The sun was slightly higher in the sky. It was no longer a deep purple. Hints of orange peered from the clouds with just a bit more warmth. Anemone finally arrived at a forest clearing, right where the Third District was. The few trees that grew in the basin were where insecta nurseries lay. She had arrived at the Bombyx-Mori Nursery. From silkworms to mealworms and beetle larvae. Long netlike curtains of webs stretched between some of the trees, acting like a cage. Keeping predators out and livestock in. Or at least that's how it was. Now, some of the one well-made pockets had torn nets with damaged trees and homes. Unfortunately, the gallu had also made their way here.

  “At least I can finally see the full gloom of the sky,” said Anemone. "Its a lot cold out here.... It's almost lonely."

  She stood on a hill that almost sloped into a basin. This was one of the few cleared-out areas in the woods. There were only a few homes in the sparse trees. Unlike the First and Second Districts, however, the trees here were far smaller. Almost a twentieth of the size, smaller than everything there. The other homes were on the ground, crafted with wood and mud, and lay scattered throughout the area. The First District was home to most of the fae's wood-based architecture. Long cabins, ranches, and cottage-style homes all shared these woods.

  Mostly, residents remained on the forest floor. A few of the homes are on the outskirts, close to the woods. The rest congregated closer to the manufactured hubs of the silk processing plants. Elves had made the Third District their mainstay. There were a few still in the First District from ages ago, but mostly Wood elves lived here. Just across the river was Fourth District, a district well-known for its accommodations to therianthropes. Unlike Third, which had nature everywhere, Fourth District had brick and stone-like building structures.

  None of them was as tall as the trees in the rest of Tir-noNog, but they held ten to twenty families at a time. Their stone buildings were sharp at every corner. Long rectangles or stubby squares made up their buildings and homes. Every roof pointed toward the sky with an almost spear-like tip. The streets were long and narrow, almost suffocating, as they funneled therianthropes in a straight line throughout the district. Albionian architecture juxtaposed all the hollowed-out wooden homes with its strong geometric design. Looking upon the charred remains of trees and buildings, the river that ran between the area made the difference even clearer.

  “They move more Formica-like than we do,” said Anemone.

  As Anemone stepped onto the premises, she met her commanding officer. After getting briefed, she informed them of Aron’s situation. Then they sent a whisper out to Aron’s CO to inform them of the situation. Once that got sorted out, it was straight to work. She dashed across the field, checking every bush, abandoned farm equipment, and dark spot she could remember. The whole time, she kept her mobility-boosting Ars on to test her endurance. In a few moments, she had already crossed over five fields' worth of land. As time passed, a familiar voice would grab her attention.

  “Morning, princess! I see you’re getting some practice in.” A voice called.

  Anemone turned to see an older fae floating above with his basket full of cocoons. The mask he wore had two parts. The top half of the mask, which would have covered his eyes, slid over his forehead. His thick overalls and gloves looked as worn as the bags under his eyes. Dirt and strands of cocoon silk covered him from head to toe. Meanwhile, the lower half of it hung on top of his long, hanging white and citrus orange beard. There were only faint streaks of gray in his citrus orange hair, unlike his beard. What made her recognize him the most was the bronze bell tied to the lower end of his beard.

  “Ah, it’s Mr. Willowbrow,” Anemone thought. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  “Almost a few months, hasn’t it? Still speed hunting, I see.”

  He smiled with his eyes locked on the woven silk nets stretched far above the canopy. Willowbrow fluttered down from above, patting his shoulders and flexing his wing muscles. He was another acquaintance of Spriggan from his younger days. Unlike Commander Airelle, who had a stern demeanor, Willowbrow was usually more enthusiastic. When it came to tales of the past, he often matched Spriggan’s energy. The old fae did not look frail for his age, either. He was still lean and still had a strong, angular face. His skin sagged a bit, but his gray beard outlined his jaw nicely. Willowbrow looked sleeker than Spriggan, who kept a more untamed look. Even though his working clothes were dirty, they contoured cleanly.

  “Icy and wet roads up the difficulty to grab them. I’m surprised to see you’re still working in the Nursery, Mr. Willowbrow,” Anemone bowed her head.

  “No need for formalities; I’m not a royal or the Armada. Therefore, I must work!” said Mr. Willowbrow.

  A smile stretched across his face. Then he flexed his right arm as he talked.

  “Ever since the Armada pushed into the outer parts of the Third District, I’ve had less space to farm my colony. Now I do more for the Kingdom’s Nursery than my own.”

  Anemone tilted her head, “Does that mean your children are cultivating your nursery?”

  “No, no. Longleaf and Roundleaf are out looking for who knows what now.” Mr. Willowbrow stroked his hairy chin and huffed. “Their spouses are always on my case, but if it’s not the Armada, something else has their attention. They probably get it from their mother.”

  “Rayla, was it? She was a therianthrope, right?”

  “Yup. Rayla was half-lycan and half aos-si. Lauma, I miss her—loyal like a dog but distracted easily. Unlike them,” he wagged his finger. “Silkleaf helps. When she’s not attending her priestess duties.”

  “At least she’s consistent.”

  Anemone paused, holding her arm. As the words left her lips, they stopped coming out of her mouth.

  “So, there’s no one left to carry it on?” she said.

  “Yup, just me.”

  Something about that made her heart sink. Anemone kept her face straight as the old fae smiled wryly. After bending down to pick up a net that was next to his leg, he spoke again.

  “It’s a bit of a mixed bag, just like this marvel right here. These silken nets are a mix of arachnid and bombyx-mori larvae silk. Technology, huh? Soon I’ll be out of a job!” he laughed.

  Anemone gazed at the small piece he held in his hands and then at the oversized silk webbing that covered the area. It was a marvel to behold the size of the net. Tir-noNog had cultivated silk webbing to keep, catch, and hunt prey ages ago; now they use it to keep predators away from their livestock. Willowbrow’s somber tone mismatched his wide smile. He had always raged about technological advances beforehand. But now? His shoulders slumped with a softened face. Anemone turned toward him with her eyes narrowed. She responded to his statement with an uncertain tone.

  “It prevents the worms from escaping and keeps pests away, doesn’t it?” Anemone asked, “Is there something wrong?”

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  “I’m just being an old grouch.” Willowbrow smiled. “Even if other pests were feeding on too much of the trees and our worms. They often caught the attention of other creatures. Especially a certain rare spider.”

  Anemone kept her face straight but leaned closer.

  “What kind of spider?”

  “It was the one with a weird-looking pointy backside…” he paused.

  As his fingers snapped, Mr. Willowbrow looked up at the corner of his eyes for a moment. Then, he shut them as if they were scanning his mind. When his eyes flashed open, they were as bright as the stars across the night's sky. Life popped back into him, and his chest filled with air, as if he were about to float.

  “A Spiny-back Weaver! I only know because I caught one myself. I even had my sister spin its silk scarf for Rayla,” Willowbrow laughed. While I loathed hunting for it, I couldn’t help but smile inwardly whenever she wore it.

  “That’s sweet. It must have been quite an experience.” Anemone’s face softened. “Why did you hide your smile from her?”

  “And let her know how much that made me happy? Never!” he laughed. “She would never let it go!”

  He folded his arms and let out a huff of air deep from his belly.

  “I should have told her she was the love of my life more....”

  Willowbrow still stood tall as he spoke. But those words? His words rang sweet before dropping to a sullen tone. It practically forced Anemone to cross her arms. Soon, a pit formed in her stomach, and keeping her shoulders up was almost too much.

  “I didn’t mean to be a soaked leaf. Honestly!” His voice perked. “The entire process of hunting the darn thing was a pain, but it was quite a memory. It’s a shame these youngins won’t have that opportunity too.”

  Anemone laughed, “They have other dreams they’re chasing. And this net helps mitigate the use of more aos-si. Especially for guard duty. It can’t be that bad.”

  “I mostly agree with you… Technology’s convenience is fantastic. But now families have lost traditions we’ve had for generations. It breaks my heart, but tomorrow is for you, young folks. Yesterday was my time.”

  There was a lump in Anemone’s throat as she stepped back. Although he meant no harm, that “Tomorrow” heated Anemone’s body. The fight with Aronia crossed her mind. Anemone shook her head, trying to ignore the thought. And then Titania’s ultimatum played in her mind: 'After the Trials, YOU will be posted in Albion.' They shook her being to the core; her body wanted to crumble. Wrapping herself in her arms was the only thing she could do to keep herself together. A sudden deep breath filled her chest, and she exhaled.

  “Yeah, I bet.” Her voice cracked. “It’s impressive that every generation matures every summer.”

  “That’s ingenuity for ya!” he stretched his back. “We turned pests that swarmed into our woods into livestock for generations to come.”

  “I can’t believe years of domestication could manipulate such a feat.” Her words trailed off.

  Anemone’s blood pressure rose, trying not to stammer through that sentence. She did not care what came out of her mouth. Like a pot top keeping the pot from overflowing, her jaw clenched before trying to put on a smile. Hearing Mr. Willowbrow allow his sons to chase their futures was heartwarming. Practically bittersweet. Even if it was at the cost of his pride, he let them make their own choice. With her legs almost giving out on her, the need to sit down punched Anemone in the gut. She played off her desire to lean on a nearby tree with what grace she had left. Her hand gripped the tree as she slid down to sit on its roots.

  "It would be nice if she felt the same way," Anemone mumbled.

  It was hard to tell if those words left her lips or if they were said in her head. The pulse of her heart ached. No matter what anyone said, Titania always said her piece. If she could have it her way anyway, it was bound to happen. Her body grew heavier, and her smile wavered. Soon, Anemone squeezed both her knees between her hands.

  “You betcha! I can’t believe how massive the intake of silk right before the Four Winds Festival was! I hate to give them credit, but silk became a whole Tir-noNog industry after we streamlined our secrets.” Willowbrow puffed his chest.

  Anemone took a breath before speaking, “Does that mean sales were still good for you?”

  “Oh, don’t get me started on the sales! I still owe the Armada some gained taxes from last season,” he laughed. “You’d think the Council has sucked us dry enough. Everything already goes to the Arbor Magna… No offense.”

  “None taken, but you sound like Baccata,” Anemone chuckled.

  Mr. Willowbrow shook his head from side to side. “Speaking of Baccata… that fool still owes me 500 Aegis. He’s lucky Spriggan covered his bad habits. Muspell. If it wasn’t for your mentor covering for him, he might have gone under.”

  Then he paused. His face animated again. Shifting from a frown to a smile and back to a frown in a matter of seconds. Mr. Willowbrow had a glow of life beaming from him as he held back what sounded like an angry laugh. He stroked his belly, almost forgetting Anemone was even there. He had covered his face and wiped joyful tears. Anemone could only imagine what Baccata could have done. 500 Aegis was not cheap by any means. He dropped his hand and turned back to her, tilting his head.

  “By the way, where is Spriggs? I still remember when he had you doing rounds at my place with a timer.”

  Anemone’s eyes avoided his. “Yeah, Spriggan always made sure I could move faster than anyone. It was always a fun experience.”

  “Those pups had no chance! You got so fast that the entire District started asking you to help on their farms too!” He choked on his laugh.

  “Lauma, that was so much effort! And he wanted me to go even faster!!! Who does that!?” she groaned.

  Anemone dropped her head, hiding her flushed cheeks as she recalled Spriggan timing her to round up as much as possible within a specific time limit. There were times he had her challenge Roundleaf and Longleaf to races as kids. Occasionally, he had shortened the time to two minutes from five or ten minutes to round up a set amount. Whoever had the most won. At first, she was terrible, and they beat her at every opportunity. They mocked her for as long as she could remember. Anemone clicked her tongue with her face turning red. Back then, she threw her arms up and fumed out of her ears. But she never gave up. As time went on, she caught up and eventually passed them. Soon after, they lost interest. And when she grew older, he had her do it by herself. At some point, Anemone began helping others with scavenging as well, with or without him. That thought made her chuckle.

  "Oh, Spriggan… where are you? Are you leaving me behind, too?"

  Tir-noNog was changing, and it was amazing but scary. Anemone cared little for tradition. Seeing Willowbrow light up almost made her squirm. Spriggan also consistently ranted about holding the past dear. And listening to Willowbrow made her miss Spriggan. He had promised to talk to her before the written exam began, but after the night, Spriggan went missing.

  “I haven’t seen Spriggan since the festival ended…” Anemone held back her tears.

  Willowbrow rubbed his chin. “Usually, we have chats when he returns. I haven’t seen him at the festival either.”

  “He’s usually good with conjugal visits.” Anemone snarked, “I’m sure he’s fine.”

  Her eyes peered over her knees, looking at Mr. Willowbrow. His eyes widened before he shook his head. There was a faint smile on his face as he looked off into the distance. After a chuckle, Mr. Willowbrow took a seat next to her on a nearby tree root. His hand gently patted her back. Air slowly filled her chest, and she huffed.

  “I understand.” Willowbrow nodded vigorously. “My pups are old now! But that doesn’t mean you can’t miss someone. Those shared memories and moments make it hard not to see your loved ones. It reminds me of that time we tried to make an innards soup! It wasn’t perfect! But in those days, we’d find a hidden bombyx and make soup from the cocoon mush during hard times.”

  “Ahhh, yes, Cocooze, a true meal of the ages....” Anemone rubbed her stomach. “As Spriggan would say, 'Add peppers, roots, some herbs, and life is good!' He's so simple it hurts sometimes.”

  Fae coveted the larvae that hid long enough and spun their cocoons. Once fae found them, they became a traditional fae delicacy. In time, fae learned to feed them and keep them constantly spinning silk with years of cultivating these torso-sized worms. Their silk was priceless in Tir-noNog. It's why they had specialized tailors process Arbor Magna uniforms. So many competed for business, much like Mr. Willowbrow. Soon, he dwelt in his younger days of raising his children. Tir-noNog was rough on everyone, yet he had a smile. Even while he explained all the hurdles he experienced with those he cared about. When he and Rayla started their Bombyx nursery, only a few larvae could mature or reproduce fully.

  After more time had passed, the two began working together. Mr. Willowbrow told Anemone every story he had, and she listened to him as they searched for larvae or cocoons. Not more than an earshot away, she was close by. Whether she was up above searching for more or next to him stacking spools of silk, his words tugged at her chest. When he smiled, she followed, almost mesmerized by how positive he was during his struggles. She wanted to ask how he found joy in times of turmoil, but she could only listen. After a few hours, they separated. As they parted, her eyes softened, and the tension in her body dissipated. Then, Anemone moved to another zone to help other soldiers. Waving goodbye to Mr. Willowbrow.