Dawn Walker

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Bat Bat spoke again quickly, softer this time. There was reassurance in it, and excitement too, but both were being held down under something steadier than usual. Sekhmet had heard many versions of Bat Bat’s voice by now. He knew her boasting voice, her offended voice, her hungry voice, and her theatrical voice. This one was different. It was the voice she used only when something small trusted her completely and she knew she could not afford to turn that trust into nonsense.

Leaf listened from Bat Bat’s hands, then turned her tiny head toward the little green patch. Her eyes lingered there for a moment. After that, she looked at Auri. Then, at last, she looked back at Sekhmet.

Sekhmet asked quietly, "What is she saying?"

Bat Bat did not answer immediately. She was listening, not merely hearing. Her head tilted slightly, and her expression changed with each of Leaf’s soft little sounds and flashes of green emotion. The tiny spirit was not speaking in words, but Bat Bat followed the shape of it as if she had been born into that language herself.

Then Bat Bat said, "She wants to know if it will hurt."

That was a better question than many adults asked before power.

Sekhmet considered the answer for only a breath before giving the only honest one.

"Yes."

Bat Bat looked at him, then translated at once. The sounds she made to Leaf were quick and soft, with little pauses between them, almost like she was trying to cushion the meaning without changing it.

Leaf made a small distressed sound and lowered herself slightly in Bat Bat’s palms. The green-gold light around her body flickered once, then twice. It did not go out, but it thinned in a way that made her look suddenly younger and smaller than before.

Bat Bat answered immediately in that strange little shared language. She said more this time. A great deal more. Quick sounds. Reassuring gestures. Tiny head tilts. Once she pressed her hand lightly to her own chest. Twice she pointed at herself. Then she pointed toward Auri. Then toward the wider darkness beyond the green patch. Then back to Leaf, as if she was building a little map of safety around the fear.

Leaf listened.

Then she looked at Sekhmet again.

The little spirit’s light had not gone out. It had changed. There was less play in it now. Less idle brightness. More thought.

Sekhmet asked, "What now?"

Bat Bat swallowed once.

"She wants to know if she will become stronger."

"Yes."

Bat Bat translated.

Leaf’s wings, small and delicate and shaped like something halfway between leaves and spirit-light, quivered faintly.

Bat Bat listened again. "She wants to know if she can help more."

Sekhmet answered that without hesitation. "Yes."

Bat Bat told her.

This time Leaf’s light brightened slightly. Not enough to erase the fear, but enough to push against it. Her tiny hands tightened on one of Bat Bat’s fingers. She made another series of little sounds, quicker now, and Bat Bat’s eyes widened.

Then Bat Bat looked up at Sekhmet with open excitement all over her face.

"She wants to know if she can fight beside me."

Of course she did.

Sekhmet thought back to what he had already told Bat Bat earlier in the room, when the plan had first begun to take shape in his mind.

"Yes."

Bat Bat nearly beamed as she translated it.

Leaf’s glow brightened more strongly this time. She made a high, tiny trill that would have sounded almost like laughter if it had come from anything larger.

Then Bat Bat laughed once herself, sudden and delighted. "She also wants to know if she can drink blood with me."

Auri actually turned her face away for a second.

Not because she disapproved.

Because even she was not prepared for Leaf to arrive at that question so quickly.

Sekhmet, however, had already expected something close to it. Power, to small creatures, always became real through the things they already understood. To Leaf, that meant Bat Bat. If Bat Bat flew, Leaf wanted to fly. If Bat Bat fought, Leaf wanted to fight. If Bat Bat drank blood, then blood became part of what strength looked like.

"Yes," he said.

Bat Bat translated that too.

Leaf made a tiny, sharp trill of joy and spun once in Bat Bat’s hands so fast she nearly slipped free. Bat Bat caught her at once and laughed again, more softly this time, careful not to shake her.

Then the laughter faded.

Leaf was speaking again. It was longer now. More steadily.

Bat Bat listened with complete focus. Once, she nodded to herself without realizing she was doing it. Then she asked two short little clicking questions back, waited, and finally looked up.

"She is scared," Bat Bat said. "But she wants it."

Sekhmet looked at Leaf.

The tiny forest spirit looked back at him, six to eight inches of green-gold light and trembling courage in Bat Bat’s hands. She was afraid. He could see that even without translation. Fear lived in the way her glow tightened close to her body and in the slight tremor of her wings. But she did not hide from the possibility. She did not turn away from it either.

That mattered a great deal.

Sekhmet asked, "What else?"

Bat Bat’s face softened in a way it almost never did.

"She wants to know if I will stay with her."

That settled the whole thing. This was trust.

Leaf would step into pain and change if Bat Bat stayed with her.

Sekhmet looked at Bat Bat.

She was already looking down at Leaf with something fierce and protective in her face, something that belonged more properly to queens than to children, though Bat Bat still managed to be both at once. She looked almost offended by the question, not because Leaf had asked it, but because the answer should have been obvious.

"She will," Sekhmet said.

Bat Bat lifted her head sharply toward him.

For a second, something flashed across her face too quickly for easy naming. Relief, perhaps. Or gratitude. Or maybe only the strange sharp happiness that came when someone else spoke aloud a truth one had already chosen.

Then, with no hesitation at all, she answered Leaf in that strange little language they shared. Her voice became warm, certain, almost solemn. She said more than before, and slower too, as if she wanted every little sound to land exactly where it needed to.

Leaf listened. Her glow dimmed once, then steadied. She was not fully relaxed. But she had decided.

Bat Bat looked at Sekhmet, and this time the answer in her face came before the answer in her mouth.

"Yes," she said.

Then Bat Bat looked back down at Leaf and repeated it to her more gently, and the tiny spirit answered by climbing up Bat Bat’s wrist and pressing herself against her shoulder as if the choice had already become real the moment it was promised.

Auri watched the two of them for a few quiet breaths. Then she asked, "What exactly did you tell her?"

Bat Bat glanced toward her. "That she will not be alone."

That answer held more weight than the void land should have been able to contain.

Even Auri did not answer immediately.

Sekhmet let the silence stand for a moment before speaking again.

"Tell her one more thing."

Bat Bat looked at him. "What?"

"That if she accepts, I will not force it today."

Bat Bat blinked. "Not today."

"No. I want her to understand the choice first. Tell her to think about it for a day."

That changed Leaf’s body language at once, even before Bat Bat translated it. The tiny spirit had been bracing herself in the small unconscious way of things expecting pain to arrive quickly once agreed to. When Bat Bat relayed the meaning, Leaf’s light loosened visibly. Her wings relaxed. The little tremor in her form softened.

Perhaps more than anything else, that confirmed he had made the right decision.

If he had tried to do it immediately, the fear might have outweighed the trust.

Bat Bat translated the new message carefully. Leaf listened, then made a quieter, softer little series of sounds that lasted much longer than her earlier reactions.

Bat Bat smiled while listening.

"She says she wants to think near the green first."

Sekhmet nodded once. "That is fine."

Bat Bat translated again.

Leaf gave a tiny, decisive nod of her own and then left Bat Bat’s shoulder just long enough to hover in front of Sekhmet. For one moment she stayed there, her little face serious in that way only very small creatures and very old creatures could manage properly. Then she placed both tiny hands against the air toward him and sent out a warm pulse of green-gold light.

It was a thank you. It was not spoken but felt.

Sekhmet held still and let it touch him.

Then Leaf turned and darted back toward Bat Bat, landing on her shoulder once more as if that place had already become her chosen ground.

Bat Bat looked absurdly proud of this development.

Of course she did.

"She likes me best," Bat Bat informed the room.

Auri replied, "That is obvious. We all know it."

Bat Bat looked smug enough to be unbearable. "I accept this truth."

Sekhmet ignored them both and stood.

The conversation had given him what he needed.

Leaf was afraid.

Leaf was curious.

Leaf wanted strength.

Leaf wanted to help more.

And most importantly, Leaf would accept only if Bat Bat stood with her through all of it.

That part was settled now.

He looked at Bat Bat one more time. "You stay with her."

"Yes."

"You tell me the moment her answer changes."

That made Bat Bat pause, but only because she took it seriously. Then she nodded. "Yes, Master."

Sekhmet turned toward the wider darkness of the Void Land and the tiny green patch that now seemed less like an accident and more like the beginning of an argument against death.

Two boxes of seeds.

Leaf.

Bat Bat.

A path forward.

That was better... Much better.

Behind him, Bat Bat had already lowered her voice again and begun talking quietly to Leaf about something, the little spirit answering in flickers and soft sounds while dawn in the real world continued brightening somewhere beyond the walls of his room and beyond the hidden dark sky of the Void Land.

He let them continue.

There would be time enough later to decide the method. For now, trust has been secured. And in some things, that mattered more than power itself.