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The trees at this place murmured amongst themselves, the ancient one laughing at the youngsters most of all. She was Miriam's mother too, or at least she thought so He could retain the Word for Miriam now, that it was her name, along with Jarod and Annalise and kind Cathy and Helen and Mother Joan and the others. The Words still didn't come out very well, for they hadn't gotten to that part of his mind, and never would, for he had taken too many of their dreams and they were stopping now. But it was enough to give him his dreams back, and that was indeed enough. And the sun, the lovely sun, although it hid behind rain clouds most of the time in this place. The trees told him the sun would come out again, it always did in its season. In this place it wasn't the sun and moon that chased each other and changed places, but the sun and the rain, and the forest said the season of the rain had only just begun. He had to learn to hear the seasons here, it was a different rhythm than delivery trucks but he would get used to it. Much less noisy, even with the chickens and the boy mindtalkers.
Another one was coming, finally leaving his mother and saying hello to the trees, although not with Words of course. The baby was in pain and so was his mother, crying out and distressing all the mindtalkers who had no choice but to hear. It would end soon and his mother would sing, the mindtalkers would teach him to mindtalk, and Jarod would teach him to really talk, and his brothers would teach him to run, and Tim would teach him to hear the trees. Miriam was the only other one who could feel the trees a little bit, who could let go of Words and see time and the land and the forest for what it really was. Which was funny, because she was a little part Jarod, and he couldn't hear the trees at all, although he did his best with his handicap.
The baby had come into the world now, exhausted and angry, but everyone else was overjoyed and relieved, and he would feel that joy and warm skin and would calm down. Tim could hear his own mother calling, a Wordless desire for him to come back and join them for the happy moment. So he did so, and sang a different song to the boy, one of the seasons and soil and delicious sun and roots, and no words at all.