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Before she even reaches her 200th day on Earth Zam thinks she’s experienced just about every wonderful thing this planet has to offer. She gets to spend her days surrounded by friends, something she never had on Mars, running through the academy filled with the promise of being special. Of being something more than what she was previously.
Even still, it feels like something is missing. A constant thrum that demands more and more, no matter if she fills it with cooking or mining or magic practice. It gets the loudest when she’s alone, quietest around Graecie, but mostly lingers like an itch she can’t scratch. Maybe if she just needs to learn more, discover one more wonderful thing, the shepherdess.
Her day starts normal enough, routine falling into place despite only being at the academy for a few weeks and ending the way it usually does. Graecie and Zam tearing through the academy’s halls, running off nothing but adrenaline and the kinetic energy thrumming between them. The rest of their group (a thrill still shoots down Zam’s spine every time she remembers she has friends, a group) having already split off, leaving just Zam and Graecie behind. Exactly as the world has always wanted for them. Her face still hurts from smiling too much, her stomach from laughing, and Zam kind of hopes that ache will never go away.
Ahead of her, quiet “hop hop” s stop as Graecie suddenly spins on her heel to face Zam. Her bells jingle at the motion and Zam can’t help the smile that spreads across her face in response.
“Where are you going after this Zam?”
“Um,” Zam starts and stops herself. This is her least favorite part of the day, when the adventures end and she’s forced to trudge back to Lupi alone. It’s a reminder that every day could be the last, her friends could wake up one morning and realize she’s too strange to be around. Too strange for Earth.
“I don’t know, um. I just, kinda don’t want to be alone, yeah.” Is what she eventually says because she’s trying to be more honest with Graecie.
“Oh,” Graecie says in her soft voice, the one Zam can’t quite figure out. “Well, if you don’t want to be alone you could come with me to my dorm? I was just going to pray and go to sleep but maybe you’d like that too?”
Zam nods so hard that even after stopping the reverberations of movement cause her antenna to bounce. Graecie giggles a little at her enthusiasm which makes Zam giggle in turn and it feels like the world gets three times brighter.
“Yes, thank you, um I would appreciate that a lot.”
“Oh, blessed bells!” Graecie cries. She rings her bells and hops a step or two away before returning, close enough that Zam can make out each individual freckle. “This is going to be so wonderful! I’ve never had anyone stay over, unless you count Avid, but his room is literally connected to mine, and it’s been so long since I got to lead prayer.”
“I’m excited too.” Zam says just to watch Graecie’s smile widen and her eyes get full and bright. “Blessed bells.”
She’s just barely gotten the words out before Graecie’s grabbing her hand to start tugging them towards Feles. It’s a little silly when they both know Zam’s the better navigator, but she can feel the warmth of Graecie’s hand bleeding through her spacesuit so there’s no reason to mention it. Besides, Zam would gladly follow Graecie anywhere.
Their otherwise silent trek is punctuated by Graecie humming an unidentifiable tune under her breath, one that Zam is desperate to know. The only thing stopping her from asking, even as the need grows, is the possibility of Graecie letting go of her hand. She’d rather not take the chance. Zam thinks her entire hand must be coated in sweat by the time they make it to Graecie’s dorm, but she still doesn’t want to let go.
“We’re here!” Graecie announces as they stop in front of her door. She doesn’t let go of Zam’s hand, her grip tightening if anything, forced to use her free hand to open the door instead.
Before properly entering Zam closes her eyes, letting the mana veil wash over her. When she opens them again, she’s greeted with the familiar sight of Graecie’s dorm and filled with a feeling she can’t quite place.
“Ta-da!” Graecie cheers as if Zam hasn’t been there a thousand times over. As if half her chests aren’t filled with items collected by Zam. As if there isn’t a barrel under the floorboards with her spear in it. As if the floor hasn’t stopped shifting under Zam’s weight anymore because it knows her.
As if.
She still claps like she’s experiencing something new and exciting because she’ll always take the opportunity to look around Graecie’s dorm.
Even after decorating her room is mostly empty. Barrels and flowerbeds and vases are the only pieces of furniture besides her bed, but Zam loves it anyway. She used to think it was counter to Graecie’s personality, to the infectious bursting energy she brings everywhere she goes, but now she thinks it’s perfectly Graecie. Her room is only filled with things that matter, each item a gift proudly on display. Zam thinks you could trace every friend Graecie’s made through her room alone. Which makes it all the more special when she notices her own flowers planted right next to Graecie’s headboard.
Pulling Zam out of her head, reminding her that she’s here for a reason, is Graecie’s voice. “Did you want to pray with me? Or just stay over?”
She looks at Zam so unexpectingly, so kind and patient that Zam already knows her answer before she says it. “Um, yeah. I’d like that.”
“Oh, blessed bells!” Graecie drops her hand then, hopping further into her room and Zam follows without even thinking. “I have my altar on the windowsill, so we’ll have to use the squishy table to get up to it, is that okay?”
Zam doesn’t know what the typical space for an altar is or how to get to one without a squishy table, so she doesn’t question it. “Um, yeah. That’s fine.”
Briefly, Graecie grabs her hand again to give it a squeeze before clambering onto her bed. Zam does the same, spacesuit leaving indents in Graecie’s bedding. There isn’t enough room for both of them, so they end up pressed together. Their usual arrangement in the grand scheme of things.
“Have you seen my altar before?” Graecie asks, gesturing to her collection of candles on the windowsill. “I pray here every night to the shepherdess and she helps guide me.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Something electric happens when Graecie lowers her arm back in between them. There’s nothing new about being arm to arm, leg to leg, and knees only a hair’s breadth away but it still feels like unexplored territory. Something about being here, in Graecie’s room about to face the shepherdess, makes it feel different. The air feels more vibrant, everything supercharged and full of possibility; like how Zam felt when she first landed on Earth.
She can feel her glowy part speed up and hopes she isn’t about to start blushing too.
All too often, including now, it feels as though there’s an invisible force pulling her towards Graecie. She doesn’t know much about magnetism, but it must be something similar linking the two of them. Or maybe it’s the familiar force of gravity pulling everyone, Zam included, into Graecie’s orbit. The shining sun and its loyal planet.
Whatever force it is, it’s existed since their first meeting and Zam has no intention of ever escaping.
Eventually, the electric feeling fades into something more manageable. Another pulse in the ever-present current between them as Zam regains her focus.
“So, um, how do you do this?” She’s still not the best with Earth customs but desperately wants to get this right, for Graecie.
“Well, when we introduce new people to the flock, we have them memorize the same prayer. So, I’ll say that one and you’ll repeat it, is that okay?”
Zam nods and Graecie settles further into the bed, lifting her knees and readjusting them. Their elbows are almost touching and, somehow, it’s more exhilarating than the places where they’re joined. She looks at Zam expectingly then and Zam kind of feels like a butterfly from the garden game, caught in a net she doesn’t actually want to leave.
“I-I’ve never prayed before,” Zam admits. “Is there something you’re supposed to do?”
“That’s okay.” Graecie says kind and patient as always. “Here, copy me and close your eyes.”
Graecie turns towards the windows, wrapping her hands around her prayer beads and lifting her head up ever so slightly. She sinks into the motion like it’s the most natural thing in the world while Zam alternates between closing her eyes and sneaking peeks to mimic Graecie’s. She hates how obvious her movements are against the bed, her presence suddenly too loud and her body too large and everything about her wrong in some nebulous and undefinable way.
Her thoughts dissipate almost immediately when Graecie speaks up again. “Are you ready?”
Zam nods at first, forgetting that Graecie’s eyes are still closed, before correcting herself. “Yeah.”
“You just have to repeat after me, okay?”
Zam peeks out the corner of her eyes again just to see Graecie still looking out the window into the slowly setting sun. She slams her eyes shut, right before the filtered light makes her too distracting to look at.
“Okay.”
“Oh shepherdess,” Graecie says and the first thing Zam notices is how quiet Graecie’s voice gets when she’s praying.
It’s the same kind of quiet Graecie gets when she sees a wolf or uses her abilities; all quiet and reverent and filled with something more. Zam thinks, vaguely, it’s not far off from the voice Graecie uses with her sometimes, usually when they’re huddled together and the universe shrinks in kind. She doesn’t know what to do with that thought though, so she moves on.
“Oh shepherdess,” Zam tries to fill her words with a similar tone, fill in the blanks Graecie has left for her.
“Grant me strength to guide those along the path.”
“Grant me strength to guide those along the path.”
A practice in call and response.
“And give me guidance to bring light to those who need it.”
“And give me guidance to bring light to those who need it.”
Right as the final words leave her mouth Zam starts worrying, hands looking to fidget and thoughts kicking into high gear. She thinks, based on everything Graecie’s said, that she’s meant to be feeling something. Instead, when she checks inside herself, she doesn’t find anything new. There’s just the typical low-buzz of her spacesuit’s power bank, the magic in her not-blood, and the always-there awareness of Graecie’s body in relation to hers.
She desperately hopes she hasn’t messed up the prayer, that Graecie will still want her even if the shepherdess doesn’t.
Giggling fills the space between them. “You can open your eyes now.”
She opens them, unquestioningly, barely even aware they were still closed, only to be greeted with Graecie’s face hovering right in front of hers. They’re so close that, if Zam needed oxygen, they could be sharing a single breath. Graecie’s eyes are wide and curious, remnants of laughter still fading and Zam sort of wishes they didn’t need to close their eyes to pray, that they could stay like this forever.
Graecie speaks again and it’s like Zam is under the effects of celestial lock, kept in place by an unseen embrace. “Can you feel the shepherdess?”
She can’t lie, especially not to Graecie, so before she thinks words are already leaving her mouth. “No, um, not really.”
The stupidity hits her after, glowy part already speeding up. Graecie’s going to throw her out over this, she’s sure, shunning her just as the shepherdess has.
Instead, Graecie grins slightly and leans in closer. Her hair untucks from behind her ear, surrounding them in a curtain of white. It might as well be its own mana veil for how quiet everything gets. Zam is suddenly hyperaware of the space, or lack thereof, between them as her antenna twitch once, twice. Lavender wafts off Graecie, the same scent she’s carried since their picnic, and Zam’s close enough to see the small charms that dangle from her hearing aid.
The air feels charged again, the room holding its breath and ducking its head to listen in on their conversation.
“Don’t worry, not everyone feels it at first.” Graecie whispers like it’s a wonderful secret. There’s a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, like when she’s about to tell Zam something that’ll make her laugh, which is how Zam knows everything will be okay.
“Really?” It seems too good to be true.
“Mhm!”
“Did you?” She asks because she can’t imagine a Graecie without the shepherdess. “Um, feel her the first time?”
Zam knows it’s the right question when Graecie breaks into a full grin and turns back towards the window. Her hair ghosts over Zam’s antenna, sending tiny pinpricks of almost magic throughout her entire body. The light outside is a little dimmer now, sun still making its way across the sky, fully bathing Graecie in golden hues. There’s no way it’s the same sunlight she sees on Mars; no one on Mars has ever looked half as pretty.
“I’ve always felt her and, blessed bells, it’s the most wonderous feeling in the world,” Graecie glances back at Zam. “Not that you’re doing anything wrong! I’m just her chosen one. It’s why my hair’s white; I was made to be part of her flock and bring others into her embrace.”
Belonging sounds nice. She wishes her own belonging was as sure as Graecie’s, that it was just as visible and bright.
“If I’m,” Zam glances down, half-formed thought almost too revealing. “Um, if I’m different, can I still be part of her flock?”
Graecie gasps and brings her head down to look Zam in the eyes.
“Yes, of course you can be part of her flock! The shepherdess welcomes everyone, no matter how different they might be. Besides, I’ve told the shepherdess all about you; you’re practically already part of her flock.”
Something warm and tingly worms its way back into Zam’s body. She knows this already, but she doesn’t know how to react, still getting used to people thinking about her at all.
“Oh, that sounds nice. Thank you, um, for telling her about me.”
“Always,” Graecie says like it’s the easiest and most obvious thing in the universe. “I tell the shepherdess everything. Besides, I want to thank her for guiding me to you, to everyone really. I’ve met so many kind people since coming to the academy and it’s all because of her.”
Zam can’t help but nod along. She’s met the kindest people since coming to the academy, even without counting Graecie. Maybe she has the shepherdess to thank for that too, for leading her off Mars and Graecie out of her valley.
“Is-is that what you usually pray about then?”
“Yes, I thank her for blessing my day, my friends, every wonderful thing she’s given me.”
“Maybe that will work better,” Zam starts. “Um, in making me feel closer to her, if I had something to think about.”
“Oh! You’re so smart Zam,” Graecie drags her name out the same way she does when seeing something pretty, something precious. “Would it help if I described her to you? Then you’d know what to think about.”
“Yes, I think that would help.”
“Okay, oh blessed bells I love talking about the shepherdess!” She rings her bells again, three times exactly, and Zam doesn’t realize she’s moved closer until their faces are almost touching again. She wants to absorb whatever Graecie has to say, even more than usual, if it means she’ll get closer to her goddess. “She’s so kind, she loves everyone and makes sure they never wander far from her path. She watches over everyone, keeps them safe, and guides them to where they need to go.”
And when Zam thinks of kind people and guiding hands the only person that comes to mind is Graecie. Which means it isn’t too surprising when she blurts out, “kind of like what you do?”
Graecie laughs and Zam fights her instinctual need to hide, memories of circus tents and performances bursting forth, because she knows this laugh is kind. It’s not Graecie’s usual infectious giggle but the way she laughs when confronted with something too wonderous for words. A laugh Zam is always proud of herself for inspiring.
“Oh no, I could never do what the shepherdess does. All I can do is follow her path and lead others to her so she can properly guide them.”
“Well, um,” there’s a bubbly sensation in her chest that feels ever so slightly wrong. “I think you’re doing a great job.”
“Thank you,” Graecie shifts forward to pet Zam’s head. “You’re so kind.”
Zam ducks her head, suddenly shy again. All it does is move her closer to Graecie, if such a thing were possible. Hands ghost over her antenna, again, and she can feel it reverberate out into every one of her limbs before settling somewhere deeper and unknown.
She shivers, it feels like being somewhere she’s not meant to be. She hopes Graecie does it again.
“Um, I want to try praying again. Now that I know what to think about.”
“Okay! Do you still want to repeat after me?”
Graecie still hasn’t moved her hand away, so when Zam nods the same thing happens, she doesn’t mind it though. She wonders if Graecie can feel it too, if that’s why she’s always gravitating to the same spot.
They shift back into position again, even if Zam wishes she didn’t have to turn away from Graecie or close her eyes. Graecie recites her prayer and Zam tries to let the words wash over her, closing her hands and eyes tight enough that it borders on hurting. She wants to feel something so badly it’s like a physical ache in her chest, for Graecie if not herself.
She listens to Graecie and thinks of bells and religion and belonging and tries to conjure the image of someone kind and comforting enough to be the shepherdess.
All she can think about is Graecie leading her to the lavender field for the first time. The guiding sound of bells whenever she lags behind the group. A smile so big and blinding that it makes her worries disappear. Not-magic that feels like the warmest hug gently pulling her closer. Graecie hugs that feel the exact same. Bathroom tile cold enough to be felt through a spacesuit made bearable by comforting touch.
The Shepherdess, Zam thinks with clarity that surprises herself. What she’s imagining is The Shepherdess working through Graecie, an already bright light beaming through a prism and refracting into a million brilliant shining colors.
Religion makes sense that way, when she puts it in terms of Graecie.
When Graecie stops speaking and Zam stops repeating she opens her eyes to see Graecie already looking at her. “Do you feel it now?”
It feels tingly, like when Zam first awakened or when Graecie casts her magic, the world slotting into its proper place. Each star in position, planet orbiting sun. Right as all things should be.
“Yeah,” Zam breaths out. She thinks she sounds like Graecie does when she prays or, at least, she hopes she does.
Any doubts she had about the truthfulness of that feeling disappear when Graecie smiles wider than Zam has ever seen and pulls her into a hug that Zam would choose over Mars any day.
“You are so so special,” Graecie whispers and it’s almost like a prayer. “And now The Shepherdess knows it too.”
Zam closes her eyes again, focusing on the embrace of familiar arms, and thanks The Shepherdess for leading her to Graecie.
-★🕭★-
That night Zam sleeps in a room that isn’t her own for the first time since coming to the academy. For the first time in her entire lifespan. She sleeps in Graecie’s room on a bed placed just for her, in front of a window bleeding moonlight and starlight, and nothing has ever felt more like home.
Zam doesn’t normally dream but that night she does.
She dreams of the sounds of bells and starlight and radiance surrounding her, carving a safe path through the thickest woods she’s ever seen. The path leads her straight to The Shepherdess. Or a hazy figure whose pure white radiance is interrupted only by a splash of red directly where a neck might be which must be The Shepherdess.
Zam doesn’t know who else it could be.
Her arms are outstretched, more inviting than the softest bed or coziest meal, and Zam doesn’t hesitate before reaching out and folding herself into the embrace. She hugs The Shepherdess and smells lavender and hears laughter bouncing off academy walls and feet that never still and bells always rung three times exactly and everything she never got on Mars and everything she loves about Earth all wrapped in one.
Zam dreams of The Shepherdess and wakes up feeling electric and tingly all over. She thinks, more certain than she’s been of anything else in her life, this is what believing feels like.
It must.