The Tock in the Pines
The moss went soft under Rumi's hands, cool as a folded blanket. They were carrying Rosa's little clay jar along the root path, holding it with both hands. Inside was pine balm, thick and gold, that Rosa had stirred all week. It smelled like warm trees and crushed mint, and the smell came up through the lid. Rosa hopped ahead, one ear up and one ear folded over, choosing the easy way between the stones. Lanterns of starlight hung in the branches and swung a little when the wind moved. "Not far," said Rosa. "The old bench, then home."
Rumi stepped over a root that was slick with dew. Their foot slid. The jar tipped out of their hands, tapped a flat stone, and rolled to a stop in the moss. Nothing spilled. But a thin crack ran down the clay like a hair, and the smell of pine and mint came pouring out of it into the cold air. Rumi picked the jar up quickly. Rosa was three hops ahead, still watching the path, still choosing stones. Rumi turned the crack around so it faced their coat, and said nothing at all.
They walked on. The forest smelled wonderful now, greener and sharper with every step, and that was the trouble. The smell followed them like a friendly dog. Rumi kept the jar turned inward and kept their mouth shut, and the not-saying sat in their chest like a stone in a pocket. Rosa sniffed the air and looked pleased. "The pines are strong tonight," she said. Rumi nodded. It was easy to nod. It was much harder to say the true thing, and the true thing kept getting bigger the longer it waited.
Then, out in the dark trees, something went tock. Rosa stopped with one paw lifted. Rumi stopped too. The sound came again, slow and patient, from somewhere off the path where the ferns grew tall. Tock. Tock. "Listen. There it goes again," said Rumi. Rosa's whiskers moved. "It's not hurrying," she said. "Whatever it is." They stood together and listened, and Rumi noticed that their hands had gone tight around the jar, and that the crack was pressing into their palm, and that they were tired of holding it that way.
"Rosa," said Rumi. "I dropped your jar. Back by the wet root. It's cracked and I didn't say." The words came out smaller than they had felt inside. Rumi held the jar out with the crack facing up, into the starlight, where it could be seen. Rosa leaned close and looked at it a long moment. "So that's why the whole forest smells like the inside of a pine tree," she said. "I wondered." Rumi breathed out. Their chest felt roomy again, the way a coat does when you undo the top button.
Tock, said the dark. "Come on," said Rosa, and she turned off the path into the ferns, and Rumi came after her with the jar held open now, crack and all. The smell got stronger as they went, and warmer, and sweeter. Ferns brushed their knees. Moss took their footsteps and gave back no sound. At the bottom of a slope stood an old pine, wide as a doorway, with a scar in its bark where a branch had come away years ago. From the scar, one drop of resin at a time, sap was falling into a hollow stone below. Tock. Tock.
It had been filling that stone all evening, and maybe all week, for nobody in particular. The hollow held a small gold pool, still and warm-smelling, with two stars floating in it. "Listen. There it goes again," said Rosa softly. Rumi knelt and set the cracked jar in the moss. They tipped a little resin into it with a curl of bark, filling it up past the crack. Then they smoothed the warm gold along the split with one finger, inside and out, until the clay held itself together and the seam went shiny. Rosa put her paw on the jar to steady it while it cooled.
They sat down side by side with their backs against the old pine, the mended jar between them, smelling of mint and trees and stars. Rumi's eyes were heavy. Rosa's folded ear went floppier than ever. "Listen. There it goes again," Rumi said, almost asleep. One more drop came away from the scar in the bark. It fell the long slow fall and landed in the hollow stone, and the rings went out from the middle, wider and wider, out to the edges and back. Then the little gold pool went smooth, and held the starlight still, and did not move again.
