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Patricia Reding
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Science Fiction & Fantasy
Author Insight
Not So Terrible - To Be Alone
The older I get, the more I appreciate: (1) that I need others and that others need me; and (2) that no matter how much I might need others, in the end, I am (as each of us is), alone. It can be a daunting thought--being alone, but like the twins here, one day I realized that even when I am "together" with one or more other people, I am always "separate" from them, as well. When I was young, I craved the company of others; I was out of sorts when I was alone. Now I find that being alone is not so terrible. In fact, these days I crave my time alone. Perhaps it is a natural part of the human condition that prepares us for the day we put this world behind and take our final journey from here--alone. I don't know about that. But I do know that as I sit here alone today, with the house to myself and a dog at my feet, surrounded by quiet, and without any plans to go anywhere until later this evening (and I'm only going to go out then because its expected of me), I'm relishing every quiet second. To be alone is not so terrible after all ...
Book Excerpt
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Reigna turned and looked out at the countryside, contemplating. The tall, dry meadow grasses waved gently in the breeze. Something moved, catching her eye.
In the distance, stood a doe and two spotted fawns. A second later, out from the surrounding brush, sprang a coyote.
Eyes wide, Reigna pointed to the commotion.
After standing frozen for a moment, the doe leaped. The air filled with its sudden and deep inward breathing. The bawling sound resulting, suggested that the animal struggled to breathe. It caught her fawns’ attention, warning them of danger. Then the doe rushed the coyote while her fawns skittered about wildly—first dashing one way, then the other. Moments later, they ran off, each in a different direction.
The doe came down on the coyote with her front legs. Over and over, she pulled back, then landed another blow, her legs kicking hard and fast. So quickly did she move that the coyote couldn’t extricate itself from her reach. A minute later, the intended predator lay bloody and unmoving before her. Once again, the air carried her renewed heaving bawl.
Reigna looked toward her sister. “Did you see that?”
Biting her lip, Eden nodded.
“Is that what you mean? That when . . . if . . . danger comes, we’re to separate? Go different ways?”
“Oh no! Not that we should separate.”
Reigna let out a deep breath as though she’d been holding it in for a long time.
“At least not now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying that maybe we need to be willing to do so, that we should be prepared to do so, and that for so long as we’re together, we each should think about what to do for our own personal safety and future—and for that of Oosa. We should think less about what we’re to do together.”
“I think I get it,” Reigna said.
“You see, there’s an essence to each of us that’s different from that of the other. Maybe somewhere within that difference, is the key to what each of us is to do that’s unique from what the other is to do.”
“That makes sense. But we stay together. Right?”
Eden reached for her twin’s hand. “Yes,” she said.
They looked back toward the bawling doe. Gradually, her cries quieted as one fawn, then the other, returned to her side.
“Together, but separate,” Eden said.
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