Chapter Text
When Sumac Dendron dreamed, it was usually of her mother.
It was a silly dream, she knew it. How could she dream about a woman she had never met?
But in the dream, she didn't feel so silly. She was in awe of the beautiful soul that had brought her into this world.
In today's dream, Sumac was six. Ivy and Oak were beside her, skipping across the mossy ground. It was sunny, but not hot. The birds sang a beautiful melody, a song their father had sung to them many times when they were younger to help them fall asleep.
And there she was, floating amongst the flowers.
"Mom!"
Sumac had often been told she most closely resembled their mother, especially when they smiled. As Sumac aged, she found fewer and fewer reasons to smile, but how could she not, given how happy she was?
Ivy and Oak sprinted into Rhonda Dendron's arms, which remained open wide to hold all three of them.
Together. They belonged together.
"You're strongest together, my children." Even her voice was magical.
In her dreams, Sumac Dendron promised they would be. She promised she would be there for Ivy and Oak, no matter what. She promised she wouldn't let her mother down.
She was filled with such elation that she couldn't expect the weight of the request to weigh her down so heavily as she aged.
Sumac Dendron was many things, but she was not one to break a promise.
The first time little Sumac saw the inside of Dendron's Serums, she was struck with awe.
"You created all this?" she asked her dad. Phil Dendron smiled.
"I did."
"With stuff you found from outside?"
"That's right." He took her to a shelf with a variety of syrups and elixirs. He picked up a small bottle. "This mix is primarily made with elderberries, which we grow right outside." He pointed out the small window at the back of the wooden building, the one Sumac knew led to the garden.
"Teach me," she said. Her hands were drawn to every creation, every bottle and mixture. "Teach me how to make these."
"It's hard work. The garden requires careful care to keep things from dying. It's an art and a science with little room for error."
"Teach me," Sumac insisted. Even at the bright age of ten, Sumac knew what she wanted.
Her dad was right; it was hard work, but it was extremely gratifying work. The more she grew, harvested, created, and learned, the more she wanted to experiment and try new tonics. She loved the responsibility.
And when the dark circles under her dad's eyes slowly disappeared, she knew she had made the right choice.
The world sat quietly around Sumac as she carefully crafted Ivy's latest order. Double- and triple-checking the recipe didn't seem like enough as she mashed the thistle into the gum. Two more steps, and she'd be done.
And once the blackberry was added, no one would be able to attribute the nausea to her creation.
Carefully, carefully, Sumac worked to finish before Ivy and Oak showed up for the delivery. Sumac looked out the window, pleased to find the sun close to setting. As they grew, it became harder and harder to keep Ivy under control. Fortunately, the most important rule Sumac had was respected.
Never deliver when the sun is up.
Sumac leaned back in her chair, multiple vertebrae cracked with the readjustment. She carefully packaged the gum in a simple pack, one that lacked the familiar seal of Dendron's Serums. Then, she filled the empty slots with plain mint gum. Even with close examination, it was impossible to tell them all apart.
She brought the package out from the back of the shop and locked it in a safe that held all of their earnings for the day. Sumac knew she still had a few minutes before Ivy and Oak showed up, so she moved along with her closing responsibilities.
Unfortunately, that involved looking at the sales report for the last few days.
2x willow bark extract
1x dewberry jam
1x chamomile lotion
Yet the register stayed full, and the Dendron triplets haven't taken tesserae in a year.
Sumac would die before letting her sister and brother put their lives in danger like that.
We heal. The shelves around her proved that. Sure, it was a shame when the Peacekeepers broke out into a rash, or the abusive lumber foreman got too sick to work for a few days, but the Dendrons don't control who purchases what from them.
Who are they to deny a paying customer? It's not like any of Sumac's creations are lethal.
She healed more than she hurt, starting with her family first and foremost.
And that was enough for her.
She was able to finish all closing tasks before they showed up.
"Dearest sister," Ivy's voice bounced off the wooden walls as she entered. Sumac's eyes didn't rise from her work. She reached under the counter, sliding the gum package into her sleeve.
"You're early for once."
The two younger Dendron triplets joined Sumac at the front counter, along with an exaggerated eye roll from Ivy. The years of sustenance had done nothing for Ivy's small stature. Her coily hair so closely matched Sumac's that Ivy loved to joke that she would combine loose strands to make a wig for Oak. Oak's quiet smile, quiet everything, only made him more threatening.
"Dad's making stew tonight. Got lucky, caught a rodent in the garden. Unlucky for the little guy, I guess," Ivy looked up at Oak with a smirk, like it was the funniest thing she'd said all day. Knowing Ivy, it was likely this wasn't the first joke she tried to get Oak to smile.
"Great. That means you two will be home on time." Sumac glared at Ivy when she spoke, expecting another eye roll that never came.
"Obviously," Ivy said as she placed her small cloth satchel on the counter. Without wasting a second, Sumac added the product to the bag, and Ivy took the bag and put it on.
"Let's go." Ivy looked up at Oak, who only nodded in response. Before they left, Ivy approached Sumac, holding her palm out. Sumac rolled her eyes but obliged, meeting her palm to Ivy's. Oak did the same. They squeezed each other's hands, turned their wrist around, and tapped the backs of their palms together. Then, Ivy pulled them both into a big dumb hug that never got old.
"Be careful," Sumac whispered. Ivy ignored her comment, but Oak offered her a smile.
"I got her."
Sumac released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. As the store's front door closed, separating the triplets once again, she couldn't help but find herself impressed with all they've built up. Full bellies, full wallets, and no additional tesserae don't negate the threat of getting caught, but the Dendron's were cautious. They could afford nothing else.
With the entirety of Panem working against them, they've always been able to rise above it. As long as they stuck together and didn't take more risks than required, they might just make something of a life for themselves.
(Or at least, Sumac could make something of a life for Ivy and Oak.
As for what Sumac wanted? Well, that was yet to be determined.)
"We didn't kill him."
Thoughts ran through Sumac's mind as two sets of eyes fell upon her, looking for the guidance they had grown accustomed to receiving. Her voice remained unquivering, and the words held no meaning to her. They held no power.
Word of Marshall Vonn's unusual death spread faster than the plague, and the Dendron's chance of infection was high. Had it been anyone else, they might not have even heard, but the death of the mayor's brother, well, word spread quickly.
And Sumac knew it was only a matter of time before someone asked where that gum was purchased from.
It was unlabeled. It wasn't made in a flavor on their shelves.
(Yet the downside to Ivy dealing with the customers was that Sumac had no idea who procured the product from them. She had no idea what they valued. She had no idea how quickly they would shift the blame if given the opportunity.)
"They're going to find out!" Ivy's voice cracked with the words, and Sumac had to shush her. The woods around them could only hold secrets for so long, and it seemed the dealings within Dendron's Serums were no longer contained to the four walls surrounding them.
"They are not, because we didn't kill him." The tension in Sumac's voice was intense, way more intense than she intended. Ivy pulled her eyes away from her sister, leaning into her brother for support. He wrapped his arms around her, his jaw tight.
"What are we going to do?" Oak asked softly.
"Nothing," Sumac said. "You two are going to go home. You will not take any requests. We will focus only on what we offer on the shelves." Sumac took a breath and closed her eyes to block out the red circling around her.
(The fear, the fear of everything she'd worked so hard to build, crumbling down into a million pieces around her feet.)
"But-"
"But nothing. We cannot draw attention to ourselves." Sumac took a breath, the aroma of her shop attacking her senses. Evidence of her creations was hidden in the back. All it would take was a single Peacekeeper to search the place…
"Go home," Sumac said. She wanted to reach out, shove them both out the door, and shove them to safety. That had become something of a habit, she guessed. A habit she had no intention of breaking.
"W…what about you?" Ivy asked.
"I have a shop to run."
They hesitated, but eventually did leave Sumac. As much as she knew they didn't want to, they knew better than to argue with her.
This wasn't something that could be fixed in an argument anyway.
She turned on the fireplace, and the flames clashed with the heat of summer. She wanted to move quickly.
So she did. In the back, where all her ingredients are kept, was where she found herself. She left the labeled, common ingredients alone. The sage, chamomile, yarrow, and the like stayed safe from harm.
The oleander and distaff thistle had to go.
Sumac slipped on her gardening gloves, sweat already forming on her brow. She collected all the ingredients she had been working with an hour ago and placed them into a paper bag. She double and triple checked her workspace, under the desk, tucked in the deepest corners of drawers.
As far as she could tell, she collected it all.
(Then why wouldn't the pain in her gut subside?)
She took the paper bag and double-checked what was inside. Then, without wasting another second, the bag found its final home in the fireplace. She stood there as the flames licked the bag and a smoky, herbal scent filled Dendron's Serums.
She didn't stop the fire until there was nothing but ash left.
Dinner was quiet that night, and it was only a matter of time before their dad brought it up.
"It's just the reaping," Sumac said as she eyed Ivy. Fortunately, Ivy took the hint.
"Only one left," Ivy mumbled.
Phil Dendron offered a weak smile. When it came to the reapings, he was as hopeless as they were. Every year, the fear of hearing a Dendron name was worse than the last.
Sumac hated the lack of control. The inevitability of someone from Seven being sent to their death. No matter who won, Seven lost at least one child.
And there have been over a hundred of them. Over a hundred kids have been taken by the Capitol, leaving their loved ones with an unfilled hole in their hearts.
(Yet if that same Capitol assumed them guilty of a single death…
They would be wrong. They heal.
That's all they've ever done.
And when they got through this reaping, they'd go back to healing.)
"Sales are still okay?" he asked, looking at Sumac. She nodded.
"There's been a slowdown in allergy remedies. The garden has fully shifted for summer production. Sun creams and aloe vera, mostly."
"Good. That's good." The hint of regret danced on her father's words, and she knew what he was thinking. Eighteen was far too young for the responsibility of running a shop, but Sumac wouldn't dare lessen her workload.
"Everything's under control, Dad. We've got it."
"I know. You always have." He sighed, pushing his leftover bowl to Oak. "Your mother would be so proud of you. All of you."
The mention of their mother drew the color from Ivy's face. Sumac kicked her shin, and Ivy glanced away.
"I think so too," Sumac said.
She wasn't lying. She truly believed her mother would be proud of the young adults they had become. Unfortunate accidents be damned, they worked hard to build up what they had.
And despite all the years that had gone by, Sumac had kept her promise to herself, and that had to count for something more than the sales they made under the table.
This was the longest Ivy went without a jest.
Under normal circumstances, Sumac would appreciate the silence. Today of all days, she found herself longing for a sense of normalcy.
Just get through this shit. The reaping loomed over them just like the death of the mayor's brother. Sumac never thought a District of thousands would be so quiet. Every reaping, an eerie silence fell over them all, but this year felt so much quieter.
It wasn't their fault. Death fell all around Seven. Starvation, illness, and workplace injury claimed more lives than the District cared to count.
It wasn't their fault. He was bound to die anyway. It was inevitable, really. All they did was speed up the process.
Sumac pushed those thoughts from her head and buried them deep, instead turning her focus to the crowd of kids that pushed her closer to the stage.
As she checked in with the guards and meandered her way up to the front of the stage, she released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Oak's large frame blocked the sun beside her, and his caring eyes fell on her.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
Her nod in response was too quick for anyone to believe it true.
"We'll get through this." She took his hand, happy to lean on his strength in this moment. Ivy stood to her left, and Sumac's second hand ended intertwined with Ivy's.
Even in the face of death, they stood together. Even when the world threatened to pull them apart and crush them like dirt, they had each other. That was how it had always been, and Sumac didn't see a single reason for that to change.
Seconds turned to minutes, and the quiet commotion around them silenced when the mayor took the stage. Sumac couldn't hear herself think, not when she could so clearly see the anger looming behind his eyes. As he read his scripted speech, she swore those eyes met with hers more than once.
More than was likely for one man looking upon a crowd of thousands.
No matter, Sumac thought as her jaw clenched and she desperately grasped to regain control of her own breath. If he could prove it was us, we'd be arrested already.
With that on her mind, she decided not to waste fear on him any longer. Any time his eyes found hers, she would meet them as an equal. By the time his speech ended, Sumac could swear his voice was shaking.
A smirk found a place on her lips, and it lingered as the escort took his place. As peppy as ever, Cymara Virella took the stage. As far as Sumac could tell, the skirt of her dress was made of roses. White and sky blue led straight up to the simple white corset. A matching blue rose crown decorated her head, weaving between her black hair.
And after she welcomed all of Seven's citizens to the annual Hunger Games, Sumac's smirk finally dropped, and fear grabbed hold of her heart again.
Don't let it win. Her teeth hurt from clenching so much, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything except surviving the next few moments.
It turned out, even that was too much to ask, for when Sumac Dendron's name left her lips, Sumac knew it was no coincidence.
Ivy's grip on Sumac tightened, and Oak's eyes fell on her once again. Sumac pulled away from them both, her heart inflamed with a fury she'd never known before.
(She'd known anger. She'd known sadness. She'd known loss. Yet somehow she had gone her whole life without knowing helplessness.)
It was no wonder the only thing that could make her feet move was a single thought.
Who's to say I had to feel helpless now?
Head raised, she pulled away from her siblings and straight into the flames.
"No! No, Sumac, don't!" Ivy's voice pierced behind her, and Sumac whipped around. Oak's arms wrapped around their younger sister, but not quickly enough.
Ivy could barely get two syllables of a death wish out when Sumac's fist met her throat.
She didn't mean to hit so hard, but she couldn't help it. Any more time and the escort could have heard her pleading to volunteer, pleading to take her sister's place.
This is my burden to bear alone, you idiot.
The only thing keeping Ivy off the concrete ground was Oak's arms tightly wrapped around her body. Oak looked from sister to sister, and Sumac knew she had only a moment to make herself clear.
"No volunteers."
She turned back to the stage and took her place beside Cymara.
"How eager you are!" Cymara said, taking Sumac's hand.
Yes, eager. Sumac held back the urge to roll her eyes. Let's go with that.
"Who was that, may I ask? Family? Friend?"
"It doesn't matter," Sumac responded.
The less attention on them, the better.
Rage pounded in her skull, and still the mayor's eyes fell onto her. Her fists clenched, but remained by her side.
She felt powerless as Cymara chose the second name.
"Asric Fenrow!"
Most eyes fell to the back of the crowd, where a well-fed thirteen-year-old started closing the distance between himself and the stage. Sumac didn't care for the boy, not when she could see Ivy arguing with Oak.
When Oak's eyes met hers, she shook her head.
This was her battle to fight. This was her battle to win.
Alone.
Nothing was more suffocating to Sumac than being forced into something she had no desire to do.
Unfortunately, she knew that suffocation wouldn't disperse. She had seen enough of the Hunger Games to know that it would only get worse.
As long as Ivy and Oak are safe. She remained adamant about that fact and did not regret her actions at the reaping. She had been keeping them safe her entire life. This inconvenience would change nothing.
When they corralled her into the Justice Building, she immediately searched her room for a camera. Minutes passed, and although she couldn't find one, she decided to assume one was present regardless. For all she knew, the mayor had one installed specifically for the Dendron he intended to sentence.
Ivy burst into the room, tears stained her face and rolled down to the bruises forming on her neck. Sumac opened her arms, and she fell into them. Oak and their father followed behind.
"Why?" Ivy asked through a sob.
"It doesn't matter why. Hey." Sumac gently pushed Ivy back so she could see Sumac as she spoke. "None of this is your fault."
If Phil Dendron wasn't behind Ivy, Sumac would have expected Ivy to spew out additional confessions. Thankfully, none of the trio wanted to drag their dad into their mess.
They created it, and they could clean it up.
They would clean it up.
"You-you should have let me volunteer." Ivy wiped away tears, then used the same hand to shove Oak as far as she could, which wasn't very far. "You should have volunteered!"
"No! No one should go into the Games except me." Sumac's jaw tension threatened to spread to her head, and she had to remind herself to breathe.
At least they were safe. Regardless of what the next few weeks threw upon her, they would be safe from the Hunger Games for the rest of their lives. Sure, the mayor might still suspect them, but if he had proof, he would have had them all arrested already. As long as Ivy didn't do anything stupid, they would be okay.
Sumac told her as much. She told them to stay strong, stay brave, and keep Dendron's open for business.
"The recipe book is with the ingredients. Anything you're not sure of, ask Dad. There are tons of easy recipes there." She could tell her words were starting to lose grip on her sister. She reached back out to pull her back in, a pain of guilt stabbing her heart when Ivy flinched.
"I will be okay," Sumac said, her voice softer than it had ever been.
(Not because she truly believed it, but because she knew that was what they needed to hear. It was what they needed to believe to keep going. No matter what happened to her, they mattered. They deserved the life their mother gave them.)
"Can you win?" Oak asked. "Not for us, but yourself?"
"I won't go down without a fight," Sumac responded. Not a lie, but a promise she could keep. She wasn't in the business of breaking promises.
Sumac didn't know how much time she had left, but she wasn't going to waste another second on her. She pulled Oak into a hug, desperately balancing on her toes to reach her arms around his neck.
"Keep Ivy safe," she whispered. He didn't respond, but she knew he heard.
Her father, her sweet father, who couldn't stop himself from breaking out into tears when they finally hugged.
"Your mother would be so proud of you," he said. "She would tell you to win, to come back home to us."
And that alone was almost enough to break Sumac's shell.
"Will you guys be okay?" Sumac couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, sweetheart. Don't think about us. Focus on yourself."
An impossible ask. She couldn't bear to say it.
When the Peacekeepers came to collect them, Sumac thought it was still too soon. She didn't fight or argue as much as she wanted to.
Sumac held her palms out, offering her siblings one last handshake. Oak met her palm with his, and Ivy did the same. They moved through the motions, the same ones they had done for years. There was something comforting in it, something Sumac couldn't quite put into words. She looked forward to the hug, gripping them both as tightly as she could manage.
She reluctantly released the last goodbye they offered to her, and she watched all three of them leave her behind. When the door shut, it trapped her in silence.
For the first time in eighteen years, Sumac Dendron had no influence on the walls around her or the people inside them.
(She never expected it to feel so…empty.)
The train was too loud and too cramped.
Sumac hated it. She longed for the freedom of her shop, for the fresh air and the thought-provoking creations. She longed for her siblings, for something to worry about other than herself.
All of this was too unnatural. It made it too real.
(Who would make sure the garden was harvested? Who would water the plants each day? What about when it rained too much, or too little? Would they remember to restock the shelves each day?)
Sumac closed her eyes. An involuntary scoff came off her lips. She was being sent to her death, and here she was, worried about her family.
Old habits die hard.
The steel walls of the train trapped them all. It trapped Sumac and Asric. It trapped hundreds of kids before her. Even the two Victors that sat at the table with Asric were trapped, forced to lead them to the horrors they knew awaited them.
It only made Sumac angrier.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Asric looking at her from the other side of the train car. Where she sat at a single chair against one wall of the train, Asric and their two mentors sat at the table on the other side of the small railcar. Despite his young age, Sumac could see how a lifetime of access to food and healthy living had made him seem so much older.
He kept looking at her.
"What?" she asked. With no control over her tone, she shouldn't be surprised when Asric looked away from her.
Don't worry, she wanted to say. I could have said worse.
She kept that one to herself.
Seven's two mentors looked at one another, as if Sumac had said the most disrespectful thing in the world. Not that Sumac couldn't place either of their names if she tried. The girl won before she was born, and the boy won before she was three. The girl, or rather, adult woman, looked to be in her mid-thirties with greying brown hair. She wasn't very tall, at least not that Sumac could tell. The male was maybe the same age, except no signs of white in his bright red hair.
"I…know today has been hard. Why don't you both tell us a little about yourselves? We can start strategizing." The woman said, opening the floor to both tributes. Sumac let the offer expire.
"I…am really good in school," Asric eventually found the courage to say. His voice lingered on the edge of calm, of confidence. A confidence that Sumac was overly familiar with.
Ivy. Sumac pulled her attention back to the window, watching as Seven's trees continued to disappear. She was supposed to be focusing on herself, and even that proved impossible.
"Good. Do not underestimate intelligence in the arena. Brawn can only get you so far," the male Victor said. Sumac briefly wondered if she should learn their names, but decided it wouldn't matter now.
It couldn't stop both mentors and Asric from looking at her.
"I can craft," she said plainly. The two mentors looked at her expectantly. She decided to leave it at that.
Finally, the female mentor spoke up.
"Eli will be working with you, Sumac." She turned to Asric and added, "I'll be working with you. I can show you to your car."
Sumac knew that was code for we can talk in private. Not that she cared. As nice as Asric seemed, he wouldn't help her.
(Sumac ignored the fact she was already considering him to be a bloodbath death.)
Asric and his new mentor left, and Sumac expected the other mentor, Eli, to say…anything. Maybe he would ask her to sit at the table. Maybe he would move to sit across from her on the couch. He actually found a way to surprise her, though.
"I'm here to mentor you," he said. "But I'm not holding your hand. If you want my help, I'll gladly give it to you."
Sumac scoffed.
"You don't know me."
"That's true, but I've known a lot of kids like you. I've tried to help them." Eli pushed his chair away from the table. "The reaping recap will start in a few hours. Darrah and I will watch with Asric. I recommend you join."
"That's it?" Sumac said through clenched teeth.
"Yeah." Eli didn't shy away from Sumac's glare. In fact, he met and matched it. Sumac wasn't sure what to make of him yet, but she didn't think she liked him.
Maybe Darrah should've been my mentor.
Maybe I shouldn't fucking be here in the first place.
"You remind me of my brother," Eli said as he looked her up and down. Under normal circumstances, Sumac would have something to say to that. Instead, all she could think about was Oak, and how much she missed him.
The silence was only broken by Eli's next comment: "I'll be in my room until the recap. Find me if you want advice before then."
She didn't look at him as he left, for she feared what might fall off her tongue. Instead, her mind lingered with the beauty of what laid outside the glass of the train windows, the freedom she once had.
Now she had a different kind of freedom, and yet still, all she could think about was her family.
Sumac thought about staying in her room the rest of the night, but she knew when to be stubborn, and unfortunately, this was not the time.
It didn't mean she would fully cooperate. Everyone else sat on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, while Sumac meandered by the table. She sampled some fruity drinks, which she found to be a fantastic way to pass the time.
Eventually, the Capitol propaganda on screen was replaced by coverage of the reaping. Sumac pulled up a chair.
"Glad you were able to join us," Darrah said softly. Maybe she smiled at Sumac, but Sumac wasn't sure. She was too focused on her drink.
The screen faded to the Capitol seal, then was immediately replaced by District One. Two kids were reaped, and two tributes promptly volunteered.
Sumac didn't like the male. Something about the way he smiled, the way he looked down at those around him, made her want to slap the smile off his face.
Not that I should trust any of them, Sumac decided as One faded into Two, and two equally lethal killers took the stage.
Three passed by with nothing for Sumac to note, and the Fours were exactly as she expected. Six eighteen-year-old trained killers versus seventeen scared children. And then there was Sumac, somewhere in the middle. Barely a killer, and certainly not a child.
Sumac wanted to walk away when Seven was up. She didn't want to see what the Capitol thought of her; she simply didn't care. She never cared before, so why should she start now?
Because your siblings' lives are on the line.
The realization knocked the wind out of her. The Capitol was already suspicious of her, of them, that's why she was here in the first fucking place.
She didn't care what happened to her, but nothing could happen to Ivy or Oak.
(Even in death, she would not break her promise to her mother.)
She was relieved when the Capitol announcers called her a Capitol loyalist, what with her rash refusal to let Ivy volunteer. It didn't matter that the Capitol didn't know it was her sister, or had any idea of what the Dendrons had been through. Her eagerness to take the stage was seen and judged accordingly, and that was that. They've decided what she is, and she expected that one moment would follow her throughout the Games.
Maybe it could be worse. She wasn't oblivious to how quickly they overlooked Asric for District Eight. She wasn't oblivious to how Darrah whispered reassurances to him.
"It's all stupid." Eyes fell on Sumac before she realized the words left her lips.
"It may be, but everything you say and do will contribute to how far you make it in the Games," Eli said.
They don't know me. They don't deserve to know me.
She knew better than to say that out loud. The less the people around her know about her, the better.
(She could keep Ivy and Oak safe. She just had to keep the attention on her, and not her family.)
The reapings continued, and Sumac wasn't sure what to expect anymore. Somehow, that still left her surprised.
District by District, kids older than sixteen were reaped. By the time Twelve came, Sumac was convinced Asric would be the only one under sixteen.
Until a fifteen-year-old boy was reaped from Twelve.
The Capitol announcers pay him as much attention as they did Asric. In contrast, the tall eighteen-year-old girl even got the honor of a close-up shot.
Eli turned the television off. He looked at Sumac, and she finally met his eyes. Maybe he was going to call her over to join them. Maybe he was going to close the distance himself. Maybe he was truly interested in helping her.
Sumac never gave herself the chance to find out. It only took her a breath to get up from her chair and find her way to her own bedroom.
When Sumac dreamed, it was of her mother.
There were no woods to comfort her. No familiar laughter of Ivy or Oak. She was cold, but no jacket or fire could warm her.
"Mom?" Sumac called out, but her voice got lost in the darkness. She called out again, louder, r.
Quiet fell upon her.
Then Sumac saw her, she saw her mother and she tried to run towards her, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. Each step led Sumac closer to the ground, each root wrapped around her ankle and she was falling, falling, falling…
Failing and failing. What kind of sister was she?
"Mom!" Sumac cried, she cried so loud the noise bounced in her skull and she shut her eyes, desperate for relief. She was desperate.
She had become so desperate.
"Sumac…"
Her mom's voice took the pain away. The weight on Sumac lifted, and she floated. She floated into her mom's arms and she held onto her tightly.
"Mom…mom what do I do…" Sumac hiccuped as a sob escaped her chest.
"You do what you've always done. You take care of them."
Darkness dropped and Sumac saw Ivy, Oak, and their father around their house. She couldn't hear them, and they couldn't see her, but she saw them. She saw them and it melted away her fear, her sadness.
Everything she had done so far had been for them. This didn't have to be different.
"You're a strong girl, Sumac."
She was. She would be. It was in her blood. It was how she survived so long. No, she didn't just survive.
She thrived. Through blood, sweat, and tears, she thrived, and so did her family.
So the tears didn't make her weak. They made her human.