, "Brought another packet of medicine too."

"Oh really, how is it working?" Linta asked.

"Like a blessing," her mother sighed, rubbing one of her knees, "This one hasn't complained at all today." 

Linta smiled. Her cousin Orik, son to her late father's sister, had been bringing her mother a new medicine recently. Something his own mother, an established [i]ersha[/i], had been working on to try and alleviate joint pain. It was made from rare components, so her mother was lucky to be able to test it. 

Linta stayed for a little while, finishing her tea and chatting as they did every day. Of course, it was only a matter of time before her mother brought up the only topic anyone who knew her had in mind. 

"So, have you had any luck in your search?"

Linta stifled a groan, opting instead for a heavy exhale. Impulsively she gathered the end of her tail in her lap, fiddling with the feathers and beads that decorated it. 

"No luck yet," she admitted. 

Her mother's eyes softened. "Oh come now, it's not the end of the world," she cooed, "You'll find your [i]ari[/i] in due time." 

"I just don't understand," Linta sighed, "I thought I've done everything right, but the spirits don't seem to agree."

"Hush," her mother scolded gently, "Don't think like that. You'll find one when your time comes."

Linta nodded down at her tail, and her mother pulled her into a hug. She knew this was a touchy subject for her. She was more than old enough now, having left home and carved her own hollow (a good one, she thought) and having, she thought, taken on her adult responsibilities. She did what was asked of her by her elders, she contributed her share to the food stocks and if she was needed elsewhere, she would go. She hadn't found a specialty yet, fine, but lots of people determined that after finding their [i]ari[/i]. She didn't know why the [i]treyu[/i] didn't think she was ready for adulthood yet. What more could she do?

"You know what?" Linta's mother finally mentioned, "Orik told me Mara might be looking for some help with collecting materials. Maybe you should help her!" 

Linta didn't hesitate. "Of course," she offered, "I'm always willing to help Aunt Mara."

"Good," her mother laughed, "Because you know how Orik can be. He means well, but I can't imagine he'll be a huge help when he gets over to the west tree..."

They both laughed. It was true, Orik was sweet but had a habit of getting distracted, especially when a certain black-haired Canopy girl came into the mix. 

"Besides," Linta's mother added coyly, "You'll have to look pretty deep into the foliage and around the village borders. You never know what you'll find..."

[center]~ / / / ~[/center]

It was nearing noon when Linta finally left her mother's hollow, making her way across the criss-cross of tightropes to the south tree in search of her aunt. When she got there, Mara was glad for her offer of help and handed her a few pouches and a list of what she was to gather and sent her on her way. 

Her gathering mission took Linta into the canopy on the edges of the village, where the foliage was thicker owing to the reduced traffic. All manner of plant life lived up here, from little vines taking advantage of the sunlight to the leaves of the mighty trees themselves. Linta was a skilled climber and navigated the thin branches with ease, bouncing occasionally from one to the other, relishing each instant of suspension over the endless drop below. She did a pretty good job of finding the items her aunt requested of her - bark from this vine, nectar from that flower, buds from this plant, etc. - but kept a sharp eye out all the while for the streak of brilliant white and blue that would signify her transition to adulthood. It never did come, but when her pouches were full and she was turning back home, she noticed something comparatively interesting. 

It was a nest, a very large one, settled into the tallest branches of that particular tree (though it was almost impossible to tell which branches belonged to what trees), with three shining black eggs nestled neatly in it, each about the size of Linta's head. It was a [i]Qian[/i] nest, the enormous predatory birds that occasionally worked up the gall to try and carry off children before they were driven away by the Canopy garrison. Needless to say, the presence of a nest here, so close to the village, was a serious problem. 

However, those eggs were a valuable commodity in the village. Their shells were especially thick, and they were what everyone's kettles and cooking pots were made of. 

Unfortunately, as Linta determined when she was getting ready to raid the nest, she had no bags on her large enough to hold the eggs, and running through the branches with your arms full was a death wish. Still, she didn't want to waste this opportunity. 

If she couldn't take the eggs home, she could at least hang on to the memory. Pulling her journal out of a pocket on her leg, she settled herself somewhat comfortably between two branches, pulled out a charred wooden stick and started sketching. 

Within about ten minutes she had a good sketch going of most of the nest and was starting on the eggs when a shadow passed over her. She froze. Her heartbeat filled her ears. 

The shadow passed over her again, and a huge mass of brown feathers filled her view. She felt the buffeting of air on her face as the bird flapped around the nest. Panicking, Linta threw her journal at the beast and scrambled down under the canopy where the qian couldn't reach her, rushing through the branches and back to the village, straight to the garrison to report the bird. She'd gone further out of the village than she had thought, but she made it back in time for the garrison to dispatch. The screeching she heard in the few minutes that followed told her the garrison had taken care of the threat.