Melisara glanced outside the window as she packed, a brief sigh escaping her lips. It was winter already, with snow falling down softly past the window. This year she would not be wading through the snow here in Asphodel, building snowmares or throwing snowballs. She had considered it a month ago—cancelling her December trip to visit home for the Solstice, but she’d eventually discarded the idea, and not for the reason she’d thought it would be.She folded up her clothes, neatly arranging them in her rollaway suitcase. Warm-weather clothing she left in her dresser, alongside both of her bat plushies and her stationary. A few not-actually dirty clothes went in the hamper—artfully arranged so that a couple sleeves were poking out. She made her bed—with the pillows slightly rumpled. She couldn’t leave her pajamas behind—she’d already packed them—but she did leave both of her salamanders in their tank on her desk. Her friends would be taking care of them over the break. Really, the trick was leaving things neat enough that she didn’t feel bad leaving them behind, but messy enough to serve as a promise—I’ll be back. I won’t be gone for long. Just for Solstice, and then I’ll be back. She left small packages next to the tank. Tags attached to each one identified the recipient, with the added note: Do not open until Solstice!! Love, Sara. She’d hesitated about saying “love.” Was that appropriate? Would it be misinterpreted? She loved her friends—none more so than Maria and Neptune—but what would they make of it? Was she crossing boundaries? Was she disrespecting unspoken rules of interaction with friends? She wasn’t Eurosian—she was a Baphomet. A Bramblewood Baphomet. She didn’t want to leave a bad impression…
There were several other gifts as well, most of them thank-you gifts to other people around the school. She’d delivered most of them, but these…well, Maria and Neptune would be here. While she was gone. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold seeping in from the windowpanes. She’d already said good-bye this morning over breakfast. She’d be back in a week, she’d be back, but…
Sara sighed. Why was she getting so upset about this? It wasn’t for long, and they knew, they understood. There had been no backlash, no accusing glares that she was abandoning them. They understood—she had a family, and she needed to see them. For…well, for several reasons.
First, because it had been several months now since she had last seen them. She’d never been away from home for so long. She’d had homesickness when she first moved into the dorm. The idol of her family god sat next to the tank on the desk, the dish in front of it still full of the ash of burnt incense. When she first arrived at this school, she’d burned incense every time she’d felt homesick. Every time a tree reminded her of her nimble little brother scrambling over branches, or some smell from the kitchen reminded her of how her aunts and auncles always seemed to be baking at home. Baking…wasn’t something Sara was good at. She had other talents. And sometimes, although she’d never admit it, not even to her family, the sight of so many different races had served only to make her feel homesick. The sound of someone walking up the stairs, soft and rubbery, not hard and clopping, the swishing of long tails, glowing eyes and long ears. Everything had been different, and she, well, she’d felt alone. For the first time in her life, she’d felt like a stranger, an outsider. Even the other Baphomets were not like her. It had been a terrifying experience, and it had been recent enough that she still burned to go home.
Second, she needed to go home so that her friends and family back home could see her. Drega. She hadn’t seen Drega since August. She’d barely even thought of her childhood friend, and the sudden memory of warm summers and rainy-day games sent a piercing pain through Sara’s heart. How could she have forgotten? How could she have forgotten someone she loved? And yet, memories of Drega were turning faded and stale in her head, as if they were sweet cider going off. Could she be losing memory? The ability to love? Even worse, had she ever really cared about Drega, if she could lose her memories of them so easily? She didn’t know. It seemed like every possibility was more frightening than the last, and she knew that her family would be even more worried than she was. Her father had tried to put it gently—“You’ll meet new people, you’ll learn new things, you’ll experience things you’ve never experienced before, and you’ll grow like a mighty oak. You’ll be stronger for everything new you’ll see and do”—but it had been her Auncle Lysaer who had put it more memorably: “Melisara won’t be coming back. Someone will come back who’s like her, but it won’t be here. People change in foreign parts. She’ll come back different.” They’d been saying it to their youngest grandchild as explanation for why the child would not be going to the Academy, but the memory of it still stung. She had to go home. To prove Lysaer wrong, that she could come back—and to prove it to herself.
The final reason had come in the form of a letter from her parent, Saram. It was written in her parent’s usual mellow prose, where emotions were soft and muted, implied rather than outright stated. Apparently, her grandfather had thrown quite a temper tantrum upon finding out about Above, and as such, his health was worse now than ever. Saram had hinted that they weren’t sure how many more Winter Solstices Grandfather would ever have. He needed his family at home—especially since there were now Daydreams “running amok,” as he had probably put it. He wouldn’t feel safe with her at school with them. She needed to go home—and remind him that she was strong, even if she didn’t believe she needed to be.
Because she had changed. For the better. She’d met people her grandfather would never have approved of, she’d taken a role in a major change in the political landscape of Below, she’d made friends that she wanted to keep and learned things they never would have taught back home. She’d met hybrids of all races, and Chimeras who were fierce and loyal—nothing at all like she’d been taught. She had come to school telling herself she would love other races, without really knowing if she would. But now? Now she knew, she knew that she liked these other people, and that their cultures were interesting and worthy. She was even planning to learn how to hold her breath for a long time—Myles had said that Grimms and Nixie were courted with pearls harvested from below the waves. She was going to go pearl diving…someday. She looked over at a pair of bracelets, one aqua-colored, the other bluish grey. Someday.
She zipped her bag shut and put a sweater and leash on Pestilence. “C’mon, Pestilence,” she said. “It’s tahm to go. We’ll be back. Don’t you worry.” She smiled at the empty room. “Y’all ain’t seen the last of me.”
