Tree Singer by Jacci Turner (best novels for beginners TXT) 📕

the Ocean Clan. Lots of people from Ister have red hair and white skin with freckles. He took me once to see the Old Land, as he calls it. My skin is actually darker than most, because of my ma. You should see how pale my da is! Scare ya to death!”

Mayten laughed, surprised to find Hunter so easy to talk to. “So how did you end up here?”

“I wasn’t meant for the sea, threw up all the way to Ister and back. And I had no gift with my hands, but I was always great with a bow. I begged to be apprenticed to a woodsman and finally my da gave in. They sent me over to your clan where I started my training a bit late. When I got the blank apron, I asked if I could try hunting for a questing team and the rest, as they say, is history!”

Chapter Eleven

That night after dinner they sat around the fire near an aspen grove. Mayten rubbed her sore feet and tried to stretch out her aching back.

Adven turned to Cather. “All right, Healer. What stories do you have?”

Tray perked up and Hunter added a couple more sticks to the fire. Anatolian was curled up around Mayten’s feet.

Cather straightened her back and smiled shyly. “Healers don’t have stories like you do. We don’t get chased by wild beasts, but I have heard stories of the strange things healers have seen.”

“Like what?” Tray asked, leaning toward her.

Cather smiled, setting her dimples dancing.

If that boy can’t see how gorgeous she is, he’s blind. Mayten almost rolled her eyes.

“Like the time one of the tree cutters got his leg crushed under a tree that fell the wrong way. My great-aunt said his leg had been crushed and there was nothing they could do to fix it. They had to cut the poor man’s leg off with a tree saw.”

Mayten shivered. No one in her clan had one leg, not in her memory anyway. Had the tree cutter died?

“Old Gimpy.” Adven nodded. “I remember him.”

“Yes,” Cather agreed. “He died when I was a baby, but one of the carpenters fashioned a half leg made of wood for him and I guess he lived many years after the accident.”

Mayten swallowed hard, studying her friend a bit more closely. How could Cather be so casual about something so awful? She would certainly not want to spend her life cutting off limbs.

“Cather, what’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen?” Tray asked. “With your own eyes, I mean.”

It was so dark that Mayten could barely see Tray on the far side of the fire. Firelight flickered across his face, chest, and knees, but all else was lost in the blackness that pressed close all around.

Cather didn’t hesitate. “That one is easy. We were delivering Lizzy Builder’s baby and after we’d delivered a precious little girl, Lizzy started heaving again.”

Mayten knew this story by heart. Her friend had raced up the mountain that day, excited to tell her about the special birth.

“Then we delivered a little boy,” Cather continued. “He was beautiful too. We were getting him all cleaned up when Lizzy started heaving again. This time she gave birth to a second boy, a tiny little thing. He wasn’t formed right. It looked as though his spine hadn’t closed up in the back. He never even took a breath. It was the saddest thing.” Her face mirrored the sorrow in her words. “I’d never heard of three babies born at once. I only wish he’d lived.”

“I never heard of such a thing either,” Tray said.

“Wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t held him in my own hands,” Cather said in a distant voice.

Mayten knew her friend wasn’t sitting around the campfire right then. She was back with Lizzy, holding the tiny stillborn baby.

Adven cleared his throat. “What kinds of tales do singers have? Do they sing to each other every night?” He laughed—at least she thought it was a laugh. Sounded more like rocks rubbing together.

What had she done to make this man hate her so?

The joy she’d felt moments ago vanished as she took a breath, determined not to let him see her confusion. “No, we don’t sing to each other. Our stories are more . . . informational than sensational.”

“Tell us one,” Tray said. He sounded overly enthusiastic, like he was trying to make up for his uncle’s rudeness.

A log shifted on the fire, sending sparks dancing into the night sky. Smoke stung Mayten’s nose as she considered the stories she knew.

“Once, a long time ago,” she began, “a trading ship came to Trigginsfeld bearing a cargo of eucalyptus saplings. This happened back when the clan was young and just starting to build. There were already pine forests and an oak woodland, but the people wanted to build fast without stripping the forest. The ship’s trader claimed the trees would grow to a man’s height or more every year. The people were thrilled. They bought all the saplings and planted them among the oaks. The trees matured quickly just as the man said, but they grew with scrawny, twisted trunks useless for building.”

“That’s what happens when you plant something where it doesn’t belong,” Adven said.

Mayten’s face flamed hot as the fire. “Those eucalyptus trees are useful in many ways.”

“Healers use the oil from the leaves for all kinds of things!” Cather chimed in.

“Well,” Adven grumbled. “Wasn’t that—educational. Time for bed, children. Get some sleep and don’t give me a hard time when morning comes early.”

Mayten grimaced. The man was a grouch, among other things. She laid out her blanket near the fire as the nights were chilly. Cather joined her, pulling her own blanket over them both. Anatolian stretched out on Mayten’s other side, making her feel warm and secure.

The crackling fire was peaceful but sleep was a long time coming despite her exhaustion. Mayten couldn’t get the sting of Adven’s words out of her skull.

Cather wasn’t sleeping either. She must know how Adven’s words