06/17/2026
Under The Willow Oak
Chapter 1
Kaelin was tired.
Not the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep fixed. This kind sat behind her eyes and crept into her shoulders, settling deep into her joints. It didn’t go away.
By mid-morning, she was already out of patience.
That had been happening a lot lately.
She stood at the edge of the Young Circle, watching instead of stepping in.
Three children argued over the same set of blocks. One had already started crying. Another paced near the edge of the clearing, humming louder and louder, her sun-kissed hands pressed tight over her ears. Off to the side, a basket had been dumped and abandoned.
Across the space, Doo Dusky Tali was kneeling beside one of the children, speaking quietly. Near the covered structure, Doo Dusky Rena gathered materials, keeping an eye on two others drifting too far toward the river.
Kaelin didn’t move right away.
A few years ago, she would have stepped in before it got this far. Redirected. Structured it. Made it work.
She had been good at that.
Back then, she worked with the older children—the ones preparing to leave the quiet village of Elatseyi for formal learning in the larger city of Ghigau. Four and five years old. Ready for more.
She understood that work.
This was different.
“Doo Dusky Kaelin.”
She looked up.
Tali nodded toward the pacing child. “I’ve got him. Can you take over there?”
Tali and Kaelin had been working together in this group for nearly two years. Though Tali was about two decades older, she still moved with steady energy and quiet optimism.
“Yeah,” Kaelin said. “I’ll get her.”
She crossed the clearing. Her knees ached and popped as she crouched a few feet away, watching.
After a moment, she spoke.
“Hey.”
The child didn’t look at her. The humming got louder.
Kaelin stayed where she was.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m here.”
The child turned slightly, still pacing.
Kaelin watched her for a moment longer.
“Do you want a squeeze?”
No answer.
The humming continued.
Kaelin shifted closer, folding her legs into a crisscross position as she sat.
“I’m going to help your body calm down,” she said. “Okay?”
The child didn’t move away.
Kaelin moved slowly, stepping in behind her just enough to reach around without crowding. She placed her hands along the child’s upper arms, applying steady, even pressure. Not quick. Not light. Consistent.
The humming didn’t stop right away.
But it changed.
Lower. Less sharp.
“I’ve got you,” Kaelin said quietly.
The child’s movements slowed. Her hands loosened from her ears, drifting down until her fingers caught the hem of her shirt.
“You’re okay,” Kaelin said. “You’re right here.”
After a few moments, the tension in her body eased.
Kaelin gently released her and stayed close.
“Do you want to sit?” she asked.
The child didn’t answer, but she didn’t start pacing again.
Kaelin stayed beside her, waiting.
Across the clearing, something crashed.
The blocks.
Now someone else was crying.
Kaelin closed her eyes for a second, then stood.
She loved teaching.
She knew that.
But this—
This wasn’t where she was supposed to be.
Nap time was usually when it hit her.
When everything finally got quiet, her mind didn’t.
The children lay scattered across the clearing on their mats. Most were asleep. A few shifted now and then, soft sounds, nothing that needed her yet.
The wind moved lightly through the trees. The stream nearby ran steady. From across the grounds, the low humming of Doo Dusky Tali carried through the air.
Kaelin sat with her aching back against the trunk of a Willow Oak, two children sleeping beside her.
The sun filtered through the branches, warm across her golden skin and catching in strands of her sandy brown hair.
She let herself sit in it for a moment.
This was usually when it started.
She didn’t choose the memories.
They just came.
Totshuwa.
The doorway.
Luna at the table.
Two years ago, she stood there with her bag still on her shoulder. The door had already been open when she arrived.
Luna sat at the table with her grandmother, leaning over something. Jasper sat on the floor nearby, flipping through a stack of cards.
Neither of them came over.
“Hey, guys,” Kaelin said.
Luna glanced up. “Hey.”
Jasper didn’t look up.
“You ready?” Kaelin asked.
Luna hesitated.
“We were going to finish this first.”
Kaelin nodded. “Okay.”
She stepped inside and set her bag down near the wall.
“What are you working on?” she asked.
“Just school stuff,” Luna said.
Kaelin stood there a moment.
“Well… don’t take too long. We still have to get back.”
“We were thinking about staying tonight,” Luna said.
Kaelin blinked. “Tonight?”
“Yeah. Just this once. It’s easier.”
Kaelin looked at Jasper.
“Jasper?”
He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“It’s our week together,” Kaelin said.
“I know,” Luna said. “It just makes more sense right now. I need a break.”
Kaelin nodded slowly.
“Okay. Then tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe,” Luna said.
Kaelin paused.
“Maybe?”
“We don’t want to keep going back and forth,” Luna said. “It’s a lot.”
Kaelin picked up her bag.
“Just let me know, send me a crow” she said.
“Okay.”
“Bye, bud.”
Jasper lifted his hand slightly without looking up.
Kaelin stepped outside.
The air felt cooler.
Quieter.
She knew, even then, this was the beginning of something she couldn’t stop.
She stood there for a second, then walked back down the path alone.
The memory faded the same way it always did—without finishing.
By the end of the day, the learning space slowly emptied.
Families came in from the path in small groups. Some on horseback, slowing as they reached the clearing. Others with carts, wheels creaking over the packed dirt. Some came on foot, children running ahead before being called back.
One child climbed up behind his mother onto her horse, arms wrapped tightly around her.
Another was lifted into the back of a cart, already half-asleep, a blanket pulled up around him.
Two siblings left on foot, one holding the other’s hand.
“Thank you, Doo Dusky Kaelin,” a parent said.
Kaelin nodded. “See you tomorrow.”
When they were gone, the clearing settled.
The wind moved through the trees again. The stream was easier to hear.
Kaelin walked back through the space. Under the covered structure, shelves held baskets and materials. A few things had been left out.
She picked them up one by one and put them back.
When she finished, she crossed to where Selu was tied near the edge of the path.
Selu lifted her head slightly.
“Hey,” Kaelin said, running a hand along her neck.
Selu was a beautiful mare, about fifteen hands tall, her golden-brown coat patterned in a way that caught the light.
Walela had named her.
Selu.
Corn.
Because she once decided her coat looked like corn on the cob and refused to call her anything else.
The name had stayed.
Walela was her three-year-old daughter.
She would be waiting.
Kaelin untied the reins and pulled herself into the saddle.
Chapter 2
It was a short ride—eight minutes.
The path curved away from the clearing, packed and familiar beneath Selu’s hooves. Trees lined the edges, then opened into sunlight.
Kaelin let Selu set the pace.
Her mind stayed close this time.
Supper.
The garden.
What needed to be picked.
Simple things.
Things she could handle.
Ahead, the smaller learning space came into view.
Walela's learning space was called Tohi Learning Space, and it was very prestigious in the community.
Tohi's campus was beautiful. It employed a full-time gardener whose sole responsibility was to tend to the grounds. That alone would have been enough. But he didn't stop there. Often, he would pause in his work to give the children small, impromptu lessons about plant life—pointing out new growth, explaining how things changed with the seasons, letting them dig their hands into the soil beside him.
He didn't have to do any of that.
None of them did.
That was just the kind of place Tohi was. People showed up for their roles, but they also gave more of themselves than was expected.
Kaelin tied Selu to one of the trees just outside the learning space and walked to go get Walela.
As she approached, she could hear her daughter before she actually saw her.
"But that's not fair!"
Kaelin smiled slightly.
That was Walela.
Every bit of three years old and already full of feeling.
As Kaelin reached the edge of the playground, she saw Doo Dusky Alma crouched down, speaking softly to Walela.
Kaelin stopped there, just watching.
She admired how the Doo Duskies at Tohi handled the children. They were loving, calm, and patient in a way that felt steady and natural.
They didn't rush.
They didn't raise their voices.
They met the children where they were.
And they didn't have to be that way.
Kaelin knew that.
After a moment, Doo Dusky Alma stood and noticed her.
She smiled and waved.
"Walela, your mom is here. Go get your things."
Walela turned, and the biggest, brightest smile lit up her face.
"Mama!"
She took off running, arms wide, feet kicking up dust as she crossed the space.
Kaelin barely had time to brace herself before Walela collided into her, wrapping herself tightly around her.
"Mama! You came back!"
Kaelin laughed softly, wrapping her arms around her daughter.
"I always come back, love bug," she said. "Now go get your things."
Walela spun and ran back just as fast as she had come, already calling out to Doo Dusky Alma about something Kaelin couldn't quite make out.
Kaelin watched her go, that same small smile still resting on her face.
Children were scattered across the grounds, some climbing, some digging, others gathered beneath a large shade tree where one of the Doo Duskies sat reading aloud. Near the gardens, the groundskeeper knelt beside three children, showing them something in the soil.
One little boy immediately stuck both hands into the dirt.
Atsadi laughed softly.
"Some lessons have to be felt before they can be understood."
The boy looked completely unbothered.
Kaelin smiled.
It was hard not to.
There was something about Tohi that made people want to be better.
The buildings were simple. The grounds weren't extravagant. There were learning spaces elsewhere in the territory with more resources and larger campuses.
But none of them felt quite like this.
Tohi felt intentional.
Every person seemed to genuinely want to be there.
Even the children.
Especially the children.
A few moments later, Doo Dusky Alma made her way over.
"Good afternoon, Kaelin."
"Good afternoon."
Alma glanced toward the storage building where Walela had disappeared.
"She's had a good day."
"I'm glad to hear that."
Alma smiled.
"She helped plant onions this morning."
"Did she?"
"Oh yes. She worked very hard."
Alma laughed softly.
"Atsadi spent part of the morning explaining why onions were worth growing."
Kaelin smiled.
"How did that go?"
"He told her that onions teach patience because all the important growing happens underground where you can't see it."
"That sounds like something a sage would say."
"It does."
"He also told her that sometimes the things that make us cry turn out to make supper better."
Kaelin laughed.
"And let me guess, Walela wasn't convinced."
"Oh, not at all."
"She informed everyone that onions were 'pee-yewski,' worms were wonderful, and that she had decided she would only plant flowers in her own garden."
"And lavender!" Walela shouted from somewhere inside the storage building.
Both women turned toward the building.
Alma nodded solemnly.
"And lavender."
"Of course," Kaelin said.
"We spent nearly ten minutes discussing it."
"I believe that."
A loud crash came from inside the storage building.
Both women turned toward the doorway.
A moment later Walela's voice called out.
"I found my bag!"
Alma raised an eyebrow.
"What else did you find?"
Silence.
Kaelin bit the inside of her cheek.
"Walela."
Another pause.
"I found a bucket too."
"Did the bucket fall over?" Alma asked.
"...maybe."
"Then please go take care of it."
A dramatic sigh drifted out from the building.
"But I already found my bag."
"I know," Alma said. "But if something gets knocked over, we help put it back so the next person can use the space too."
Silence.
Then a quieter voice.
"Oh."
A few moments passed.
Something scraped across the floor.
Then another sound.
Finally Walela appeared in the doorway carrying her woven bag and an empty wooden bucket.
"I fixed it."
Alma smiled.
"Thank you for taking care of our space."
Walela nodded seriously.
Then she leaned toward Kaelin and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"It wasn't really my fault."
"The bucket was definitely inconvenient. I'm glad you fixed it."
Walela nodded.
Then she paused, thinking.
A confused look crossed her face.
She squinted up at her mother.
"Mama?"
"Yes?"
"What's in-con-vee-ent?"
Kaelin laughed.
Alma covered her mouth to hide a smile.
"It means something that makes things harder."
Walela considered that carefully.
"The bucket was inconvenient."
"It certainly was."
Walela seemed pleased with her new word.
Then she pointed toward the storage building.
"And onions are pee-yewski."
"Those are two very different things," Alma said.
Walela thought about that for a moment.
"I know."
Kaelin untied Selu's reins.
The mare shifted her weight patiently.
"Mama, can Purple ride?"
"Purple can ride."
Walela grinned.
Carefully, Kaelin lifted Walela onto Selu's back.
Walela immediately settled herself in front of the saddle, one arm wrapped protectively around Purple.
Kaelin swung herself up behind her.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Ready."
With a gentle squeeze of her legs, Kaelin urged Selu forward.
The mare stepped onto the path, her hooves making soft thuds against the packed earth.
For a few moments they rode in comfortable silence.
Walela held Purple carefully in her lap.
Then she gasped.
"Mama."
"What?"
"Purple has to be watered."
Kaelin smiled.
"Yes, she does."
"What if she gets thirsty before we get home?"
"I think she'll survive the ride."
Walela considered this.
"Okay."
A few moments later she looked down at the lavender plant again.
"Mama?"
"Yes?"
"Can plants ride horses every day?"
"Probably not every day."
"Oh."
Walela frowned.
"Maybe Purple can."
"Maybe Purple can."
That answer seemed acceptable.
The path curved through a stand of trees before opening into a wide meadow. Wildflowers swayed in the afternoon breeze. Several horses grazed behind a low fence nearby.
Walela pointed.
"Look!"
"I see them."
"Do you think they know Selu?"
Kaelin glanced toward the grazing horses.
"They might."
Walela thought about that.
"Maybe they're cousins."
"Cousins?"
"Yeah."
Walela nodded confidently.
"They all look horsey."
Kaelin laughed.
"That's a fair point."
Walela beamed.
Then, without warning, she leaned her head back against Kaelin's chest.
It was such a small thing.
So ordinary.
But Kaelin felt herself relax.
Just a little.
The tension she'd carried all day loosened around the edges.
Walela pointed toward the sky.
"Mama."
"Yes?"
"That cloud looks like a chicken."
Kaelin looked up.
It looked absolutely nothing like a chicken.
"I think you might be right."
Walela smiled.
"I know."
The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, warming her shoulders.
Walela adjusted the lavender pot in her lap.
"Mama?"
"Yes?"
"Purple likes Selu."
Kaelin smiled.
"They seem to be getting along."
Walela nodded as though this confirmed something very important.
For a while they rode in silence.
The path wound between tall grasses and patches of wildflowers. Bees drifted lazily from bloom to bloom. Somewhere in the distance a hawk called.
Walela pointed suddenly.
"Look!"
A rabbit darted through the grass before disappearing beneath a bush.
"It was fast," Walela said.
"It was."
"Purple likes rabbits."
"Then she's in the right place."
The answer seemed perfectly reasonable to Walela.
A few minutes later she looked down at the lavender plant again.
"Mama?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think Purple is happy?"
Kaelin glanced down at the small plant.
"She has sunshine, water, and somebody who loves her very much."
Walela thought about that.
Then she nodded.
"She probably is."
The path curved around a meadow dotted with yellow and purple flowers.
Walela stared out at them.
"I want flowers everywhere."
"Everywhere?"
"Everywhere."
Kaelin laughed.
"What about vegetables?"
Walela thought for a moment.
"Vegetables can stay."
"Oh, good."
"But not onions."
"Not onions?"
Walela shook her head firmly.
"Or peppers."
Kaelin nodded.
"Anything else?"
Walela considered this carefully.
"Brussel sprouts."
"Those too?"
"They taste angry."
Kaelin laughed hard enough that Selu flicked an ear backward in surprise.
Walela grinned.
Clearly pleased with herself.
