Kiki curled up in the upper area of the tree, waiting patiently as she listened to the sounds of running water and rain, and the frustrated curses of her mother splashing below. It had rained and rained, and the water had invaded the tree that Kiunyki and her mother called home. For once, Kiunyki was glad that her friend Ujana and Uja's mother Padma were elsewhere, though she would have liked to have the older leaf girl nearby to hug. It was very bad here, and Kiki was sure that some of her things had been washed away by the running water. That was why she was all the way up in the upper rooms of the tree – so that she wouldn't be swept away either.

Another splash, another frustrated exclamation from below. ”Mama?” she called downstairs. Her mama was trying to get all the water out, armed with two buckets and a lot of bad words Kiki was not supposed to repeat. It was hard for her mama to handle both buckets, but she'd insisted on it. Mama never did anything halfway. But Kiki was worried about her. Mama might hurt herself or, worse, get swept away. What if Mama left her? ”Mama, are you okay?”

Her mother's reply was reassuring – she was just fine, sweetling. Kiki was to stay up there until her mama had stopped the water, because she would stop it. She would, roots take it! Kiki giggled as the reassurances devolved into a tirade of frustration at the water that kept flowing in. She loved her mother's energy and wisdom. The worrying didn't go away, of course - Kiunyki could never stop worrying about her wonderful, vibrant mother – but it was eased for the time being as she returned to her shelter beneath one of the curving branch-beams of their home.

The upper level was not immune from the water, which dribbled in from the occasional leak and crack in the wood, but it was not flooded as downstairs. No Kiunyki winced and giggled at another round of frustrated exclamations from her mother, It just flows downstairs. And made more work for her mother, but that was nothing that Kiki could help – she had tried sticking her mother's balls of cosmetic wax in the holes she could find in the tree's dark surface, but the wax was so dampened that they crumbled and fell apart, dying her hands a bright, festive red as they fell to the floor. Kiki knew her mother would never yell at her for such a thing, but it had still filled her with a mild dread when she had watched their ruined clumps bleed their pigments into the constant stream of rainwater.

Now, they were only pale, vaguely yellow lumps, devoid of their color but remaining, still, where they had fallen. She watched as the water dripped on them, drop by drop. And then something odd, an anomaly that had nothing to do with the rain or her mother's vigorous splashing below, appeared in the corner of her eye. It glowed and wiggled like a mirage, but did not vanish when Kiunyki looked at it curiously. In fact, it seemed to multiply. Small, glowing, wiggling things dripped into the room as if brought by the rain, squirming on the wet floor for a moment before writhing their luminescent way into the dryer corners.

Kiunyki stared at them as more arrived, entranced by their blinking colors and sudden appearance. They clustered together in balls in dry spots, flashing and crawling – Kiki could see their small legs touching everything around them, inspecting and investigating her world. She reached out to touch one, and started as it leaped away from her with a quick snapping of its body.

”Mama!” she called down, ”What are these?”

The splashing stopped. What were what, came the inquiry, followed by the sound of Kaalnia's feet splashing on the steps – her own curiousity was insatiable. They were illo, her mother explained after an amused moment, nudging one of the squirming clusters with a foot, and they usually lived in burrows and came out at night. They were what nondwa and kipepwa came from, and were completely harmless – Kiki didn't need to be afraid of them!

Kiki's ears vibrated with her mother's boisterous mirth and her adoring kiss even after Kaalnia had gone back to her task, but she didn't bother correcting her mother: she wasn't afraid of them. She trapped one of them, picking it up with her cupped hands and staring at it as it tried to escape through her fingers. It was beautiful, a gorgeous little creature that would become an even more gorgeous creature with time. She stroked its head, even as it recoiled, and smiled. She had been feeling lonely before, with Ujana gone and her mother busy downstairs, but the rain had brought her a present: with it's constant and intrusive water, it had carried in friends. Kiki found an appropriate box and slid the illo inside, stroking its head again and closing the lid. She laughed her own gentler, shyer version of her mother's laugh and hugged it close to her chest, watching the other illo squirm and dance in their mysterious dance of life.

The rain had brought her a new friend.