As Lydia passed Beckett their "canteen", a cowbell rang throughout the valleys and hills, a warm golden sound that rolled over the dips of the land, filling the space.

"Dinner!" Beckett tucked the pinecone-hedgehog between his teeth, began to scurry down the tree, then stopped. He looked up at her, a sudden thought occurring, and spat the hedgehog out into his hand. "Are you gonna come?"

"Ah," Lydia rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away. "Should I?"

Beckett shrugged, tucking the hedgehog into his back pocket. "There are so many of us, Mom won't notice. Dad prob'ly won't either."

She glanced to the right, away from the Honeybee farm, where the purple-roofed town clustered. "I don't know if I can..."

"Just come," Beckett said, pulling her hand. "Just for dinner. Then you can go to bed at home."

"I really shouldn't, but I'll walk you down the tree," she smiled, sliding her hand out of his grip. "I've got to go find my grandmother."

"Is she the lady who drove you here?" Beckett slowly lowered himself down to the next branch.

Lydia crashed from limb to limb, pushing leaves out of her way as she skidded down the trunk at precarious speed. "No. That was Mrs. Pomatter. She's nice, but she's pretty lazy."

From below, she helped Beckett to the next leafy bough, holding his arm carefully. "So who's your grandmother?"

"She lives in Wellspring. The town, not the county," Lydia guided Beckett around a knotty branch. "Careful, that one's rotting."

"So you're going back?"

Lydia nodded. "Mhm."

"Do you want to go back?"

Lydia gritted her teeth, squeezing his arm a little tighter. "Mhm."

Beckett, wise for an eight year old, stopped asking questions. He liked quiet anyway.

He hopped down the last branch, landing in the soft dirt, and brushed off his pants. "You're going to come back?"

Lydia hung from a branch, with one arm, dangling like a carefree pirate on the stern of her ship. She swung close to him, the scent of pine and something foreign, salty, washing over him, her brown eyes filling his sight with mocha-coloured twinkles.

She kissed his forehead. "You can bet."

"Are you going to come down?" he looked up at her, head tilted.

"I'm going to climb back up and make sure you get home safe," she pulled herself onto the wide branch, resting on crossed arms. Her foot dangled down like a twitching tail, switching back and forth. "I'll watch you from the skies."

"My lookout?" Beckett was pleased to have someone watch over him. She would see his adventures, and he would be a little speck, a bug-sized explorer.

"Exactly. And you're the adventurer now," she took her bag from him, swinging it up onto a branch. "Here."

She handed him the plastic water bottle and his rolled-up magazines. He tucked the magazines and the "canteen" under one arm.

"Careful when you go back. Don't fall into any muddy places and ruin your magazines," she said, brown eyes winking. "And drink before you're thirsty. Don't wait until you're dying before you have any."

"I will," Beckett tugged his shirt down firmly. "I'll be safe."

"Good," she reached down and smoothed his hair down. "Don't be too long. Your mom must be worried."

"I'll be okay," Beckett smiled up at her. Lydia smiled back, black hair tumbling down her shoulders.

"See you tomorrow!" she waved, a panther in her perch, watching him walk steadily back the way they came.

He turned, eyes wide. "Wait! How will you find me?"

"I'll find you," she promised, her brown eyes deep.

Beckett believed her. "Okay. See you tomorrow."

He turned one last time to see her go, but she had already clambered up the tree, her beat up sneakers vanishing out of sight.

Beckett made his way back, through the path they had wandered together, following the bent grass that made a shadowy path through the waist-high rushes, tamped down by their footsteps. He followed the ghosts of the past, treading their footsteps just as he had minutes before, a new person somehow.

The forest passed by like a dream, hazy dappled light growing dimmer and softer around the edges as the sun began to roll downwards. Creatures of the night began to stir, bats fluttering their wings in preparation to flap through the skies, frogs beginning their crisp, wooden calls. Loons in their far away lakes howled a lonely cry, and from the trees, tired chickadees twittered in response.

By the stream, where Beckett stopped to fill his adventurer's canteen, a dark tube of lipgloss lay in the dirt, illuminated in the mud with the spotty light that seeped through the trees. It was Lydia's, Beckett remembered, and he stooped to pick it up. He would give it to her tomorrow. He curled his fingers around the gloss, stoppered the water bottle, and picked his way across the stream, hopping from rock to rock.

"Adventurers can be lonely," he said to himself, landing on the other side of the stream, the lipgloss warm in his palm. "I suppose that's why they like to have lookouts."

A breeze gusted through the trees, rattling the leaves and shivering the branches. Beckett shivered, too, drawing his arms close about himself, holding the precious water bottle and magazines to his chest. The sun was slowly sinking over the tops of the trees, down to its bed beneath the crust of the earth. The whole world was getting ready for bed too, exhaling in a soft last gust of energy before the lights went off for the night. It left him with a hollow, empty feeling, much like the feeling one gets when a friend leaves after long, golden hours of playing together.

Something poked him, his back pocket prickling. Beckett reached down and drew out a pinecone, with a hair tie and a string wrapped around it. His hedgehog. The little point resembled a nose, and Beckett could make out faint outlines of wise, kindly brown eyes and a soft smile just behind it. Perhaps it was the setting sun, perhaps it was bleary eyes, but Beckett could've sworn the little hedgehog winked.

"Not so lonely," he remembered, turning to see the towering top of the trees, where the large oak spread its grand leaves, and where a brown-eyed girl sat as his lookout. Beckett smiled, and waved at the girl and the oak, then pattered deeper into the woods.

𓆩♡𓆪

The Honeybee farmhouse was still bathed in the sunset's gold, but the Tudor-styled homestead next to it was swathed in shadow as Beckett climbed up the front steps, pushing through the screen door and entering the Honeybee home.

Mara and Charithra were setting the massive wooden table as Beckett pulled his shoes off, glass cups and smooth silver forks clinking as they were placed. He could see them through the arch of the mudroom, could smell the warm fragrance of yeast and salted meat. Maisie, from the oven, pulled a fresh, steaming loaf of bread onto her lap and wheeled to the table, setting the bread before Mara's seat.

"Just in time for dinner, love," Mara said to him brightly, folding a napkin into a neat square, then resting a fork atop it. "Wash up, then come help your sisters set the table."

"Okay," Beckett toddled off, through the kitchen, and into the hallway. To the left lay his room, as well as Maisie's and Abdel's, and to the right was the living room and the sunroom.

Beckett went to the left, pushing open the door to his room. The walls were a soft, pond blue, and the bedspread was a darker shade of azure. Yellow ducks stood guard at every corner, the largest of which lit the room from Beckett's small desk, a sentry with bright purpose. Stuffed animals reigned the mattress, but the windows were ruled by wilder things. While his quarters were small, the window was large, and on the sill lay several little item, collected over the years. A smooth white pebble, glittering geodes, and fragile butterfly wings in glass boxes gathered among the items in the window. In the centre, Beckett placed his hedgehog, and gave it a comforting pat on the head.

"Welcome to your new home," Beckett said, adjusting the pinecone so it could see the sun set over Beckett's Hill. "It might be loud and scary at first, but you'll like it. Everyone's nice. And if you don't, we can try again tomorrow."

His sombre welcome finished, and once he placed the water bottle upon his nightstand, and the lipgloss in his drawer, Beckett left his soft blue room and washed his hands in the first floor bathroom. Once dry, he made his way back to the kitchen, and ran into Abdel on the way there.

"Go exploring today, Beck?" Abdel asked kindly, ruffling Beckett's blond curls.

Beckett nodded. He didn't want to tell them, not quite yet. Lydia felt like a secret, a safe one, that he could keep for a little while longer, just to himself. She would meet them all one day, but for now, she was just his. His lookout.

"Glad to hear it," Abdel smiled. "Race you to the kitchen?"

Beckett waited for the countdown. Three, two, one, GO! and was off like a rocket, banging into hallways lined with framed photos and macaroni artwork, tripping over the blue embroidered rug, and stumbling into the kitchen.

"I won!" he screeched, breathless with laughter, running straight for Mara's leg. He clamped onto her, hugging her knee tightly. "I won!"

Abdel wheezed, leaning on his knees as he laughed, panting. "You won, you won," he conceded, wiping his forehead. "All that adventuring is giving you strong legs, Beck."

Beckett grinned up at Mara. "I beat Abdel."

She cupped his cheek, her hand bringing to his nose the scent of lemon verbena soap and buttermilk. "What a strong kid. I always knew you'd beat him one day."

"Bet I'll win tomorrow," Abdel laughed, taking a pile of plates from Maisie, dealing them around the table.

Beckett shrugged. "We'll see."

The room tittered, filling as the dinner bell's siren song coaxed more and more ravenous sailors its way. Arlo's feet were barely audible on the stairs, probably putting away some last minute things before dinner. Julian came through the door, straight into the kitchen, picking up Mara in a bear hug. Abram slipped through the entryway and headed straight for the back pantry, spotting the bread on the table, and a little ow from the halls told its listeners that Fiona had bumped into a wall while reading again. The Honeybee kitchen filled quickly with smiles and lively conversation.

"Beckett's gotten a swagger while we were all gone!" Julian crowed, pretending to box Beckett's tummy, growling with playful ferocity. Beckett giggled, batting his hands away, burying his face in Mara's leg.

"Come now, Duckling," Mara pried him off, leading him to his chair. "Sit. Would you like to say grace today?"

"Aw, Mom, Beckett takes so long to pray," Fiona protested, looking up from their book as she wandered in. "I'm famished."

"Wordly Wise?" Maisie grimaced. "I remember those days. Spell exhausted."

"Easy. E-X-H-A—" Fiona began.

"Mom, do we have any old butter? Or should I take a new stick out, because I can't find any," Abram called from the pantry, sorting through boxes of crackers and cans of tuna carefully.

"It's right on the table, Abe," Mara called back, sweeping a few missed crumbs down onto the floor. "Charithra, fetch Aaron, will you?"

"He's been missing since lunch," Maisie offered. "I don't know where he went."

Julian sighed, trying to calm his annoyance. "Anyone know where Aaron went?"

"He's likes the computer place," Fiona said, blushing as eyes turned to her.

"The huh?" Beckett blurted.

"You mean the internet cafe?" Abe asked kindly from the pantry.

"Very good, Fi," Maisie nodded. "Aaron likes to be in town, but he knows he's got to be back for dinner, right?"

"He should be," Charithra muttered, towelling off wet cups.

"Look at my triangle!" Beckett cried, pulling Abdel over. "See?"

"That's a pretty good triangle, bud," Abdel leaned closer to inspect it. "It's got some nice sides."

Fiona glanced over. "Beckett— My fork—" they said haltingly, grabbing for it. Beckett shouted, drawing it away.

"Duck, please don't yell, your sister just wants their fork back. Ask for it back, Fiona," Mara said, stopping the kitchen timer seconds before it rang, then pulling a golden-brown chicken from the oven. "Nicely, please."

Fiona huffed. "Can I get my fork back, Beckett. Please."

He handed it back reluctantly. "Now I can't make a triangle."

"You could make a line," Abe suggested, snatching up his own fork too, and setting down the butter. "Don't take other people's forks, Beck."

"I just wanna make a triangle!"

"Make one after, Duck," Mara said, setting the chicken down, then glaring at the table spread before her. "Goodness, what am I forgetting?"

Arlo's footsteps thundered down the stairs and into the kitchen, hair a windswept mess. "I can't find Aaron. Think he ran away?"

Julian sighed, sliding up from the table. "I'll find him."

"He's probably in the barn!" Maisie chimed after him, handing Fiona a pitcher full of water. "Pour that for your siblings, will you?"

"'Kay," Fiona said, sloshing water all down Mara's chair. "Oops."

"Aw, Fiona," Maisie sighed, more entertained than annoyed.

"Maisie, come sit," Charithra called, shifting her chair to the side to make room.

Maisie wheeled into the gap, tossing Fiona a towel rag as she passed. "Here, Fi."

"Are we all seated?" Abdel asked, looking down the table. Arlo snuck a piece of crispy chicken skin. "Arlo, quit it."

"Dad's not here," Beckett peeped.

"Or Aaron," Fiona added, mopping up the water.

"I meant besides them," Abdel explained patiently.

"Abe, sit down, I'm starving," Arlo demanded.

Abe's gaze turned stormy. Instead of sitting down, he walked back to the pantry.

"Quit bossing him around," Charithra sniped. Arlo opened his mouth to respond, but Maisie quickly placed her hand on his, a warm and comforting weight. He swallowed his retort sourly.

Mara pushed through both of them, setting a huge platter of devilled eggs on the table, then froze. She smacked her forehead, leaving an imprint of flour in her hair. "I forgot the salad."

"We don't have vegetables!" Maisie laughed. "What happened to our food groups?"

"Yay! No vegetables!" Fiona and Beckett cheered. Abe tousled their hair in victory, leaning over the table precariously. Abdel pulled him back into his seat by the back of his shirt.

"I'll make it," Charithra stood quickly, rushing to the fridge.

"Don't put corn!"

"Or onions."

"Yes onions!"

"No onions."

"I hate onions."

"I like onions."

"Enough from the peanut gallery!" Charithra said tensely, shooting them a glare.

Beckett leaned over to whisper to Fiona, "We're peanuts."

She giggled into her cup.

"Found Aaron!" Julian pushed through the kitchen, Aaron dragging his feet behind him. "He was in the loft."

"Did you find any rats?" Beckett asked.

Aaron rolled his eyes, ignoring him, heading for his seat.

Beckett sank down. Fiona hugged him with one arm sadly.

"Sit, Aaron," Mara urged. "Honey, can you help Charithra with the salad?"

Julian kissed Mara's cheek as he passed. "Okay, Chi, let's get this salad cooking."

"You can't cook a salad, Dad," Beckett said.

"Watch me!" Julian pretended to throw the bowl of lettuce onto the stove and fire up the gas. His made a hissing sound behind his teeth, miming sparks and raging fire. Fiona and Beckett squealed.

Aaron sat between Abe and Arlo, headphones blasting music from an MP3 player. Arlo pulled one side, twisting it and jamming his ear into the soft, round mic.

"This is crap!" he yelled over the music.

Aaron grabbed it back. "Shut the hell up."

Fiona gasped. "Aaron said a curse word!" He glared at her.

Abe put his ear to the headphones, which were loud enough to hear from a few inches away. "Def Leppard? AC/DC is better."

"Stay out of my space!" Aaron growled, yanking it back, and standing up from the table with a screech.

Mara pushed him gently back down by the shoulder. "Dinnertime first, please. You know the rules."

Aaron fumed silently. Arlo and Abe exchanged looks of naughty camaraderie over his shoulder.

"Leave Aaron alone, please," Mara said pointedly at them. "He asked you to mind his space. Don't disrespect that."

Abe flushed, chastised. Arlo sank down in his chair, kicking the wooden floor with a toe.

"Salad's done!" Julian cheered, pushing through the two of them, placing a large metal bowl bursting with greenery on the table. Fiona and Beckett groaned.

"I don't like onions," Beckett grumbled.

Charithra sat down again next to Maisie, brushing her hands clean off lettuce scraps. Julian and Mara sat at either end of the table, dusting their clothes off and straightening their cups. Mara let out a full breath, scanning the table one last time.

"You'd think this would get easier the more we do it," she joked, smoothing her hair back.

Julian winked at her across the way. "All part of the chaos, honey."

"Well, I think that's everything. Beckett, did you want to say grace?" Mara asked, squeezing his hand gently. The whole table turned to look at him, and Beckett felt himself shrink. His knees were soft and wobbly, and his palms began to sweat.

"You don't have to," Mara said quietly. "But you gotta tell me yes or no, Duckling."

He took a deep breath. Shyly, he shook his head. "No, thank you."

"That's okay," she smiled, kissing the top of his head. "Maisie, why don't you pray?"

"Sure, Mara!" Maisie beamed. She closed her eyes, and the rest of the table bowed their heads. "Dear Lord, thank you for this food, and thank you for this family. We are so grateful for the opportunity to have a big family, even when we squabble."

Some of the kids snickered. Julian laughed the loudest.

"Help us to be better to each other, and give us a good day tomorrow. In your Son's name we pray, amen."

"FOOD," Beckett bellowed, and snatched right for the bread.

Fiona followed suit, snatching up a handful of roasted potatoes, nibbling on them thoughtfully. "Mm, garlic."

Abe and Arlo were feasting hungrily, ravenous. Between them, Aaron clicked through his MP3, stormily ignoring the rest of the table. Julian cleared his throat, and Aaron turned up the music with vengeance.

Maisie and Charithra passed each other dishes, scooping out sauces for each other. Maisie dolloped some hot sauce on Charithra's potatoes, swirling the creamy mixture with an artistic flourish.

"Life is beauty," she winked. Charithra gave her a grudging, fond smile, and dug in.

Mara scooped Beckett a healthy amount of salad. "You can pick out half of the onions, okay?"

"Why do I gotta eat all of them?" he groaned. "They're so ick. I can taste them for days in my mouth."

"That means you aren't brushing good, kiddo," Julian teased from the other side, tearing into a chicken wing.

Mara chuckled. "He's got a point, Duck."

Beckett stabbed an onion, looking at it with distaste. "Onions are stupid."

"Onions are fantastic," Abdel corrected, passing Mara the bread platter. "Did you know, when explorers went to new places, they always ate onions?"

Beckett perked up at that. "Explorers? Why?"

"Because onions are pretty much the same any place you go," Abdel sliced into his chicken breast with a neat cut. "They look similar, smell the same. So explorers in the wild would find wild onions, and know they were safe to eat. Other foods they recognised, like mushrooms, were too likely to be poisonous."

Beckett looked at his onion slices, reappraising them. "Hm."

Mara pretended not to watch as Beckett ate every single onion on his plate. She smiled approvingly at Abdel, who blushed softly behind the salad bowl.

Across the table, Maisie was quizzing Fiona on more spelling practice.

"Spell illuminate," she challenged, spreading butter on a thick slice of bread, sprinkling salt over the top.

"I-L-L-U-M-I-N-A-T-E, illuminate," Fiona recited. "Maisie, how did you learn so many big words?"

"I read a lot," she said, taking a bite, the crust crunching against her teeth.

"Is that why you sleep in the library?" they asked, mumbling around a leaf of spinach.

"That, and no other rooms had doors big enough to fit my chair," Maisie smiled, patting the side of her wheel chair affectionately. "But I was happy to move into the library. It wasn't a problem at all."

"We still could've broken down a few walls for you, kiddo," Julian called, swallowing a bit of chicken. "We don't mind."

Maisie smiled, waving him away. "I know, Dad, but that's so much work. Plus, I'd rather sleep in a library anyway. It's romantic."

Charithra gave her a short smile. "I'm sure you get a lovely breeze, as well. It turned out to be perfect for you."

Maisie beamed.

Arlo reached across the table to pick up a platter of asparagus, Abe sliding it his way. Aaron sliced his bread into little cubes, playing with them, rolling them into dense little balls, then throwing them up and popping them into his mouth. Beckett bumped elbows with Fiona, sending her cup spilling. Abdel and Julian went over numbers, calculating farm costs and deliberating which crop to foster next. Maisie and Charithra kept the food flowing, passing it back and forth, their side of the table comfortably silent.

And Mara beamed at her messy, complicated, chattering family, her heart bubbling as brightly as any fountain of youth. Hands resting on fork and knife, full on the sight of the people she loved, Mara let out a soft exhale. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't even good sometimes, but it was love.

And it was everything she needed. 

author's note!

hey guys! my first author's note of the honeybees! last time i just posted it for the fun and forgot to put a note. 

thank you so much for all your guys' love and support. this is such a sweet project, and it's very dear to my heart. i'm determined to do the best i possibly can, which is why this book might move a little slower. each chapter is going to be very long, as you can tell, but hopefully it's not boring. 

for those of you who are doing your opinions, please finish! i love, love, love reading your guys' input, and i always want to incorporate your thoughts. they're all of our babies, so i want all of your inputs! headcanons, scenes, tropes, dynamics! anything for real, i love all of your creative minds, and it inspires me more than you know. 

see you for the next chapter!