Free Sunborn Rising by Aaron Safronoff

but thought better of it as she imagined more quiet anger. Even as she thought about ways she could get in and out without being caught, her body instinctually prepared for sleep. She circled and picked at her bedding ferns, and then lay down. Her mind continued in a million directions, fighting her body’s need for rest.
    Eventually, her body won.
    Throughout the night, Barra’s sleep was disturbed by nightmares. Her room became liquid, tarry black, and she woke up drowning in it. She fell asleep again only to run from a darkness that chased her over an endless stretch of time and trees. When it finally suffocated her dreamscape, she woke gasping for breath.
    Awake in the space between dreams, Barra stared into the shadowy corners of her nestroom, her imagination untethered from reality. She was sure the darkness was growing and moving, and morphing into something terrible.

    By the time the soft light of morning poured out of the brightlumens around her nestroom, Barra was still tired, but glad the night was over. Barra could hear her mother working in the kitchen as she got up, stretched, and groomed herself. Her mother’s words from the night before stayed unwelcome in her mind, and it was with considerable effort that she threw them out. She was hurt, angry with her mother, but she had to let it go. There were more important matters.
    As far as Barra had known, her mother had always been a gardener. Now that Barra had the notion that her mother could assemble the Elder Council at will, her mind was flooded with questions. Also, she wanted to ask about the Creepervine and Kudmoths, but any discussion would be an admission of eavesdropping, and reveal that she’d found her father’s journals. Both were trouble.
    Finished preening, Barra extended her claws into the wall to sharpen them. Flinching from the soreness, she haltingly tried to put an edge back on the claws that remained. She arched and flexed her back, and cut thin shreds from the bark of the wall. Taking a deep breath, she left her nestroom and entered the kitchen. Her mother was at the opposite door with her back to Barra.
    “Wait, from who? Jerrun?” Brace was distraught as she interrupted the odd-looking Rush mid-delivery. “Where’s Nevel?” she interrogated the messenger. He had cataract-cloudy eyes and a twitchy smile. Completely distracted, Brace didn’t notice Barra slinking into the room.
    “I don’t know any Nevel.” The Rush rolled his eyes, making it clear for Brace exactly how little he cared. He asked, “Would you like to hear the message or not?”
    Something happened to Nevel, Brace thought, and Jerrun knows about it. Why else would he send his own messenger? Suspicious, Brace gestured for the old Rush to continue.
    “Where was I? Right. The Elders will convene this evening as you requested, but be advised, Brace, it is exactly this kind of request, if found frivolous, that will result in the loss of your inherited right to audience. See you tonight,” the Rush concluded with a lick of his lips, expecting payment.
    Brace was careful to say nothing about how she felt about Jerrun’s thinly veiled threat. She had no doubt that Jerrun’s Rush had the same instructions she’d sent with hers: wait and listen. She waved the Rush away, and said, “Thank you. I’m sorry, was there something else?”
    “I’m a little hungry, actually.” The Rush was incredulous.
    “Oh, how terrible of me. Honestly, I’m embarrassed by the state of my wyrmwood, especially compared to what you must be used to, being in Jerrun’s care and all. I really have nothing to offer. I’m sure you understand,” Brace dared the messenger to challenge her.
    The Rush weighed his response carefully, and then he spoke like the words were acid on his tongue, “I won’t press you then, of course, but you should tend to your tree, Venress Swiftspur. It may be that’s the reason your Nevel has gone missing.” His face twitched as he feigned a smile. “Enjoy