Blinking awake, my vision fogged and my head so heavy. My brothers were sitting round a fire with LoPa who was talking quickly.

  “I didn’t want it to be like this, but it was the only thing we could do.”

  “Where’s mother?” My voice slurred. My mouth tasted acidic, like I had eaten too many tomatoes. My body felt disconnected and I panicked. The phantom of what Whaaloo had done to me set fire through my limbs. This panic reassured me because I knew I was feeling. But, still, all was wrong. My head weighed like a mountain on my neck.

  LoPa turned to me, “My little Lu. Mother’s—we left.”

  “What?” My thoughts trudged forward. I blinked, and my vision cleared slowly. We were sitting between trees. We were in the forest. The suns were both high overhead. Shining down but giving little warmth. More than shining. Blaring. My head aching, as if it were being squeezed tight in enormous hands. As if my brain were too big for my skull. We were all covered in furs, as if it were already winter. Sweaty. My skin clammy and my throat becoming drier and drier.

  Medis said, “LoPa stole us away from mother.” His voice was thick and slow, the words dripping from his lips.

  LoPa’s face fell into his hands and he shook his head, “No.” He faced us again. His eyebrows angling up, his eyes begging us to understand. He spoke with his hands, gesturing, reaching towards us with his palms up. “Not stolen. Saved you. That’s what I keep saying. It’s the tea. It’s not out of your systems yet.” He rummaged in a sack and pulled out dried meat. “Here,” he handed pieces to each of us. “Chew that and listen.”

  We did. It was rough in my mouth and chewing was difficult, taking so much of my energy. So much thought. And it was so dry, making me thirstier.

  “You’ll all be fine tomorrow, once you sleep again. I had to do it. I had to save you. Your mother would’ve kept us all there to face a dragon. We would have died. No, just listen. I know what you think. I know what I said yesterday. I lied, but I lied for all of us. Even her. Your mother is an amazing person. An amazing warrior. I’ve never met anyone like her. No one can fight like her and no one can—” He took a slow breath in through his nose, then exhaled loudly. He dropped his hands. “I love her. I love your mother. So much. So very much. I would do anything for her and your HoPa. I love them so dearly. You’re so young so you don’t yet understand, so I’ll try to explain.

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  “When we fell in love, we each split our hearts in three. I gave a piece to HoPa and your mother, and they each gave a part to me. Together, we are whole. Apart, we are missing our own hearts. Leaving them—it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I had to protect you. Because when you were all born—when your mother created the three of you—our hearts split again. We gave all our hearts to you. All the best parts. Your heart is our love. We live for you. I couldn’t—I would happily die with your mother. I would stand beside her and face down any number of dragons. But you—you’re so young.” His voice broke and he wiped away tears. “You need someone. Someone who can keep you alive. Maybe we can find the clan and I’ll return for your mother and HoPa.” He smiled weakly. “We might just all live. Maybe mother will come too.

  “I think she will. When she sees we’re gone, she’ll come too. And when she’s out here in the forest with us, she’ll stay. She’ll come with us and we’ll all live.

  “And you can have a life beyond the clan.” Nodding rapidly, licking his lips, his eyes so large and intent. It scared me, seeing him so terrified. That’s what he was. I knew it even then. It unsettled me, that he would take us from our mother who we knew could keep us safe. He took us and had no idea what to do or how to keep us safe. “There’s so much more to the world than the clan and our village in the forest. You could be singers or warriors or anything you ever dreamed of being!”

  He was so sad. So broken apart.

  I pitied him.

  But mostly I was so tired. Too tired to put up any resistance. I slept for most the day and through the night.

  The next morning, we were fully ourselves, and we walked with LoPa. Walked away from mother, from HoPa. When we stopped for the night, LoPa made soup. It was thin and bland.

  “I wish I had my lute,” a wan smile crossed his lips. “I’d sing the songs I wrote for your mother. I wrote so many.”

  Akmuo and Medis held hands and they took his. Akmuo said, “Don’t worry, LoPa. We’ll protect you.”

  LoPa wept then. He threw his arms round them and cried, openmouthed.

  “I’m tired of my grief,” he said when he had calmed. We were lying together, watching the moons, waiting for sleep.