A Journey Long Overdue

Early, while the Littles were all still tucked in snug, we met to determine our next course.

“We can’t have SafeTree on Sonder’s back forever you know. Roots need soil, magic needs tending.”

Animal Cracker Grandma’s voice was harsher than usual, perhaps a gruffness matching her bird-nest bun and the pre-coffee strain around her eyes. “She’s been showing signs that her roots need deep nourishment.”

“And lest we forget,” Martha Marie added, tying her apron around her, “Cambilito may be revived, but he still needs to rebuild his strength.”

“Well, that settles it then,” I said, “we pack-up camp and travel to The Farm.”

“I can only imagine what it looks like after having been gone this long. Even still, the magic holds even when we cannot.” ACG sounded a bit perkier at the mention of her home.

As Martha Marie and ACG began preparing breakfast, I returned to the embers, the last vestiges of last night’s watch. My mind drifted back to dear Fawin, when he was still haunted by the Sparkly Man… and worse. Instinctively, I grabbed the left side of my neck, the place where Tali would always sink her talons in when I was trying to avoid her warnings. “Ah, old friend, you never let me ignore you for long.” mumbling to myself as I began snuffing out the fire.

“Are you going to tell them? Tell them about Fawin meeting Animal Cracker Grandma?” Anne, always the quiet investigator, had come up beside me. Unphased at my mumbling, she grabbed my hand and met my gaze. “Please?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” I added, “and I won’t forget to speak of the important little guide she sent to lead him there.” I winked, tousled her hair and went back to my work.

“Great!” She beamed. “Breakfast story time!”

“Oh, that’s when we’re going to do it, are we?” I smirked as I asked.

“Um… duh.” She yelled over her shoulder, halfway to the Little’s beds. “Why would we wait?!”

As everyone was getting their delicious breakfast, Anne stood on one of the nearby rocks, wearing a pot over her head and brandishing a wooden spoon. In her other hand was the lid, which she used as a symbol, the spoon banging loudly over the din. “Attention! Attention!”

“Mind your manners child!” Animal Cracker Grandma chided. She looked like she was going to say more until she caught my eye across the way, saw my shrug toward the brave little adventurer and mouth the words, “Let her go…”

“Oh good gracious!” She chortled and then went back to spooning cereal and guiding sleepy children to their seats.

“Ahem!” Anne continued, “Now, listen up everyone. We have a story to finish. Remember our little flying fox friend and his terrible nightmares? Well, be quiet and listen to what happened next!”

When everyone was sufficiently quiet, Anne looked at me and nodded impatiently. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Okay my impatient little adventurer,” I said, “Let’s pick up where Tali told Fawin they needed help to keep his nightmares away.”

… the nightmares had been coming more often and Tali knew she couldn’t keep fighting them off night after night.

“We need help,” her voice spoke within Fawin’s mind.

Fawin looked up. “From who?”

Tali’s gaze lifted toward the distant hills, beyond the edge of the forest, where the land opened into wide fields and old paths.

“Animal Cracker Grandma,” she said. “If anyone knows what to do about dreams like this, she will.”

Fawin swallowed. “Is it far?”

Tali nodded. “Which is why we won’t go alone.”

As if summoned by the words, a figure appeared at the edge of the clearing, a child with short, tousled hair, torn denim overalls, a dented metal lunchbox swinging easily at her side and the dirtiest bare feet you can imagine.

“About time you woke up, I was beginning to think you’d sleep all day!” the strange child said, grinning. “I’m Anne. Animal Cracker Grandma sent me to get you, I know the way.”

Anne knelt beside Fawin, tapping the rusty lunchbox lightly with a splintered fingernail. “This is where I keep my worries,” she added. “So you don’t have to carry everything all at once.”

Several of the Littles gasped at the mention of their brave companion’s name. I paused until they had settled enough and Anne regained her composure at being mentioned in the morning’s story.

Before Fawin could ask more, the SafeTree stirred nearby, its bark glowing faintly. From one of its branches, a small seedpod dropped into Anne’s open palm, warm and softly lit.

“A lantern,” Anne said, closing her fingers around it. “For when the shadows creep in too close.”

Fawin shuddered, thinking of the Sparkly Man from his nightmares.

Tali reached up and removed one of her dark feathers—obsidian-edged, sharp and shining. She pressed it into Anne’s other hand.

“And a compass,” she said smiling. “In case we forget why we’re going.”

Fawin hugged Harlow closer.

He was still scared.
The shame hadn’t vanished.
The dreams hadn’t stopped.

But for the first time, he wasn’t facing them alone.

Now there was only one thing left to take with him on the journey to this mysterious Animal Cracker Grandma. While Tali and Anne were gathering provisions, Fawin snuck away back into the darkest part of his hidey-hole. There, stuffed up in the rafters, which were actually the floor joists of the old shed above their little sanctuary beneath the SafeTree, he pulled up something wrapped in an old baby blanket. The pieces clunked together as he pulled them out onto the straw he’d been sleeping on. As he untied the cord, the light caught a gleam of metal between the layers of cloth.

I paused, looking at all the tiny faces intently peering back at me. Some of them had stopped mid-mouthful which hung open, spoons in midair. A scolding glance from Animal Cracker Grandma let me know in no uncertain terms, I was creating too much of a distraction.

“Alrighty then,” I announced, “It’s time to finish up breakfast and get ready for the day.”

“Awww!” came several whines in harmony.

“Now that’s enough my dears. I’m sure there will be time for more once we’ve gotten you all fed and dressed. Now go on, finish up.”

And with that, we began pulling up stakes to make our way to the very Farm I was telling them about.

I’ve learned to pay attention to those converging moments.

When the path you’re thinking of knows before you do.

Story aligns with life in ways that sometimes only you seem to notice.

Some call it pattern recognition,

Others intuition.

Still others magic.

Whatever the case, however you feel it,

My hope is that you know when it’s time to come home,

Even if the home you seek is within.

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