The Woodmaster

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY KAYDEE!?" Mom yelled at the Postmaster, in the middle of the crowd. Nearly everyone present decided that was just the perfect moment to go back to whatever it was they were doing.

The Postmaster, who had long since transcended the ability to feel shame, had wobbles of experience responding to that question. Nobody even died this time!

Petal waved her hand dismissively. "Calm down, Proscribrarian." She smiled and continued, "I did tell you that I'd be using your kaydee to test the latest delivery technology, didn’t I?"

The Proscribrarian threw her hands up. "I thought you were going to try out new ponchos on her!"

The Postmaster was taken aback by this statement. "I should do that too. Wow. Great idea, Bloom. Wow." It suddenly became a top priority.

Then Maizy—ever so gently—glided down toward Mom, who stood ready to catch her like she was receiving a divine package. Maizy knew that forced pouch insertion—the kad equivalent of "go to your room"—was probably imminent, so she quickly clawed her way onto Mom’s back.

"Your kaydee just made history!" Glen exclaimed, dramatically pointing to the excited little backpack now clinging to Bloom. "Maizy—and Branch—invented a new form of flight!"

"I could see that!" Mom was flustered. "Clearly!" She didn’t like the idea of her tiny little kaydee soaring above the canopy alone—not one bit.

Then Maizy had an idea. A small, brave idea.

She hopped off Mom’s back, awkwardly walked in front of her, then signed, "Mom, fly with me."

"What?" Mom understood perfectly what Maizy had just signed.

"Please." Maizy put on her cute, pleading face—so full of hope, it spilled over into the crowd. How could Mom say no to that?

Around them, the other kads had gone quiet. Not silent in the awkward way—but hushed, as if something sacred were unfolding. Even the wind seemed to still, waiting.

Mom couldn’t look away this time—too many witnesses, all clearly on Maizy’s side. Bloom knew these kads; every one of them gave her that wistful look, urging her to step over the threshold of confounded distress into the valley of acceptance.

"Alright."

A soft, reverent cheer rose from the crowd. Mom found it wildly inappropriate and swept her glare from side to side until each kad suddenly found something over there that demanded their urgent attention.

Maizy climbed onto Mom’s back, lowered their combined mass to almost nothing, and gently took off.

"Oh!" Mom was startled—then instinctively spread her limbs for gliding.

They rose into the canopy, tree frogs smiling and waving. Leaves whispered around them as they climbed into golden light, the wind cradling them like a lullaby. Maizy circled the tree, slow, as if to say, Look, Mom. Look at the world with me.

And then, gently—so gently—they glided back down.

They landed in the courtyard, where they’d begun.

Maizy hopped down, smiling hopefully. "What you think?" she signed.

For a moment, Mom said nothing.

Then her voice broke.

She crumpled, tears falling like rain. "You're too much," she whispered, hands rising helplessly to her face. "What am I going to do with you?"

Then the Woodmaster—still near the Postmaster—stepped up to the Proscribrarian. He moved as if to speak, and nearby kads bowed their heads. All fell silent. Many edged closer; it was rare for him to appear in public—rarer still to speak.

He cleared his throat with ceremony. "Proscribrarian," he began, pausing, "many lights shine bright when first lit, only to disappoint us by growing dim."

Somewhere in the crowd, a kad whispered, "That's so true."

Then he kicked Branch.  Hard.

Branch yelped.

"What are you thinking, using such a young kaydee to test a dangerous new invention!?"

"Master, I..." Branch began, but the Woodmaster kicked him again.

Then the Woodmaster’s tail glowed an exceptionally bright green, and Maizy’s sandals melted right off her feet—straight into the tree. It was nearly instantaneous.

"I have memorized the design," the Woodmaster said, then contemplated it for a moment. "It needs work.  Much needs to be improved." He then walked over to Maizy, who flinched, thinking he was about to kick her too.

He was unfazed. "Maizy, are you the inventor of this new device?"

"Yes she is!" Branch exclaimed, giving Maizy a pleading look behind the Woodmaster’s back. The message on his face was clear: Just say yes.

Maizy wasn’t sure why Branch wanted to be excluded, but she nodded anyway.

"Then you shall name it," the Woodmaster declared, motioning to Maizy.

Wow, he really put me on the spot.  Maizy thought for a moment—longer than everyone else present felt was comfortable. Nobody thought it wise to make the Woodmaster wait. Then she signed:

"A S C E N D A L S."

The Woodmaster smiled and clapped. "Excellent name! That’s actually quite clever!" He turned to the Proscribrarian, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I feel for you. And if you need help with that cookie containment device, I’ll tend to it personally."

WHAT!?

Mom squinted at him. "You can't have any cookies, Nook."

Nook?

The Woodmaster looked offended. "Why not!?" Then he stomped his foot, and the whole tree shook.

Mom looked like she was considering something, then spoke. "Let's make a deal. If you watch your sister all day tomorrow, I will give you two cookies."

"Two more when she is returned," the Woodmaster insisted.

"Deal." Mom then walked up to the Woodmaster and gave him a hug. "You should come visit me sometimes. Auntie Blossom gets to see you all the time, but your own mother? No. You'd think I live on the other side of the mountain!"

The Woodmaster is MY BROTHER!?

"Come on, Mom. You know how busy I am!" Nook pleaded. Then he motioned for the crowd to dissipate—and they did, rapidly. The Postmaster had to grab Glen by the ear, but they also left, together with Branch.

Mom sighed. "Yes, I know. I just miss you. Have you gone to visit Prairie recently?"

"Just last week. Her condition is..." He looked sad. "Unchanged. The Kittay do take good care of her, though."

"I know you think it's possible for her to shake it off, but it's unlikely." Mom looked sad too, now. "But there's a chance... when Maizy's grown up, she might be able to bring back her memories—or lift the curse entirely."

What are they talking about? Who is Prairie?

The Woodmaster’s sad demeanor transformed into one of hope. "What do you mean?"

"She was able to help Grandma restore memories erased by a curse."

Mom then gave the Woodmaster a serious look. "She still can't control her debugging instinct... so we need to keep her far away from that place." She looked at Maizy. "That's why we need to wait until she's older. We'll be training every night until she's ready."

"That's... great news!" The Woodmaster looked like he was about to cry.

"I'm serious, Nook.  We must be patient.  It's far too easy for a keedo or kaydee to get cursed, as you know." Mom looked deadly serious.

Ah, Prairie—whoever she is—must be cursed. I'll eat it! Haha, that burp was EPIC.  She laughed internally at the memory.

"I will erect a wall thicker than the tree and taller than a mountain if I have to." The Woodmaster looked at Maizy. "To keep her safe."

Maizy noticed that the Woodmaster—her brother—was now looking at her completely differently than before.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then. Bright and early!" the Woodmaster said, then turned and walked away.