Free Higher Mythology by Jody Lynn Nye

disturbance of moving from one place to another woke the baby to dreaming wonder. Dola caught sight of her gentle blue-green eyes wandering from one bright spot to another in the gardens. For a moment, she was afraid the baby might start crying. Asrai started when a crow burst like black cannon-fire from between two stalks of corn, and Dola held her breath, but Asrai laughed out loud. Dola explained to her very carefully what it was she was seeing.
    “Maybe you’ll remember some of this when you’re grown,” Dola said thoughtfully. “I wonder just how much it is babies can understand.”
    Birds sang and swooped overhead in the bright sky. Dola followed their song out of the cornfield and into the meadow behind it. She hopped across the narrow cut of the stream, and followed the curve of the earth uphill. There was a good spot just over the crest of the gentle rise that was always sheltered from the wind, like the palm of a cupped hand. The two of them were completely alone here. The great farmhouse and barn were hidden away behind a stand of trees as the cottages were concealed among the corn. No habitation, for Big or Small Folk lay within sight. All around the edge of the meadow was a curtain of trees. Most of it belonged to the Forest Preserve, owned by the state, so Keith Doyle explained to them. It meant that never would a house be built there. The Folks’ privacy would remain absolute as long as they lived in this place. That knowledge gave her a feeling of hitherto unimaginable freedom. It was glorious.
    She sank into the tall, cool grass and spread out a soft blanket for Asrai to lie upon, face up. The infant, her face protected from the sun by an overhanging dock leaf, inspected the nearby weeds and pulled a handful of plant stems toward her toothless mouth. Dola glanced at them to make certain none of them were harmful or poisonous, then let her taste them. She looked around at the splendor of the day.
    Only a few feathered clouds streaked the sky, far above her. It would be bitterly cold when night fell. Aylmer, who read the weather better than anyone else, said rain wouldn’t fall for several days. Dola was glad. She’d give all she had for more golden days like this. The privilege of sitting out in the sun seemed an unimaginable gift. She shut her eyes and breathed in the heady scent of growing corn, grass, flowers, trees, and listened to the quiet whisper of the stream.
    How life had changed. Before last year, she had never seen an open field. Now she and her people owned this fine stretch of land—owned it safe and secure, thanks to Keith Doyle. Dola sighed. If only he were not quite so Big, nor so old. She was his favorite among her people, she knew, but if they were more on a level, he would act less like a kindly uncle toward her and more like a—what? A boyfriend? Dola felt her cheeks burn. Such things were beginning to intrude themselves on her consciousness as stealthily as the growing changes in her body. Her mother smiled indulgently at her when they had little, private discussions. Why were her own feelings always in such a turmoil these days?
    She knew the time had come to turn her back on childhood, but it was such a long, long path to becoming a woman. One day, she’d have a babe of her own. For the meanwhile, it was good practice for her to care for one like Asrai, who was so good.
    The baby, fistful of hay stuffed into her mouth, was watching her.
    “Well, what are you staring at, then?” she asked, her voice caressing and indulgent. For a moment, Dola heard the echo of her own mother asking the same thing. Perhaps she was further along the path than she thought. Would it really be so hard a journey? “Little one, look at this!”
    Dola spread out the vision cloth between her two hands. The scrap of cotton was growing ragged after many years’ washing and folding. Now that the loom was assembled, she might have a new cloth woven to her taste. She wanted a piece of white percale, just