Walking the Tree Read Online Free Page A

when collecting spiders, or wood from that place. She still told the children to beware, that ghosts could watch at any time and who knew what it was they wanted?
      She rolled skeins of web around her fists. "Sorry, Madame," she said. The spider was as large as her kneecap. High in the next web a spider the size of her head, legs as fat as her fingers, watched her.
      "Sorry, Madame Spider," Lillah said. "You can spin some more." While she kept her tone light, Lillah knew she would scream if the spider landed on her. She didn't mind picking them up; she was in control that way. She loved the strength and intelligence of spiders and could watch, fascinated, for hours as they span their webs.
      Her favourite spider legend was an old one. It was etched into the Tree so long ago those markings were long since disappeared up the Trunk of the Tree, but which was told so often, most people knew it by heart.
     
There was once a teacher who, tired of the noise of children, the chatter of the other teachers, went walking amongst the roots of the Tree. She was blessed as she walked because a massive Trunk fell and anchored her to the ground.
       She called out for help until her throat was too dry to speak. She wanted to cry but knew she shouldn't waste the water.
       Realising no one had missed her, or not trusting them to find her, she knew she had to throw the Tree Limb off herself. She managed to break a branch off, fit it under the large Limb and lever the Limb off her leg. Ignoring the excruciating pain, she twisted her leg free.
       Once she dropped her lever, she collapsed. Blood poured from the huge gash in her thigh and she felt weak and very, very tired. She closed her eyes for second, then felt, above the pain, a tickle on her leg. Opening her eyes she saw an enormous spider.
       She didn't scream. Something about the purposefulness of the spider calmed her.
       The spider walked back and forth across the wound many hundreds of times, sometimes being washed off by the flow of blood. But the flow lessened as the web thickened and eventually stopped.
     
    Lillah, her arms full of webs, ran back to the house.
      Magnolia was even paler, and there was a smell of vomit in the air.
      "Here," Lillah said. Pittos threw back the covers and Lillah saw for the first time just how damaged Magnolia appeared to be.
      Pittos unwound the webs from Lillah's wrists and thrust them up between Magnolia's legs.
      "There were twenty-two people in here," Magnolia said. "How did they all fit?" Then she closed her eyes, still holding her baby.
      "The baby will be fine," Logan said. "I won't take my eyes off him." Magnolia let go of her child but stared unblinking at him.
      "More webs," the Birthman said.
      Lillah did three more trips, each further afield. She knew where the spiders were because she studied them, loved them.
      Myrist took the placenta and carefully sliced it with his stone knife. Lillah and Logan took part of it and buried it in the roots of the Tree, while Myrist cooked the rest in tiny dice with onions.
      "Don't cook all the goodness out," Pittos called.
      "I think I would know that, since my own wife came to this Order with the tradition," Myrist said quietly, winking at Lillah.
      He took the plate to Magnolia, resting it on her knees and feeding her piece by piece.
      Logan stroked Magnolia's brow, kneeling on the bed beside her. He did not put any weight on her legs. Lillah watched him and thought him brave for not complaining. She could see blood soaking his pants where he knelt.
      Lillah wanted to sit down and close her eyes. She knew her tiredness was nothing like that of Magnolia's, or Logan's, or Myrist's, or Pittos', but it was tiredness enough. She could not rest, though. She needed to return to the fathers, report back, give them the information they were waiting for. She didn't see how she could interview; in her exhaustion she would forget about her teacher face