Mother Tree, Part 3

The parents came into the small tent where the priest waited. On a blanket in a corner lay the two infants, each playing with a stick. “By the Tree, I greet you.”

“By the Tree, we came.”

“Sit down, relax. I wanted to know some things about the children before–”

“Before you kill them?” The mother sobbed, finally breaking down.

“No, they will not die, at least not for a very long time. Children who are sacrificed are not killed. They are given to the Mother Tree. They will live out their lives taking care of her and her other children.”

The father looked up. “Uncle, I do not understand. Legend says the children are all killed, their blood poured onto her roots.”

“They are not killed, but yes, some blood will be spilled onto her roots. You are bound by law to never reveal this to anyone. But to hold your heads high and accept their fate. To you, they may as well be dead. You will never see them again.”

“But they will live?” The mother wiped her eyes.

“Yes. I have some questions for you both, but I have some that are important right now. As you can see, I am an old man. There are no other priests but me. I am uncertain as to how to care for two children at once.” He raised his hand to stop the mother from speaking. “Do not tell me their names or how to tell them apart. That is information I do not need to know.”

“They are good girls. The one is the more dominant and demanding. The other is quieter and rarely cries. The one will get angry if she hears her smaller sibling crying. They take turns, waiting while one gets the attention. But sometimes they can be quite frustrating.”

“It is the way of twins, especially identical ones.” The priest nodded.

“How will you take care of two children? They cannot crawl yet, but when they do…”

“They will be everywhere, I know. Do either of them have any physical problems?”

“The smallest seems to have a weakness in her legs. They move, but she does not kick as strong. She also becomes ill easier.”

#

The old priest lit the candles and leaned back against the middle pole of the tent. He looked over where the two children lay in the baskets that were slightly standing up so he could see their faces. They stared at the candles.

“Good, children. Now, let’s go speak to the Holy Mother.” He closed his eyes and listened to his breathing. He extended his senses to listen for the breathing and heart beat of his two new charges. He extended it further, feeling the collective sleep of the villagers around him. Five young men were awake, wandering the perimeter in case some wild animal found their way too close. Then he came to the Tree herself. He could sense her breathing through her branches. He could feel her heartbeat as the sap flowed.

He could also sense her laughter. She thought this was funny! The priest tried his best to glare at her but her good mood effected him too. The great owl flew down to land near him. His mouth opened, but the voice of the Mother Tree came out. “Sleep, my child. Dream.”

The priest shook himself, his mind back with his body in the tent. He looked over at the two children. The larger one was asleep but the smaller was staring at him. He smiled at her.