I really struggled to come up with something today, but I finally went through my mental list of things that I know happen (and that are referenced in the novel) and picked a scene from there.

We’re almost to the end!

Thanks for reading.

Tasanko heard her parents argue and when the door slammed, she peered out her bedroom window to see her mother storming into the woods. The woods were dangerous. Everyone said so. But not for her mother. Her mother talked to the wolves and to the crows. Her mother talked to anything with teeth, and never had she’d been bitten. Not as far as Tas knew.

Three of the five hung over the trees casting confusing shadows. The paths were confusing at night, sounds sent out to muddle the senses and ensure prey.

Nonetheless, nine-year-old Tas had no fear. She had great vines of curiosity from which she was more than willing to swing. And so she eased herself out the window of the second floor bedroom her boots in hand. She risked the noise of the boots dropping into the bushes, and she reached for the tree branches. A few overripe plums broke free and tumbled down. She stepped on one once she had her boots on, its thick juice splattering. The scent would stick to her, attracting certain forest creatures, but Tas didn’t care. Her mother was going to be very far ahead by now.

She rushed into the shadows, certain of the direction her mother had taken. If she’d been a bit slower, if she had taken the time to bring her strange pet rabbit Beatrice along, she’d have seen the front door of her home open and her father stride into the garden. But she hadn’t expected her father to follow. He never had before.

Abeo hesitated by the Plutonian plum tree, the only that grew on the entire planet. He and his wife had planted when they bought the house, for good luck and homemade wine. In the window above was Beatrice, her rabbit ears shimmering in the light of the moons. “You watch over Tasa,” he whispered upward. “There’s going to be trouble.” That his daughter might not be in her room didn’t occur to him, though he should’ve known better. Later he would wish he’d checked. It might have made all the difference.