Hagovi’s Bridge Chapter Three: Hagovi’s Father
“We have a plan, Father. I will go with Testoneel and live quietly on the outskirts. Closer but not close enough to be trouble.”
Listen to the Soundcloud audio narration by N. MacCameron
“Hagovi!”
The sound of her second syllable in Father’s chest sent tingles of warmth down to her toes. She ran forward. His muscular arms wrapped around her and held her close to his heart.
Father waved to a chair beside his. “Sit, child. Are you hungry?”
The wrought iron table held two plates piled high with starinis leaves and berries.
“Yes, Father.”
“You are hungry. Go ahead, I said the blessing.” Father smiled and she saw green between his teeth. He picked up a fork and started munching. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, I did.” Hagovi answered between mouthfuls.
“You slept well.” Father tucked in again. “Where’s your mother?” He glanced toward the door.
“I think she’s with the worms.”
“With the worms.”
Mother never came to breakfast. She ate little pockets of seeds through the day.
Hagovi added, “They’ll change soon. She doesn’t want to miss it.”
Father pushed back from his empty plate. He stretched his back against the chair. “You swept?”
Hagovi glanced out the corner of her eye at him. She had come to understand that this was his way of asking after her brother.
“Yes.” She shook her head. “Just seconds.”
“Just seconds.” Father rolled his shoulders. “You are a good sweeper.”
“Thank you!” Hagovi smiled.
“A good responsible child. I worry for you though. What are you going to…?”
“We have a plan, Father. I will go with Testoneel and live quietly on the outskirts. Closer but not close enough to be trouble.”
“Not close enough to be trouble.” Father sighed. He poured two long glasses of his special cordial and lifted one toward her.
They touched their glasses together and raced each other to finish. The thick red liquid warmed Hagovi like Father’s greeting.
“Well, you better be off.” Father shooed her with his hand. “I’m going to harvest more starinis. You’re going to work for the Professor.”
“For the Professor?” Hagovi half stood from her chair and gripped the table edge.
“First day of work. I organised it. You’ll even get paid.”
“Paid? What does that matter?” Where would I use it?
“You’ll need it on the outskirts. It’s a way to keep out of trouble.” Father rose from the table and dressed in his harvesting suit.
In the front hall they met Testoneel already dressed in outdoor gear. She held a suit out for Hagovi to put on.
The fabric was stiff and rough, made from snake skins that Mother spun mixed with the equrbup wool. The trousers crunched. The tunic crackled.
Hagovi wound the extra fine weave of her headscarf around her head and over her face. Testoneel fitted her hard hat over the wrap.
Where are we going? What will the work be? What is payment?
Father nodded to her and Testoneel. They nodded back. He opened the front door.
A blast of seconds strafed Hagovi from behind and pushed her down the roofless tunnel. And this is sheltered, she thought. The wind has picked up since I swept.
Where are we going?
Hagovi thought over the different parts of the castle. Father nicknamed them according to their function.
The Nurse was a greenhouse where all their food grew.
The Plumber was the moisture farm where all their water was distilled, condensed, and stored.
Therefore the Professor…? Hagovi wondered. Learning? Experimenting? Father was always experimenting with better ways to live at the edge of the world.
She could get to the Nurse and the Plumber and the Shepherd (Mother’s worm farm) through tunnels linking all parts of the castle. They only dressed up like this and exposed themselves to the blasting to search through the Barrier Trash for something useful.
Every time the wool turned black, Testoneel went to the old land. She was more used to trekking.
Hagovi’s feet shifted and sank into the billions and billions of dead seconds heaped eons upon eons to form the ground. She caught up with Father and tucked under his arm. His bulk eased the burden of the wind.
Where are we going?
The castle almost disappeared behind them. Peeking through the slit in her hard hat, Hagovi saw a huddle in front of them. The closer they got to it, the rounder it seemed, like a mound of pebbles stuck together with mud.
They stood in the shadow of a door that faced the Barrier.
Like our back door. The Prodigal’s door.
Father opened it and gestured for them to go first. Are we Prodigals?
Hagovi tore off her hat and pulled hard at the head scarf. She looked up and around at the space inside the domed shell.
About the Author: Where are you from? Chances are, I’ve been there. Africa claims me as her child, Europe claims me as a nomad, Canada claims me as a settler. My voice, accent, outlook and style reflect all the places I have lived and loved. What do you love? I love children and hope never to grow too old to get down on the floor and build, romp, or fly through a child’s imagination. I love animals and am pleased to say, they seem to love me back. https://leoshine.micandpen.com/
