Today, you will meet all the other clans. How fun will that be?
Maybe its just the Wreck-It Ralph buzz, but Sage (who you will meet momentarily and will be important later on) is voiced by Sarah Silverman. The match is just really kinda perfect. I don't know too much about everyone else; but this one is most excellent.
Also, there is an amendment to be made. I have no idea where I got the number 23 in the last chapter. It will be fixed momentarily. That number is entirely too big. Disregard it, and replaced it with 12 in your heads, yes?
A final note, we officially have the makings of a continuation: Beneficial. This will commence, oh... In April? XD
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Reunited, We Stand
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8 wasn't sure what was going on downstairs in the common spaces; but he sure heard a lot of commotion. However, after what had happened last night, he wasn't leaving the watchtower. How that monster had managed to slither past him was unimaginable, and it made him feel terrible. Maybe he shouldn't have sent 9 to bed, after all. He could have used an extra pair of sharp eyes. And 9 wouldn't have let that danger slip so easily under his radar.
Now his niece was missing, in mortal danger, and his brothers and sister had run to her rescue. He still wasn't sure if he should be concerned about Pi, also taken in the night. The others seemed willing to be concerned. And he supposed, if everything worked out, she would be, like, his sister-in-law or something. That should have given him the willies... But as he strained to think about this, in the long and dark hours of waiting, he found that it didn't. He wasn't sure what he felt about it.
He had long abandoned trying to think seriously about anything, and returned his energy to focusing on the courtyard. If anything so much as moved out there, he would see it. And if it wasn't his family, it would find a projectile lodged squarely in its face.
A few hours ago, the day had dawned with a flash of green that filled 8 with a feeling of nostalgia. It was still almost painfully familiar. Somewhere, life had been dragged back into the mortal plane. That boded very well-he decided that his brother must have succeeded in doing something. He hoped that Dixie was okay...
But he still wasn't leaving the tower. Not until he saw with his own eyes that they returned.
It was just past noon when he saw someone dash off the street and right into the courtyard. And his fury boiled quickly to the surface at seeing it was not one of his own. He didn't know who it was or who it could be. He reached for the alarm bell, riged to go off with a tug of a thick cord, and clanged it loudly several times. Now everyone would know that there was a stranger on the grounds. Not bothering to wait for an answer, he grabbed a long bow from his arsenal and loaded it.
He wished 5 hadn't taken the crossbow. Those didn't require as much effort to use, and his own aim wasn't that great. But it was the best he could do in this moment, from the distance. As it was, the stranger in the courtyard had also heard the alarm and halted, looking all around for the source of the noise. All the easier to aim for.
But while he worked a little too hard to aim straight, two figures darted out of the library towards the stranger. He immediately recognized 1 and 2, and lowered his bow a little; not much, they might still need a defense. He impatiently watched as the two men stopped to speak to the stranger, who had doubled over and was breathing hard. After a brief moment in conversation, they hurriedly helped the stranger to the entrance.
Wondering what danger they might be letting into their home this time, 8 grumbled in his throat. Abandoning the bow and taking up his favorite sword, he lumbered to the elevator.
When he arrived in the common room, he found what was left of the clan gathered. The stranger-a pale blue woman almost as big as himself-sat sprawled out on the sofa, still panting for air. She looked like she had just ran a marathon. Now that they were all present, 2 called their attention.
"Everyone," he said slowly, "this is Iyar, of the third clan. She's brought us some news."
Iyar raised a heavy hand, waved quickly and spastically at them all, and let her hand flop back down on the sofa. Clearly, she was exhausted.
"What news?" 3 asked right away. "Are mom and dad and everyone okay?"
Iyar straightened herself a bit and took a deep breath to speak.
"They're fine," she said, gasping between her short sentences. "They're alive. With us. They did it. We're free."
"All of them?" 1 clarified. "All of them made it back?"
Iyar nodded, triumphant in spite of her fatigue. "And then some."
The whole clan gave a unanimous sigh of relief.
"They got Pi back as well?" 4 asked hopefully.
"And more," Iyar agreed, finally finding the breath to speak clearer. "They got back my brother. And my sister. And everyone else he had ever taken. They destroyed him. That monster can never hurt us again."
6 giggled happily. "I know. I told them that," he said helpfully.
Iyar gave him a benevolent smile. "I don't doubt that, kid. My own brother went with them, you know." With a more thoughtful face she continued, "The children of Israel were once Yahweh's chosen people. I suppose our race is His chosen, now."
At the mention of this Yahweh, 6's googley eyes went wide. "Oh. You know Him," he said in quiet reverence.
No one else understood what that was supposed to mean. "Where is our family now?" 2 asked, changing the subject.
"With my clan. Sleeping. They'll return tomorrow; they're all very tired and need their rest. That 9 of yours is something else, I tell you. And that 5, too-he's a hero, with everything he's done for that girl. When everyone else gave up on her, he never did. If that isn't a hero, I don't know what is. You're a lucky clan to have them."
That was comforting to hear. After all they had been through, 8 was happy his brothers had succeeded so thoroughly. And he was happy that other people could see it. For the first time, it occurred to him that he was very proud of them. He was even proud of 5. He didn't know that was possible.
"There's more," Iyar added. "There is to be a gathering, a week from today, and all the clans have to be there."
Several excited glances went across the room, but 1 suddenly looked very nervous.
"...All of us?" He asked.
"Sure. We're all alive again. And we haven't seen each other in almost two years, 'crept by accident. This is the most I've seen of another clan in a long time! We've got to regroup, now that all the unpleasantness is behind us." With a grin she remarked, "I even understand there's to be a wedding or something."
2's eyes were wide, now. "A what?"
"Don't quote me on that, mind you," she insisted, throwing up her hands to stop him. "I don't know too much about it, I only heard a whisper from Adar, my brother. He knows something... Anywho, 5 had hung around with the first clan to talk about something when they others left; they got back a few hours before he did. As soon as he got back, my dad sent me off to you guys 'bout all this. A lot of crazy stuff happened last night. I don't know the details, and don't know if I want to.
"Suffice it to say:" she said, counting off in her fingers, "your family's alright, and so's the baby; everyone who was dead is alive again, but don't bother asking me how; there's a gathering a week from today, and y'all have to be there; and then something about a wedding, I think-but again, don't quite me on that.
"And... I think that's just about everything. I ran all the way here, as fast as I could to tell you."
She suddenly turned her head and looked up at 8, noticing him for the first time, and gave him a smile. "Well, if you're not a tall drink of water. When'd you get here, big guy?"
"Uh..." 8 hurried to hide his sword behind his back, but it was a little late. Iyar noticed it anyway and laughed shortly, but didn't say anything about it. He was grateful for that; he certainly didn't mean her any harm, now.
"Do you mind if I sit for a while?" She asked, mostly to 1 and 2. "I'm pretty tired, you can imagine. I didn't even sleep last night, not after my brother left."
"Of course," 2 agreed at once. "Take all the time you need, young lady. Thank for coming so quickly."
"No problem," she answered with a casual salute. "You'da done the some for us, yeah?"
"We didn't sleep much, either," 3 added, tiredly rubbing his neck. "My sister apparently slept like a rock. I don't know how she did it..."
"I think we could all use some sleep," 2 agreed, stifling a yawn. "How can an old man sleep, when most of his children are off on a suicide mission? Go on to bed, the lot of you."
3 staggered off almost at once with a tired smile. "It'll be nice..."
"I can stand watch," 6 volunteered quickly, excited to be useful.
"Go on to the watchtower then," 2 consented, "while your brothers aren't around to stop you. I think 8 has earned a long rest."
8 tried not to sigh too loudly at that. He silently agreed, he could use some sleep while there was nothing dangerous to look out for. 6 scurried past him out of the common room, looking very thrilled and pleased with himself. At a more casual pace, 4 waked after him.
"I'll go keep him company," she decided. "Anyway, I've already slept. How can I go back to sleep with so much happening? Sleep well, 8. We'll see you later."
With the youngsters out of the way, 1 turned to him sternly.
"8, show our guest to a proper bed. It won't do to leave her on the sofa, like a Neanderthal."
While he wondered to himself what a Neanderthal was, he took Iyar by the hand and hauled her to her weary feet. Since she was half asleep already, he steered her down the hall to his own room. If it was a proper bed she needed-and more than deserved for her effort-he supposed she deserved better than a cot in the infirmary. There was one his size; but it wasn't really a proper bed.
Though she was falling asleep on her feet, she seemed to notice at once that he had led her to his own living space and was making her lie down in his large bed.
"I can't take your bed," she insisted tiredly. "You've gotta sleep somewhere, fella."
8 just shrugged. "I'll sleep anywhere," he bumbled, and turned to head for the infirmary.
"Gee," she sighed, falling back on his pillow. "The other giants are gonna like you."
Even though he was tired, it occurred to him that her last comment was odd. But as he fell into his oversized infirmary cot and drifted off, he decided he liked the sound of that.
The other giants...
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As with the third clan, only two had been lost from the second-Nathan the Prophet, who had been caught off his guard, and Samson the warrior, who had gone looking for his missing brother. Alive and mostly whole, they picked their way through the ruins together, hoping that their clan hadn't moved since they had been gone. Samson had his strong, rust-colored arm around Nathan, who wasn't in the best shape, but well enough to limp the few hours home.
"What an adventure this has been, hm?" He mused. "I'm glad it's over."
Nathan nodded his head, but remained silent. Even though he was limping and needed repair, he gazed over the world with a grin. Samson did the same, his heart swelling with joy to be a part of it again.
"It's so beautiful. It must be mid-summer by now."
"June," Nathan supplied quietly. "It is June, now. Midsummer is to come, still."
"Say, brother, do you know where the others are?"
"...Home," the Prophet decided after a pause. "They will be there."
Samson's smile grew. "The Lord provides, indeed. He was there, with us, in the midst of that fight. You, of all people, must have felt His presence."
Nathan looked up at his brother with his usual, gentle smile. "Shall we sing His praises?"
"I think that is a brilliant idea. It's been a long time since we've been able to sing, hasn't it?"
"But we sang anyway. We sang prayers. And prayers. And prayers."
"Yes, we did, with our very souls. But now, let us sing with our voices, as well. I love The Lord, who heard my cry..."
"And pitied every groan," Nathan continued, recalling the spiritual he loved so much. And then they sang together:
"Long as I live, and troubles rise, I'll hasten too Christ's throne."
The remainder of their journey was spent in song. It felt overwhelmingly good to sing out loud again. To be alive again. Surely, the presence of The Lord was in the land. The other clans could attribute it to anything they liked; but Samson and Nathan, at least, knew that it was by grace alone that they had been brought back.
Our return is going to knock them off their blocks. I wonder what they will have to say...?
Samson thought of his Lydia-their richly purple-skinned Bearer-and hoped she wouldn't die of a heart attack to see them again. All the time he had spent trapped in the first clan's talisman, he had thought of her with regret. He should have told her before of his hidden feelings; he thought she would never know. He thought he would never know if she felt the same for him. He had spent many of his soulful prayers on her, and that she would be alright, even if he never saw her again. She meant so much to him...
She's probably found love in one of the others, he thought mournfully. How could she not? So much time has passed; shes probably forgotten all about me. Surely, she must be married now; she must even have children. Oh, I was a fool for not telling her when I had the chance...
Their home soon came into view-a backyard tool shed, facing them from across an overgrown yard. The house stood mostly smashed opposite them, not that their clan ever ventured into it. But the tool shed had remained intact and suitable for living in. A fully grown human being could have lived in it rare comfortabley. Seeing their home at long last, Nathan attempted to quicken his step; but his limp held him back, and so did Samson.
"Don't worry, little brother," he insisted gently. "We'll be inside with our family in good time."
In fact, to their further joy, someone had already seen them coming and was running up to meet them. It was olive green Ezekiel, the scholar, and the next best thing the clan had for a defender, who must have been standing watch. He crossed the yard to them and flung his arms around them, knocking them to the ground in a heap of laughter.
"You've come home!" The young man tearfully exclaimed, holding his brothers close. "Where have you been all this time? Oh, but it doesn't matter-you're home! You're home!"
Nathan struggled out of Ezekiel's arms and clutched his bad leg, wincing in pain.
"Ow, ow, ow..."
"What's wrong?" Ezekiel asked worriedly, looking right to Nathan's injury. "What happened to him?"
"A long story, Zeke," Samson said quickly, and helped the Prophet back up. "We need to get him inside."
"Wow, they aren't going to believe this," his brother said in wonder, and also out his arm around Nathan to help him walk. "You have to tell us everything."
"You won't miss a detail, I promise. Is everyone well?"
"Yeah, but they'll be all the better to see you again."
"And... Lydia?"
Ezekiel tried not to grin too hard at that. "She'll be overjoyed. Believe me."
He was one of the few who knew about Samson's deep affections for their Bearer. Of course he would understand.
The shed was illuminated by sunlight as the three shuffled inside. The rest of the clan was gathered in plain sight around their communal fire, going about their normal business. It seemed they had gone on with life since their brothers had vanished. All the same, a tangible pall hung over them. Their missing were clearly, sorely missed.
"Hey, everyone!" Ezekiel called to them. "Looks who's back!"
All six of them looked up at once, and then stood dumbfounded. Nathan grinned back at them, very happy to see them agian. Samson waved for both of them.
"We're home."
With varied cries of joy and relief, the clan rushed to see them. And in an instant, Samson found himself back in the floor, surprised but not begrudged to be pinned under the weight of red-haired Lydia's fierce embrace.
"You're alive!" She cried in his ear. "You're alive! You're really alive!"
More than overwhelmed to see her again, he returned her hug and laughed and laughed. He couldn't contain himself, he was so happy. He thought to say her name, bge her calm down so he could sit up and see her lovely face. But before he could, she took his face in her hands and pressed her mouth tight against his.
He was so shocked, he was paralyzed for a long, sweet, surreal moment. All the words he had though to say we're gone in a flash. As she kissed him again, he held her all the tighter and kissed her right back. She released him slightly and looked right into his eyes.
"I've missed you so much..."
"Lydia, I love you. I should have told you before..."
She smiled back, her lip trembling. "I love you, too."
Oh, how he had longed to hear her say those words, from the moment he had first seen her. In a windfall, all his deepest prayers had been answered.
Their wonderful romantic moment was ended by a heartwarming chuckle above them. Of course he hadn't seen when, but the clan's elder had appeared above them, hands on his hips with a smile on his face.
"More than one prayer has been answered today, my son," he said warmly, as if reading Samon's mind. Kneeling beside them and placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder, he added, "Slmething tells me you've been on quite the journey."
Samson sat right up, still holding Lydia close in one arm, and gripped the old man's arm.
"Father, so much has happened. There's so much we have to tell you all."
"Tell away, then. We're listening."
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The fourth clan had been so badly depleted, a full six of them marched together through the vast Empitness. And coloring almost all of their moods was fuming Rosemary, trudging along indignantly with her arms crossed with a sour scowl.
"It's not fair," she grumbled after a considerable silence. "Mum won't stand for this."
"She suspected the first clan had something to do with the disappearances all along," agreed pale green Oregano. "Just wait until she finds out. She'll see justice done at the gathering. We'll all see her talk some sense into Epsilon's head."
So far, reserved Tarragon was glad to notice, Rosemary and Organo were the only two to feel so strongly about it. What the others thought was yet unknown; they had walked a long way in tense quiet. Maybe because some of them weren't willing to voice their conflicting opinions, after the firy woman had snapped at him before.
Tarragon had always felt there was something fishy going on with the first clan, beyond the disappearances. He had turned out to be right about that. He was more than willing to believe that it wasn't Pi's fault so many of them had been killed, after everything he had seen from within the talisman. Unlike his sister, he was even willing to give the child the benefit of the doubt. She wasn't even a fully mature adult yet.
But Rosemary couldn't see past her merciless slaughter four years earlier, and sorely wanted revenge. Whether or not her furious soul had paid attention to what was happening was a mystery. Even if she had, it was just like her to not give a flaming crap. She had been dead and enslaved to a monster for four years. All she wanted was retribution.
Now, dammit.
For himself, Tarragon could care less about revenge. He was just happy to be free and alive again. And he was excited to see what remained of his family again.
"You know, the fact that only 12 people were actually taken is a blessing," he mentioned, carefully choosing very neutral words. "Wow, if the fifth clan hadn't shown up, who knows how long this could have gone on."
To that, Rosemary scoffed. "Idiots. I mean, really! Did you see that one-eyed freak of nature stand up for her like that? It should be criminal to be that stupid! Just wait-he'll be the first person she kills next, and then they'll all be sorry."
Several of them sniggered cruelly at the thought of it.
"Bet he thinks she's in loooove with him, too," laughed teenaged Dill.
"She'll get him in the night, while he's sleeping," added his slightly younger brother, Thyme, who punched him hard on the shoulder. "Not much different from you, huh, Dilly?"
The two began bickering and hitting each other, like the gross little boys they were at heart. Tarragon stifled an annoyed sigh. Rosemary brooding, Oregano sucking up to her, the boys scuffling around, the rest of them too intimidated to speak up...
Geez. All that time stuck in a magical talisman, and none of them had changed at all. Depressing, really...
Trying to take his mind off that, he looked over at Sage, the Prophet, as she sort of skipped along, her blonde pigtails flouncing around with her every abrupt movement. She was oblivious to the rest of them, grinning goofily over the world as if she had never seen it before. She hadn't changed either, but that was really okay with him.
"Hey, Sage, what are you thinking about?" He asked.
"Oh... The sun and stuff," she answered vaguely.
Hearing her voice for the first time, Rosemary snapped her attention to the Prophet. "What about our home?" She demanded. "Are they still there? What do you see?"
"I see the sun," the girl answered plainly, gazing up at the sky. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Mr. Sun? Boy, is it a nice day today."
"How about something that's actually useful?" Rosemary growled back. "Tell us where mum is!"
Sage went on staring at the sky.
"...Nah."
Rosemary then turned her glare on Tarragon, silently demanding that he force an answer out of the girl. Unwilling to do something to mean after they had finally come back, he just shrugged.
"Prophets, right?"
Rosemary rolled her eyes and scoffed loudly at him, and returned to her silent fuming. Tarragon suddenly couldn't see how she could be so mad at Mu for what she had done, and why she should want to take it out on someone else-if not on Pi, then on the rest of her clan. She was perfectly fine with it. They had been so alike, she and Mu. They had been very friendly before. Rosemary had practically painted a target on her back, really.
Would she have even balked at being Alpha's servant, if he had asked her? Tarragon felt a shiver run down his spine, and decided not to trust her for a good long while.
They were still a way from their home-the small but amazingly intact house that had belonged to their own creator-when they spotted three other Stitchpunks down the road ahead of them. Tarragon and Sage noticed them first; squinting to see in the bright light, his heart lept up. The tall, slender figure ahead of him was instantly recognizable: Chamomile, his sister, the fourth clan's Bearer.
"Found 'em," Sage cheered, and then bolted away down the street. Not bothering to see what his brothers thought of his cheerfulness, Tarragon ran after her, intent on hugging his mother.
Hearing Sage's high-pitched voice for the first time in three years, majestic Chammomile stopped at once and turned to look. Holding her hand, the smallest member of their family, silver and green Peppermint with her long, raven hair also stopped and spun around to see as well. While the tall teenager hesitated, probably not believing what she was seeing, the little girl squealed with delight and ran up to meet Sage.
As the two girls collided in the middle of the street, holding each other and laughing merrily, Tarragon kept running in past them. He ran until he flew into the arms of Parsely, his mother and elder. And he quickly found himself sandwiched between her and Chamomile, laughing in his ear.
"I knew you'd be back, big brother!" She cheered, her sturdy, butter-yellow arms tightening like a serpent around his waist. She was squeezing the air out of him, making it impossible to answer her, but he didn't care. It was just a miracle to be here, to see them again at all.
As quickly as she had taken him into her arms, Parsley pushed him back a bit, still gripping him defensively by his shoulders, and have him a hard look. "Where have you been, young man?" She demanded angrily. "You take off in the middle of the night, leave the three of us defenseless, and disappear for the better part of the year! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"Mom, mom, its alright," he insisted in the calmest voice he could manage. "Oh my gosh, you guys, so much has happened I don't know where to start. It's just... It's amazing!"
"Where have you been?" Chamomile asked, giving him direction.
"...With the first clan, I suppose you could say," he answered slowly. "Mom... Chammy... We've been dead, the others and I."
Chamomile looked confused, tilting her head to one side and regarding her brother as if he were a bit crazy. But Parsely looks very concerned, and suspicious.
"I knew it," she muttered, sounding mildly pleased. "I just knew there was something going on with them. Oh, I hated to think of my poor Epsilon being up to no good, but... I still can't believe it was his fault."
"It wasn't, mom. It was the Bearer-"
Chamomile made a dismissive noise. "I didn't know they had a Bearer."
"It's a long story. Lets get home. We'll tell you everything, then. And there's still so much to be done, too! Just wait until you hear all this..."
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The third clan's summer home had seen utter chaos of all kinds in the last several hours. From fear and shock, to a time of tense worry and excitement, to overwhelming joy at seeing all its missing members return. But now it was nice and quiet again. In fact, the heroes had long since fallen into deep and well-earned slumber. All four of them slept like the dead, and Tishrei could not say he blamed them.
Cheshvan had been unable to sleep, though-not when he was alive and home, and could hold his wife and two children close once again. Only six months he had been gone, but he could see he had missed a lot in that time. He couldn't remember where his son had gotten most of his mended scars and patches; and Hadassah, his daughter, had learned to walk while he hadn't been there to see it. Keslev was so overwhelmed by his return that she couldn't seem to stop crying, not even to say how much she had missed him or how hard she had prayed to see him again.
Seeing that they wouldn't be needing their bed for a while, the very happy couple had told 7 and 9 to take it instead. The exhausted warrior woman had tumbled face-first into her borrowed pillow, asleep before her head even hit it, and her husband had done pretty much the same. 9 had returned with a scar covering one side of his face, and was almost too weak to walk; his placidness was so unusual, and obviously caused by something unearthly.
While the rest of the clan clammored around Cheshvan and Sivan, drilling them for the details of their adventure, Tishrei had retreated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know all the details. For now, he sat on the edge of Adar's bed, watching his youngest son slumbering deeply and peacefully. It had been a while since he had been at peace with himself. Being unable to save his brother had taken a terrible toll on him. At last, his soul was healing.
Tishrei laid a gentle hand in his son's shoulder; of course the boy didn't stir at all. He sighed to himself and smiled. He looked up as another precense suddenly joined him, and wasn't surprised to see it was Nisan. Her blue veil fell gracefully over her shoulders and covered her tumbling black hair; though a tell-tale streak of silver thread shone in it here and there.
Such a pretty woman. And his wife, no less. He was very proud of her, as he usually was. But in this moment, her bemused smirk seemed to silently point out that there was a lavish apology to be had. Tishrei's smile fell, and he suddenly couldn't bear to look at her. He was so ashamed of himself.
"I know, I know. I should have listened to you, my dear. From the bottom of this old heart, I am sorry."
"It happens," she answered vaguely, but appeared to be satisfied. She sat down beside him and held his free hand. With a sigh of her own, she sated, "It has all come to pass, just as He said it would. The day is new, indeed."
There was still an air of disappointment to her statement, though. She had spent the night in prayerful meditation, awaiting a sign that her son had completed his mission. And it had come early in the morning, a vision of great victory, but also of great sadness. In the course of an hour, a Bearer and a Prophet had both been lost. The loss of the first clan's Prophet had shaken Nisan to her core, an invisible blow that had hit her heart with full force.
It was such a shame: all the other clans had been mended, but the first now had more holes than ever before.
"Iyar is safe," she remarked. "She has delivered your message, as told. She will be home, and will travel with us next week. And there... More than a few things will be put to rights."
"Will the fifth clan be there?" Tishrei asked. Of course me knew they would be; but he hoped to hear his wife tell him more.
"They will all be there," she answered, closing her eyes to see better. She smiled softly. "Oh... Their little Prophet will be a sweet thing."
"It will be nice to see 1 again. I haven't seen him since..." Tishrei trailed off, trying to remember his last encounter with his fellow Elder. The five of them-Epsilon and Peter, Parsley and 1, and himself-had only been together briefly, before any of the others had been created. And four of them had stayed in touch; but 1 had vanished. It was just like him, and he had threatened to leave and never return. It had been a sad thing when he made good in that promise.
As such, no one had seen much of the fifth clan in years. There had been unconfirmed rumors over the years, distant sightings and unexpected chance encounters with a certain masked warrior who must have been run-away 7 all that time. There had simply been no contact with them until 9 had appeared out of the blue the previous year, unaware that there were other clans at all. Apparently, none of them had known.
It was just like 1, to keep such a secret for so long. Tishrei couldn't wait to see him, and give him a proper scolding for his general unpleasantness. The other Elders would scold him as well. Nonetheless, they would be happy to have him back. And they would be happy to have his clan around, the way it was supposed to have been. What little was known of them was impressive. He couldn't wait to meet the rest of them.
Nisan opened her eyes and made a thoughtful face. "They will arrive ten strong," she said finally, as a smile crept back into her face. "However, eleven will return to their home in the library. The whisper is true."
"That is exciting," Tishrei agreed. "The girl will have a good home with them. I will look forward to what happens with them in the days to come."
"Great things, to be sure," she agreed, patting sleeping Adar on the head. "Some happy, and some sad, as it is with families. Many things will change, my dear."
"But change is often good for us."
"Yes... For now, let our heroes rest. There is much for them still to face."