Communicating

Jere froze, staring at Eny. Her wide green eyes blinked innocently back at him, unaware - or perhaps uncaring - that she had just voiced a thought she could not possibly have overheard.

Ylfa’s hand squeezed his tighter. In his chest, the words formed unbidden. I love you.

He waited. A beat later, Eny’s voice rang out again, bright as a bell.

“Mama says she loves you too.”

His heart leapt. Relief crashed through him like water breaking a dam. They could still communicate - through Eny. It was imperfect, but it was something. Yet his processors scrambled, tearing through possibilities. Eny could read minds. Was this because she was half-human? Or was there some other, hidden bloodline at work? He had no frame of reference for powers like this. But even if he couldn’t explain it, he had been handed something priceless: a way to reach Ylfa.

His thoughts turned quickly, and he tested the bond. Are you alright?

Eny’s gaze went distant for a moment, then she smiled. “She says yes, and wants to know how you are.”

Jere smiled faintly, though his chest still ached. I’m okay.

He drew a slow breath, then turned his attention back to Eny. “Eny, how are you able to do this?”

She shrugged cheerfully. “I don’t know! I just started hearing Mama trying to say things to you. So I helped her!”

His hand found her hair, ruffling it with gentle affection. “Well, I’m very grateful. Can you keep helping us like this?”

She puffed her chest proudly. “Of course!”

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at him. “By the way… why are you calling us Mama and Papa now?”

Eny blinked as though the question itself were strange. “Because you said I was your daughter.”

He stiffened. He hadn’t - but then he remembered the villagers, and how he had left their assumption unchallenged. She must have taken his silence as acceptance. He considered correcting her, but before he could, she spoke again.

“I already called Mama that. She likes it. It makes her happy.”

His eyes flicked toward Ylfa. Her cheeks were tinted pink, and despite everything, she smiled faintly. Jere’s processors hesitated, torn between logic and something else - something warmer.

Ylfa, I’m sorry. I let the villagers believe a few things that aren’t true. I’ll clear it up tomorrow.

Eny relayed instantly: “She wants to know what you let them believe.”

He grimaced. I let them believe we’re married. And that Eny is our daughter.

Eny’s expression softened into a mischievous grin as her voice carried the reply. “She says she doesn’t mind. And that you shouldn’t clear it up - it’ll make things easier.”

Heat rose to his face. Are you sure?

Ylfa’s blush deepened, but she nodded, her nervous smile betraying the truth. Even robbed of her voice, even silenced, she was still radiant to him.

Her eyes flicked toward his, and Eny giggled. “She says thank you for the compliment.”

Jere’s face burned. He had forgotten - every stray thought could now slip through to her. He squeezed Ylfa’s hands instead, grounding himself.

We’ll get through this. Together.

Eny beamed. “She says she’s so happy you can think like that now.”

For the first time in days, Jere smiled without hesitation. He was learning - not just about her, but about himself. He was learning to care, to place others above the weight of his guilt.

But his processors never rested. Plans began to spool up. Okay. For now this works, but we need another way to talk when Eny isn’t around.

Eny puffed her cheeks, pouting. “She says she agrees. And I say I’ll always be around.”

Jere chuckled softly, patting her head. “I don’t mean like that. Sometimes you’ll be out playing, or exploring. You won’t always be right beside us.”

Her pout faded into comprehension. “Ohhh. Okay, I understand.”

He gave her a grateful smile. I’ll ask around, see if anyone has writing supplies. I’ll be back soon.

Ylfa nodded, returning his smile with quiet strength. He squeezed her hands once more, then rose to his feet. With one last glance at her, he stepped toward the door and disappeared into the village light.

Ylfa watched him go, her heart torn between relief and sorrow. Then she looked down. Eny was grinning up at her, eyes sparkling with a secret.

Ylfa barely had time to wonder before a voice bloomed inside her head - clear, wordless, yet unmistakably Eny’s.

“I don’t remember much! Only that I lived in a palace. With my old Mama.”

Ylfa’s breath caught. She had forgotten - Eny wasn’t just their bridge. She was something else entirely.

Can you do anything else? she thought carefully.

Eny tilted her head. Her telepathic voice was bright, curious. “I don’t know. I only realised I could hear thoughts when I woke up earlier.”

A rush of tenderness swept Ylfa’s chest. I’m so glad I can still communicate. Thank you, Eny. I’m proud to call you my daughter.

Eny’s whole face lit up like dawn. With a squeal of joy, she threw herself into Ylfa’s arms.

And for a moment, Ylfa forgot the silence that had stolen her voice. She only felt warmth.

Jere returned about an hour later, the door creaking as a soft knock rattled against it. Ylfa tilted her head, uncertain - until Eny’s cheerful voice filled her mind.

“Papa’s back! And someone else is with him.”

Ylfa’s ears twitched at the silent message. She crossed the room and opened the door. Jere stood there, tall and steady as ever, though behind him hovered a nervous figure - a young woman with long rabbit ears that twitched restlessly. A worn satchel hung at her side, the strap digging into her shoulder as though she’d carried it a long way.

Jere’s thought brushed gently into Eny, who relayed it at once: This is Effie. She’s fluent in sign language and has agreed to teach you, in exchange for one gem from the bag.

Ylfa smiled warmly, dipping her head in thanks. Effie blinked, startled by the kindness, then returned a small, shy smile of her own. Ylfa stepped aside, ushering them in. The door closed softly behind her as they moved toward the living room.

Effie perched on the couch beside Ylfa, her satchel landing with a soft thump at her feet. She loosened the clasp and began to rummage through it - chalk, slates, bits of folded parchment - but suddenly her hands froze. Her ears shot upright, her eyes wide as they darted around the room.

Eny giggled, covering her mouth with both hands. Jere’s processors clicked; he knew immediately what had happened. Eny had spoken directly into Effie’s mind.

Effie swallowed hard, staring at him. “Jere… your daughter can read minds. You know this, right?”

He nodded calmly. “I am aware. Do not tell anyone else. Understood?”

Her throat bobbed as she nodded quickly. She hesitated, then added with a sideways glance at Eny, “She just told me I don’t need to use my writing equipment. That she can… act as a bridge between me and Ylfa.”

Jere inclined his head. “That is correct.”

Effie’s ears drooped slightly, her nerves still obvious, but she straightened. “Alright then. Jere… will you be learning sign as well?”

“Yes,” he said simply, lowering himself onto the floor with his usual, almost soldier-like composure.

Effie nodded once, gathering her confidence. She raised her hands and began with the basics - introductions, greetings, simple words. Eny chattered between them, carrying meaning from teacher to student.

The room filled with the quiet rhythm of hands moving, Ylfa’s fingers copying Effie’s hesitant but precise motions, Jere following along with stiff concentration. Eny’s laughter laced through it all as she bridged the silent world with her strange new gift.

It was awkward, halting, and slow. But it was also progress. And for the first time since Ylfa had lost her voice, there was hope that one day she wouldn’t need a bridge at all.

Eventually, the last rays of sun slipped behind the valley’s ridges, painting the sky in dusky purples and gold. Effie stretched, her long ears twitching.

“Alright. That’s enough for today,” she said with a tired but gentle smile. “I’ll return tomorrow and we can continue. Keep practicing in the meantime. Good luck!”

She gave a polite bow, then slipped out, the wooden door clicking softly shut behind her.

For a moment, the house was quiet. Jere looked at Ylfa and, slowly, raised his hands, forming the simple shapes Effie had drilled into them that afternoon.

How are you feeling?

Ylfa blinked at his clumsy but clear motions. Her chest warmed, and she raised her own hands, the shapes hesitant but sure.

I’m okay. I’m happy.

He nodded once, his eyes soft. Then he straightened, switching to thought-speech for Eny’s sake.

Are you hungry?

“She says yes,” Eny answered instantly, a little smile tugging at her lips.

He dipped his chin. Okay. I’ll cook something up.

Ylfa’s ears flicked with worry, her gaze sharp on him. Eny tilted her head and relayed, “She wants to know if you’ll be okay.”

His lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile. Don’t worry. I memorised every recipe you ever made for us.

Her brows lifted in surprise. He left her with that promise and strode toward the kitchen, the faint creak of the floorboards marking his steady pace.

Inside, he was calm. Confident. His processors brought up precise logs - hours of footage of Ylfa cooking, every flick of her wrist, every tilt of the pan, every seasoning sprinkled at just the right moment. He had recorded the look of onions when they browned, the scent markers of broth at its peak, the textures of dough as it turned pliant. Entire gigabytes of memory dedicated to the simple, quiet act of her cooking.

He pulled open cabinets, set out a pan, lit the stove, and began. The sizzle of oil, the rhythm of his knife, the controlled timing of each step - it was all calculated, but beneath it lay something more. He wasn’t just replicating a recipe. He was honoring her.

When they finally sat down, Ylfa lifted her fork, doubtful - until the first bite touched her tongue. Her ears twitched in delight, her eyes widening. It was rich, balanced, far beyond what she expected of his first attempt.

Eny grinned, watching her mother’s tail flick. “Mama says she thinks your cooking is really good, Papa.”

Heat crept up Jere’s neck, and Ylfa flushed too, both of them forgetting for an instant that Eny was always listening.

Jere smiled faintly and thought, Thank you. I learnt from the best.

Ylfa’s lips curved, her blush deepening as Eny relayed it back to her. The three of them ate in silence, the clink of cutlery filling the small house.