Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Mist clung low to the water as morning rose over the jungle. The camp was quiet, save for the soft clink of supplies being packed into the long wooden canoe. Parrots screeched high in the canopy, unaware of the goodbyes unfolding below.
Dahlia knelt beside a cluster of orchids near the riverbank. She pressed her fingers to the moss, leaving behind a faint glow. The petals unfurled just a little more, as if to see her off.
“You’re really leaving?” Maria asked behind her.
Dahlia stood. “We’ve done what we can here. The next village is already waiting.”
Maria crossed her arms. “And when exactly do you sleep?”
“Not as often as I should.”
They both smiled, but it didn’t reach either of their eyes.
Maria reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded scrap of cloth — a band of faded red with hand-sewn glyphs around the edge.
“Take this,” she said, pressing it into Dahlia’s palm. “It’s from the Kōma markings we found near the falls. Protection… or defiance. Depending who you ask.”
Dahlia traced the edge with her thumb. “Thank you.”
Maria shrugged, trying not to seem moved. “Just try not to die. It’d be inconvenient.”
Amy approached with Miguel on her shoulders, the boy laughing as he tried to braid her messy hair.
“I told them they’re not allowed to leave,” Miguel declared.
“You hear that, Dahl?” Amy grinned. “We’re being held hostage by cuteness.”
Dahlia chuckled. “The most dangerous kind.”
Camila, the guide, offered them both small woven bracelets — green and gold, knotted in the style of her people. “You made the jungle listen,” she said. “Now it will remember you.”
Even Paulo came forward, silent as ever. He handed Amy a palm-sized stone shaped like a hummingbird.
“For speed,” he said.
Amy blinked. “...Thanks. That’s actually really sweet.”
Dahlia turned to Paulo. “And for me?”
Paulo didn’t answer. Instead, he simply tapped his chest, then pointed to her.
“You already have what you need,” Maria translated softly.
The canoe waited in the shallows, steady in the current.
Maria stood at the water’s edge, arms folded, watching them climb in. “So what’s next? A mountain temple? Sky cult? Hidden city?”
“Maybe,” Amy called back. “We tend to collect secrets.”
Dahlia turned once more toward Maria. Her voice was low. “Thank you. For seeing me.”
Maria’s expression softened. “I don’t think I could have missed you if I tried.”
Dahlia hesitated. Then stepped forward and gently touched Maria’s shoulder.
A single blossom bloomed from the strap of Maria’s satchel — soft pink and gold, glowing faintly.
“Just so you don’t forget me,” Dahlia said.
Maria blinked down at the flower. Then gave a small, stunned laugh. “As if I could.”
The canoe pushed off, guided by the current and a long pole in Camila’s steady hand. The jungle slipped past on either side, green and endless.
Behind them, Maria raised a hand.
Paulo nodded once.
And Miguel shouted from the shore, “Come back, tree whisperers!”
Dahlia smiled, her fingers trailing in the water.
“Next stop?” Amy asked beside her.
Dahlia glanced downriver. “Wherever the world needs us most.”
The jungle faded behind them.