The Sister's Submit

Thorne did not understand what “UN” meant. She understood “meeting.” Meeting meant adults talking too long while sitting. It meant she had to be there because she was Thorne Thorne, daughter of Wellie and Bronte. Heir of Werewolf and God tree, and because her sister wanted to come.

By 6:00 AM, Aspen had already learnt how to make beds. She made them grow. Thorne’s bed was now grass, with flowers and bees.

“Pretty,” Thorne said.

“Soft,” Aspen said proudly. Six year old, leaf wings buzzing.

Downstairs, the pack house smelled like pack. Marcus was making coffee, Valeria was cleaning a gun she would not use because Aspen flinched at iron, Askelad was icing the windows because she was nervous, Eli was setting up a laptop, Bronte was trying to put shoes on two six year olds.

“I don’t wear shoes,” Thorne said.

“I don’t know shoes,” Aspen said.

“You wear shoes because humans wear shoes and humans have a meeting, and humans have rules about feet,” Bronte said using his Werewolf Prince voice, mixed with tired Dad voice.

His skin still had bark lines from when he was the tree; when he protected Wellie and Thorne and his brother killed him while he was roots. No one talked about that. But his hands still creaked like branches when he was angry.

Wellie watched from the doorway, with Silver hair now. She was 55 in a 34 year old’s face. Because she held ending.

“He’s right,” Wellie said. “About shoes.”

“No,” Thorne said.

“Yes,” Wellie said.

Thorne looked at Aspen, and Aspen looked at Thorne. Both looked at Bronte.

“No,” they said together.

Bronte sighed. The sigh of a prince who had died, come back, and now lost to two six year olds about shoes.

“Fine. No shoes.”

---

7:00 AM; The UN Call

General Kaine set up the laptop. On screen: 12 boxes. Flags. Tired faces. Secretary-General in the middle.

“Wild Capital,” the Secretary-General said. “We are here to discuss Entity Aspen. The After.”

Thorne climbed onto Bronte’s lap, while Aspen climbed onto Wellie’s lap. Barky, lay between them, breathing slowly and old.

“Hi,” Thorne said to the screen. There was silence.

A USA box whispered: “That’s her? That’s the Root?”

“She’s barefoot,” another box whispered.

“I told you,” Bronte muttered.

“Entities,” the Secretary-General started again. “You have caused... "

“I’m Thorne Thorne,” Thorne interrupted. “This is Aspen. She’s my sister.”

Aspen waved. Leaf wings fluttered. The laptop camera bloomed; literally. A flower grew out of the webcam.

“What... ”

“She’s six,” Thorne continued. Queen voice. Six year old Queen voice. “She was in an egg, and now she’s here. She makes things grow, so, don’t be mean.”

Wellie put a hand on Aspen’s head to steady her. Aspen was shaking. Because there were many faces and after being alone in egg for so long, many was scary.

Bronte growled lowly, at the fear in his daughter’s sister. The laptop speakers vibrated.

“Sorry,” Aspen whispered.

“Don’t be sorry,” Thorne said, loud. To the screen. “She’s not sorry. She’s growing. You’re scared of growing?”

“We are not scared,” said the box with China flag. “We are concerned about desert blooming. Mojave. 4 square kilometers overnight. This is climate manipulation.”

Aspen looked down.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said.

“She dreamed,” Eli cut in. “She had a nightmare and dreamed about grass. Her passive field is 5,000. It’s breathing, not manipulation."

“Entities must be contained,” said Russia box.

Barky lifted his head and looked at the screen. He aged the Russia box’s connection a little. Just enough to make it static.

Don’t, Wellie told Barky silently. With her Ending hands.

Barky laid back down, feeling sorry.

Thorne stood up on Bronte’s lap, Antlers just buds, gold eyes.

“I died,” Thorne said and the call went silent.

“My daddy died,” Thorne said. Pointing at Bronte. “as a tree Avatar. Protecting me and mama. His brother killed him. While he was tree.”

Bronte went still, Wellie went still. This was not in the briefing.

“My mama killed his brother,” Thorne said. Matter of fact. “Brought daddy back. That’s family.”

She looked at Aspen.

“Aspen was alone in egg. Since Last died. Since First slept. Now she’s not alone. She’s pack. You don’t contain pack. You feed pack.”

She looked straight at the Secretary-General.

“You want to talk? Talk. But you wear no shoes. And you bring snacks.”

Aspen, emboldened, added: “And no iron, because iron hurts.”

The Secretary-General stared. Then, very slowly, took off his shoes. One by one, the other boxes; after a look at Barky, at Wellie’s silver hair, at Bronte’s bark-lined hands, took off their shoes.

“Well,” Kaine whispered to Marcus. “That’s a first.”

---

After

The meeting lasted 19 minutes, but Thorne and Aspen got bored after 9. They left to go make the God-Tree grow a swing. Wellie and Bronte stayed.

“Containment is off the table,” Wellie said. Her voice older now. Ending voice. “She’s a child.”

“She’s a terraforming event,” USA said, but without shoes, it sounded less scary.

“She’s my daughter’s sister,” Bronte said. “My wife brought me back from death by killing my brother who killed me while I was a tree protecting my family. You think I’m going to let you put my daughter’s sister in a box?” The way he said brother, bark cracked in his voice. The room felt it.

“No,” Secretary-General said finally. “No boxes.”

“Good,” Wellie said. “Then we want school. For both of them, with teachers, and no iron. And with other kids.”

“Other kids would...”

“Learn,” Bronte said. “That pack is bigger than flags.”

The call ended. Shoes were put back on.

In the yard, Thorne and Aspen had made the God Tree grow a swing big enough for a werewolf prince, a hybrid queen, an old ending dog, and two barefoot goddirls.

Bronte sat, Wellie sat, Thorne and Aspen sat on their laps.

Barky lay under them, watching.