Scarecrow

The morning after we brought the last mother home, I woke to somebody arguing about a tree.

It took me a moment to realise the argument was outside.

Sera lay with her head against my shoulder. Risa had one hand resting on my chest. Luna was awake on the other side of the bed, staring at the ceiling with the expression of someone already deciding which part of the day needed her first.

“No,” I whispered.

She turned towards me.

“I haven’t moved.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Outside, Gareth said the roots would eventually reach the water line.

Someone else said the water line had only been there for a week and could surely be moved more easily than a tree.

Luna closed her eyes again.

“Five minutes.”

I kissed her forehead.

Sera made a small satisfied sound without waking properly.

We got nearly three.

Then Risa opened her eyes and said, “If they’re going to move that tree, I want to know where.”

They were not going to move it.

By the time we reached the square, Priya had joined the discussion and pointed out that the tree was the only place where people could sit in shade while waiting outside the kitchen.

Gareth looked at me.

I looked at the ground beneath the roots.

“The pipe can go around.”

The argument ended almost disappointingly quickly.

I moved the pipe, gave it enough space for the roots to grow, and left the tree exactly where it was.

Holt watched from his bench.

“Learning,” he said.

“I’ve been told.”

“Good. Saves me the trouble.”

He held out a bowl.

I took it.

Across the square, Eren and Tavia were eating with Maeve, Cassian, Elinor, and Ivo. Nobody at the table seemed willing to let anyone else leave it for very long.

Eren stood to fetch water.

Three people offered to go with him.

He laughed, then sat down again while Cassian carried the jug away.

I understood the impulse.

After someone came back from being missing, the simple act of letting them walk around a corner could feel unreasonable.

Risa leaned against me while I watched them.

“They’ll get used to it.”

“Yes.”

“So will you.”

I looked at her.

She smiled and stole a piece of bread from my bowl.

The visiting queen asked to see the country above Scarecrow.

Not from the air this time.

She wanted to feel the ground herself.

Our queen had already offered to go with her as far as the broad upper passage. Beyond that, the two could remain in contact while we walked the outer ridge.

Luna brought a map. Dot brought its recording hands. Sera brought a pencil and immediately lost it in her sleeve.

I found it before we left.

She took it without thanking me, which seemed fair after I smiled.

The visiting mother moved carefully through the passage, with two adults from our queen’s brood showing her the wider turns. Her three familiar attendants remained with the thirteen young in the court.

She stopped at the outer opening.

The city lay above and behind us. Ahead, the ridge opened into a sheltered fold of land with good stone beneath it and a line of scrub following a little seasonal watercourse.

I had passed it many times without imagining anyone would want to live there.

The queen looked at it for a long while.

Then she asked what lived beneath the ridge.

I looked.

Stone, water, roots, small burrowing things. No occupied brood chambers. No human structures.

Luna showed her the deeper water moving under the western ground.

Sera crouched and put her hand against the sun-warmed rock.

“Sheltered from the worst wind,” she said.

The queen lowered one forelimb to the earth.

*There is room here.*

“Yes,” I said.

*Would your people object if mine lived beside them?*

I looked towards Scarecrow.

“That isn’t a question I should answer alone.”

She considered me.

Then she settled back from the edge.

*Ask them.*

We held the meeting in the square after the midday meal.

Not everyone came. Some people were working. Some had no wish to sit through another discussion of anything. Wren left the proposal where they could read it afterwards and invited them to speak privately if they preferred.

The queen wanted a home in the sheltered fold beyond the outer ridge.

Her people would have their own chambers and their own paths. They would remain her brood, not become a branch of ours or a labour force belonging to Scarecrow.

She wanted to live close enough for help and conversation, and far enough that her young would not be underfoot every time someone carried a table through the square.

That last part made several people smile.

Toren did not.

He sat near the back with his restored hand folded over the other one.

When Luna asked for questions, he stood.

“What happens if they attack?”

Nobody told him that was an unkind question.

Luna answered plainly.

“We defend people. The same as we would if humans attacked.”

“And if somebody here hurts one of them?”

“We stop that too.”

He looked at the queen’s broad passage beyond the buildings.

“My brother died in a brood attack.”

The square grew quiet.

I had not known that.

He looked at me.

“You fixed my arm. That doesn’t mean I know how to feel about them.”

“You don’t owe me a feeling,” I said.

His jaw tightened.

Then he sat down.

Dot carried his words to the visiting queen exactly as he had spoken them.

She answered after a long silence.

She had lost people too. Some to humans. Some while her own brood were being forced to fight others.

She did not ask him to forget his brother.

She asked whether he would allow her young to grow without making them answer for a death they had not chosen.

Toren looked down at his hands.

He did not answer immediately.

We let him have the time.

The practical questions took longer.

Where would the brood cross the outer paths?

Would people know when large adults were moving near the growing ground?

How would a frightened child ask one to stop?

Could the queen hear every conversation in our houses?

“No,” I said to that one.

Dot explained the difference between noticing movement nearby and understanding human speech through stone. Our queen could not simply rummage through anyone’s thoughts. Neither could the visiting mother.

People seemed relieved enough that I realised we should have said it earlier.

The queen asked questions of her own.

Would human children enter the nursery because they were curious?

Probably, if we did nothing to teach them otherwise.

Would people expect her adults to carry loads whenever asked?

They should not.

Could her brood refuse work?

Yes.

Could they come to the medical building?

Yes, and we would make an entrance that fitted them without taking away the quiet human rooms.

Sera began drawing while people talked.

Separate paths where they were useful. Shared spaces where everyone wanted them. Clear places to meet, with room to turn around without anyone being trapped against a wall.

The picture grew less tidy as the questions became better.

I recognised that by now.

It usually meant we were getting somewhere.

Toren spoke again near the end.

“I don’t want them passing my window at night without warning.”

The visiting queen accepted that immediately.

Her brood would use the agreed outer route. If something urgent required another way, they would ask or send warning where they could.

Toren nodded once.

He did not look happy.

He also did not leave.

When we finished, the agreement was simple enough to read aloud without losing everyone halfway through.

A neighbouring home. Marked paths. No forced work. No entry into private rooms or nurseries without permission. Help offered in danger. Problems brought to people who would listen before they became another reason to be afraid.

Nobody called it a treaty.

Holt said that could wait until someone found a better word for the place where the latrines needed to go.

The queen asked what a latrine was.

Dot explained.

She had several useful observations.

We added them to the drawing.

I began the new chambers the following morning.

The queen stayed beside me and chose their shapes.

Our queen joined us through the living connection they had both accepted, offering advice about the ground and the wet season. The planetary queen listened from her mountain when the discussion turned to the young and the space they would need as they grew.

I did not build a human house and make the doors larger.

The resting spaces were different. The feeding areas were different. The paths between them needed to carry familiar vibrations without turning every footstep outside into noise inside the nursery.

I had learned some of that from the temporary courts.

The mother taught me the rest as we worked.

Luna brought clean water into a protected basin and made sure the outflow travelled away from the living chambers. Sera helped decide where sunlight could enter without leaving the young exposed to the cold night air.

Liam warmed a stretch of stone so the mother could judge how it held heat.

Toby listened while her attendants moved through the first completed passage.

“Too much carrying from the outer path,” he said.

I separated the foundation beneath that section.

The mother tested it herself.

Better.

By afternoon, the young had somewhere they could begin to recognise as home.

The queen stood in the new nursery and touched the wall.

*This is not borrowed?*

“No.”

*Not payment for work later?*

“No.”

She turned towards the opening, where her attendants were waiting.

Then she called her young inside.

Moving the rest of her brood took more than one trip.

Keir and Aster organised those journeys with the mother and the neighbouring queen who had watched the old route. I helped carry the larger groups when that was useful, but Keir’s aircraft made its own flights, with supplies going out and familiar adults returning.

We checked the old chambers before the final departure.

No one remained beneath the receiving place.

The mother chose to leave the restored watercourse open. Other living things would use it after her people were gone.

The abandoned machinery stayed harmless.

We brought the records home.

At Scarecrow, Wren kept a separate account of the arriving brood with help from Dot and the queen. The human and kit roster did not suddenly claim them as new human residents.

They were neighbours.

Their young were already proving very interested in the sheltered strip of ground between their doorway and ours.

Nessa wanted to know whether they could play together.

The answer, after several conversations, was yes.

With adults nearby.

And without anyone climbing on anyone else until both sides understood the question.

Our queen watched the new neighbours settle with an interest she did not try to hide.

She could have stood over every decision.

She didn’t.

When the visiting mother wanted a resting hollow moved, our queen let her explain why instead of telling me what would be best.

When the two disagreed about an approach passage, Dot translated both answers and Sera drew a third arrangement that gave them what they needed.

The planetary queen seemed amused by the whole discussion.

*Good,* she told me privately when I asked how our queen’s learning was progressing.

“The new silver?”

*That too.*

I waited.

*She is learning to have room for an answer she did not make.*

I looked towards the two queens, each speaking in her own pattern, neither swallowed by the other.

“That matters for becoming planetary?”

*It matters for remaining herself when many minds are near.*

I understood more of that than I would have a month earlier.

Power could make a person larger without making them wiser.

The queen was doing the harder work as well.

She asked me to help with another stage of growth once the new nursery was occupied.

We met in her enlarged chamber, with the planetary queen guiding the changes she chose.

This time the new silver reached farther into the supporting structures of her body. The paths branched without crowding one another. She could hold more conversations clearly, separating a nearby attendant’s question from a distant queen’s answer without losing either.

I helped supply the material and shape the parts she wanted help with.

She did more of the work herself than last time.

At one point she stopped me.

*Let me try that.*

I took my hand away.

She changed the structure slowly, checked the result, then adjusted it again.

It settled correctly.

I grinned.

She noticed.

*You look as the young do when they learn a new path.*

“I feel about like that.”

The planetary queen let us enjoy it before asking the next question.

By the end, our queen’s body had changed visibly. Broader supporting plates. More room between the structures that carried her weight. Living silver moving in ordered patterns I could recognise as the beginning of something much greater.

Not a sudden replacement of the queen we knew.

Her own growth, chosen and understood.

She looked towards the outer passage.

*The chamber will need another turn widened.*

Sera, who had come down to see the result, sighed and reached for her pencil.

“I knew it.”

The water reserve took the rest of that afternoon.

Residents from the western houses came to look at the drawing before we touched the ground. One wanted a washing place closer to the courtyard. Another pointed out that the proposed access would put people carrying water directly across the schoolroom entrance.

We changed both things.

Luna followed the natural flow beneath the ridge while I opened a protected route to the new reserve. We left enough water in its old course for the ground and growth beyond us.

The clean supply stayed apart from the drains. The medical building received its own accessible connection, and the storage space could be isolated with ordinary valves if someone needed to repair it.

Toren made the door fittings.

He brought them over in a wooden tray and set them beside the opening.

One was the hinge from the prison.

He had made a second to match it.

“Quiet-room door’s done,” he said when I looked at them. “These are the next pair.”

I picked one up.

The tool marks were still there.

“Good work.”

He nodded and took it back to fit it himself.

I let him.

Risa arrived with lunch long after lunch should have happened.

She found Luna standing over the open reserve, following the water through its first complete cycle.

“If you stare at it much longer, it’ll become self-conscious,” she said.

Luna looked up.

“It’s working.”

“I can see that.”

Risa handed her a bowl.

Luna took it, then looked at me.

“Have you checked the lower join?”

“Yes.”

“The return?”

“Yes.”

Risa placed a spoon in her hand.

“The soup?”

Luna looked down and finally smiled.

We sat in the shade of the new wall while people tried the taps.

One of the children filled a cup, emptied it, and filled it again simply because the water came when asked.

Risa watched with her head tilted against my shoulder.

I put my hand over hers.

No one asked for a storm.

No one asked for a miracle.

For a few minutes, a tap was enough.

Toby and Wren chose a house near the schoolroom.

They told us about it as though it were a matter of moving a few boxes.

It was not.

Wren had been careful with her own space for as long as I had known her. Toby had never asked her to give it up simply because he wanted to wake beside her more often.

Now she stood in the doorway of the little house, looking at the sunlight on the floor.

“The records stay elsewhere,” she said.

Toby nodded.

“The medical bags too.”

He hesitated.

“One small bag?”

She looked at him.

“For ordinary things,” he added. “Bandages. Splinters.”

“One small bag.”

He smiled.

Liam carried a box inside before either of them changed the agreement.

Anja followed with blankets. Sera took charge of the chairs. Luna discovered that the window would catch the morning breeze and spent several minutes explaining how that would affect the room in the wet season.

Risa listened, then moved a chair a little to the left.

“There.”

Luna considered it.

“Yes.”

I stood beside Toby while the others turned an empty room into somewhere he would live.

“Good?” I asked.

He watched Wren set her own cup beside his.

“Very.”

He said it quietly enough that I nearly missed it.

That evening, Toby asked whether he could try something in the square.

He looked more nervous than he had before the change to his silver.

Wren stood beside him with her arms folded, making no attempt to hide how pleased she was.

“What sort of something?” Priya asked.

“Music.”

The word travelled farther than he intended.

People looked up from bowls. Conversations paused. A few of the older arrivals moved closer with their chairs.

Toby glanced at me.

I shrugged.

He had started it.

He stood near the tree and made the three notes we had first heard in the medical room.

Then he continued beyond them.

The melody was simple. He told us afterwards that his father had used to make it while doing ordinary things, never quite the same way twice.

Toby built it carefully, finding each sound and letting it settle before adding another.

There were no instruments.

There was still something of breath and string in it, something warm and imperfect that kept it from sounding like a machine repeating an instruction.

When he reached the end, nobody spoke for a moment.

Then Nessa asked him to do it again.

So he did.

The second time, people moved.

Not many at first.

Dov held out a hand to Priya. She told him there were bowls to collect, then put down the one she was holding and took his hand anyway.

Liam asked Anja with such exaggerated seriousness that she laughed before standing.

A few others followed.

Toby watched Wren while he kept the music moving.

She came to him.

“Can you do that and dance?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s find out.”

The rhythm wobbled once when she took his hands.

He laughed, found it again, and stepped with her beneath the tree.

I had seen him exhausted, frightened, and close enough to death that counting the next beat had been the only thing in the world.

Now he was making music while the woman he loved taught him where to put his feet.

Sera touched my arm.

“Don’t look at him like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to cry before we’ve had a turn.”

I looked at her.

She held out her hand.

I took it.

Sera danced like she did most things once she had decided she wanted them.

With confidence, and a little impatience when my feet failed to keep up.

“You could move an entire building,” she said.

“I don’t usually have to move it in time with Toby.”

She laughed and came closer.

Her hand was warm in mine. The silver markings on her wrist caught the light as we turned.

There was no tremor in her fingers.

No calculation in my head about how long she could stay standing before she would need to sit.

She saw the thought cross my face.

For once she did not tease me about it.

She kissed me instead, then rested her forehead against mine for a moment while the music continued around us.

When she let go, Risa was waiting.

“Try not to step on me,” she said.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That sounds less reassuring than you think.”

She moved easily into my arms.

For a while we did not talk.

Then she said, “I like this.”

“The dancing?”

“The part where we have enough life left after the work.”

I held her a little closer.

“So do I.”

Luna pretended she had not been waiting for her turn.

She was very bad at it.

Risa gave her my hand with a smile, and Luna looked at the growing circle of dancers before stepping towards me.

“I don’t know this one.”

“Neither does Toby, entirely.”

She glanced towards him.

He was changing the melody as he went, Wren laughing at something he had said.

Luna relaxed.

“All right.”

We moved slowly at first.

Then she stopped watching her feet.

The square looked different from the middle of it. Warm windows. People sitting beneath the tree. Two kits near the schoolroom, one tapping lightly against the stone in time with the music.

At the edge of the agreed outer path, several Teeming adults watched with their young sheltered close.

Dot stood beside them, explaining what it could.

One little body began rocking from side to side.

Luna saw it and smiled.

I wished the night could stay exactly as it was for a little longer.

Then the tune changed, and we changed with it.

Toren remained on the bench for most of the evening.

I noticed him watching the young near the outer path.

Once, one wandered closer to the square than its attendant intended. The adult called it back before it reached the people.

Toren’s shoulders tightened.

Then eased when it turned away.

Later, he stood and carried an empty bowl to the kitchen.

The path took him near the attendant.

He stopped.

I could not hear what he said.

Dot turned towards him, listened, then translated something to the adult.

The attendant answered with a short movement of its forelimb.

Toren nodded and continued to the kitchen.

I did not follow him to ask whether that meant everything was better.

It was one exchange on one evening.

That was enough to leave alone.

The next morning, Adela Marr’s reply arrived with the ordinary pilot.

He came alone this time.

The packet contained acknowledgements of the witness statements, requests for clarification on two dates, and a comparison of the destination lists we had shown her.

The missing entries had been confirmed as absent from the copy supplied to her office.

She had not yet established why.

There was also a separate receipt for Luna’s letter and the evidence addressed to her father.

Delivered to General Windsor’s office.

Not merely accepted by a registry somewhere between us.

Luna read the wording twice.

Then she put the page flat on the table.

“His office,” she said.

“Yes,” Holt answered.

“It doesn’t say he’s read it.”

“No.”

She nodded.

But she did not put the page with the older forwarding receipts.

She made a new place for it.

I understood why.

A door had not opened yet.

Someone had at least knocked on the right one.

The pilot stayed long enough to eat.

He watched the new water point, the children carrying cups, the clear route beside the neighbouring brood’s home.

He asked Keir about the aircraft.

Keir showed him what could be shown without handing over control of anything, and the two spent a considerable time discussing the landing behaviour of a craft I had built mostly by being told why my first ideas were inconvenient.

When he returned to the receiving room, the pilot looked at me.

“They’re going to have trouble describing this place.”

“Why?”

“Because every report I’ve seen still calls it a camp.”

I looked outside.

A door opened. Someone carried a loaf across the square. Water ran into a bucket beneath the tree we had decided not to move.

“Scarecrow will do,” I said.

He smiled a little.

Then he took the return packet and went back to his shuttle.

We spent that afternoon doing nothing anyone would put in a station report.

Sera hung a second shelf in the little room. I helped by holding it exactly where she told me, which she said was a welcome development.

Risa sorted the books by the window and refused to explain why one stack belonged on the left and another on the right.

Luna sat at the table with the new receipt beside her, then finally put it away and came to help us decide where a chair should go.

The chair moved three times.

I offered to make another.

All three told me no.

In the end we left it beneath the window, where someone could sit with their feet in the sun.

Risa tried it first.

She leaned back, closed her eyes, and put a hand against her stomach.

Sera sat on the floor beside her. Luna leaned in the doorway. I stood looking at the room we were slowly filling with a life that had not arrived yet.

For once, I did not try to hurry it.

Later, beneath the city, our queen asked whether I had heard the music.

“Yes.”

*The young liked the repeating part.*

“So did the human ones.”

She considered that.

Then she asked whether Toby might play near the meeting passage another evening, where both broods could hear without crowding the square.

“I’ll ask him.”

*He may refuse.*

“Yes.”

She seemed pleased that I had understood the important part.

I sat beside the water for a while and watched her new silver move through its quiet work.

Far away, the planetary queen was resting with her own young. Nearby, the last mother was helping hers learn the turns of a home she had chosen.

Above us, Toby and Wren were unpacking the final box in their house.

There were still unanswered questions in the receiving room.

They could wait until morning.

Day 590–592. A place to stay.

Mother of the thirteen chose to establish a home beside Scarecrow. Proposal discussed with residents and both queens. Separate brood identity, agreed paths, privacy, voluntary work, mutual help. New chambers built to her requirements. Remaining brood transferred from the old receiving place over several journeys. Final check confirmed old chambers empty and drainage safe. Records retained. Neighbours settled; no automatic addition to human roster.

Our queen completed another chosen stage of silver and supporting-body growth under the planetary queen’s guidance. Increased ability to hold distinct conversations without interference. Much of the shaping done herself. Her teaching includes listening as well as material change.

Independent clean-water reserve completed with resident input. Medical supply connection, accessible controls, drainage separation checked. Toren fitted the doors. Tree kept where it was.

Toby and Wren moved into their house near the schoolroom. Music in the square. Dancing. Some people stayed on the benches, which was allowed too.

Adela confirmed discrepancies between destination lists. Cause still unresolved. New receipt confirms Luna’s letter and evidence delivered to General Windsor’s office. No personal reply yet.

One hundred and seventy-seven humans and kits on the roster. One hundred and seventy-one humans, six kits. No new human or kit arrivals.

The neighbours asked for another evening of music.

I think that is worth writing down.