Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 85: Chapter 85
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Serengeti – Leo’s Side
Two Months Later
The wind moved softly across the plains, stirring the tall grasses like a thousand whispers. Leo sat crouched atop a flat rock, knees drawn up, eyes narrowed—not with hostility, but with curiosity.
Below him, Derek knelt in the brush, speaking in low tones to a trio of wild dogs that had approached their encampment over the last few days. He never raised his voice. He didn’t use commands. He just… listened, responded in tones shaped more by instinct than vocabulary. A flick of the fingers, a murmured phrase, the rhythm of breath and heartbeat.
Leo rested his chin on his knees. “You speak wolf.”
Derek didn’t look up. “Technically, African painted dog. But close.”
Leo dropped to the ground beside him with a thump, curling his feet beneath him like a cat in mid-nap. “They don’t fear you.”
“They recognize something. Familiarity, maybe. I’m not here to dominate them.” Derek smiled faintly. “I used to try that. It didn’t go well.”
Leo turned to look at him. “You’ve changed since I first met you.”
Derek laughed softly. “You were a lion then. I had to be brave.”
Leo nudged him with a shoulder. “You’re still brave. But I think I’m ready now.”
Derek turned. “Ready for what?”
Leo looked out across the Serengeti, toward the golden haze of distant hills. “To go. To see what’s beyond all this grass. I feel better in my skin now. More like both parts of me know each other.”
Derek nodded, waiting.
“I want to meet her,” Leo added. “Your sister. The one who gave you the petals.
Derek smiled. “Dahlia.”
“She sounds like a myth.”
“She kind of is.”
Leo stood, brushing his hands on his thighs. “Then let’s meet the myth.”
—
That Evening – At Camp
They shared the last of the millet cakes by firelight, with Leo perched — as always — cross-legged, sleeves rolled up, and still barefoot. His satchel of Dahlia’s petals rested against his chest, faintly glowing in the dark.
Derek threw a stick into the fire. “You still hate shoes.”
Leo tilted his head. “They confine the feet.”
“You could just say they’re uncomfortable.”
“I tried. You said I sounded dramatic.”
“You are dramatic.”
Leo narrowed his eyes. “You lick your thumb when you’re thinking.”
Derek blinked. “That’s not dramatic.”
“It’s peculiar.”
“You purr when you nap.”
“I do not.”
“You do. You purred yesterday after mango stew.”
“I was content. It’s different.”
Derek chuckled, leaning back. “Okay, fine. We'll find you a village where shoes are optional.”
Leo grinned. “I prefer a forest.”
Derek looked at the glowing petals in Leo’s satchel. “It’s strange. When Dahlia made those, she said they were for someone lost in fur. She didn’t even know your name yet.”
Leo held the satchel carefully. “She’s part of this, even from far away.”
Derek nodded. “She’d want to meet you.”
Leo paused. “Is she like you?”
“No,” Derek said. “She’s better. I tame what’s wild. She heals what’s wounded.”
There was a long silence.
Then Leo murmured, “I’d like to thank her.”
—
The Next Morning – Final Preparations
They packed what little they had: dried petals, tools, a collapsible map, journals. Derek fitted a new satellite beacon into Leo’s satchel and handed him a folded page.
“A letter for Dahlia. You can give it to her when we arrive. Or read it first. Doesn’t matter.”
Leo tucked it into the petals with surprising reverence.
“Do I have to call her ‘sister’?” he asked with a grin.
“She’ll probably call you lion-boy before you get a word in.”
“I like her already.”
They mounted their solar bikes, modified by Eliot during one of his tech drops a year ago. The engines purred like jungle cats.
“Next stop,” Derek said, “the Anderson estate.”
Leo grinned, baring a little fang. “Let’s go meet the myth.”
—
Meanwhile – The Anderson Estate, Bloom Room Forest
Dahlia stood at the edge of the underground clearing, now a full ecosystem of light-sensitive vines, pulsing lilies, and moss-covered benches. A false sun bloomed from bioluminescent orchids, powered by Eliot’s buried circuitry.
Eliot was on his back, half-under a root system with wires tucked behind his ears.
Markus emerged with a crate. “Brazil just sent word. The community garden in Manaus bloomed on schedule. Two mothers reported no relapse in the fever.”
Dahlia closed her eyes for a moment. “That’s two more than yesterday.”
Eliot popped up. “Also, the Serengeti beacon activated this morning. Derek and someone else — incoming.”
Dahlia turned. “Someone else?” and remembered "Oh! The lion boy Derek mentioned in his letters."
Two Months Later
The wind moved softly across the plains, stirring the tall grasses like a thousand whispers. Leo sat crouched atop a flat rock, knees drawn up, eyes narrowed—not with hostility, but with curiosity.
Below him, Derek knelt in the brush, speaking in low tones to a trio of wild dogs that had approached their encampment over the last few days. He never raised his voice. He didn’t use commands. He just… listened, responded in tones shaped more by instinct than vocabulary. A flick of the fingers, a murmured phrase, the rhythm of breath and heartbeat.
Leo rested his chin on his knees. “You speak wolf.”
Derek didn’t look up. “Technically, African painted dog. But close.”
Leo dropped to the ground beside him with a thump, curling his feet beneath him like a cat in mid-nap. “They don’t fear you.”
“They recognize something. Familiarity, maybe. I’m not here to dominate them.” Derek smiled faintly. “I used to try that. It didn’t go well.”
Leo turned to look at him. “You’ve changed since I first met you.”
Derek laughed softly. “You were a lion then. I had to be brave.”
Leo nudged him with a shoulder. “You’re still brave. But I think I’m ready now.”
Derek turned. “Ready for what?”
Leo looked out across the Serengeti, toward the golden haze of distant hills. “To go. To see what’s beyond all this grass. I feel better in my skin now. More like both parts of me know each other.”
Derek nodded, waiting.
“I want to meet her,” Leo added. “Your sister. The one who gave you the petals.
Derek smiled. “Dahlia.”
“She sounds like a myth.”
“She kind of is.”
Leo stood, brushing his hands on his thighs. “Then let’s meet the myth.”
—
That Evening – At Camp
They shared the last of the millet cakes by firelight, with Leo perched — as always — cross-legged, sleeves rolled up, and still barefoot. His satchel of Dahlia’s petals rested against his chest, faintly glowing in the dark.
Derek threw a stick into the fire. “You still hate shoes.”
Leo tilted his head. “They confine the feet.”
“You could just say they’re uncomfortable.”
“I tried. You said I sounded dramatic.”
“You are dramatic.”
Leo narrowed his eyes. “You lick your thumb when you’re thinking.”
Derek blinked. “That’s not dramatic.”
“It’s peculiar.”
“You purr when you nap.”
“I do not.”
“You do. You purred yesterday after mango stew.”
“I was content. It’s different.”
Derek chuckled, leaning back. “Okay, fine. We'll find you a village where shoes are optional.”
Leo grinned. “I prefer a forest.”
Derek looked at the glowing petals in Leo’s satchel. “It’s strange. When Dahlia made those, she said they were for someone lost in fur. She didn’t even know your name yet.”
Leo held the satchel carefully. “She’s part of this, even from far away.”
Derek nodded. “She’d want to meet you.”
Leo paused. “Is she like you?”
“No,” Derek said. “She’s better. I tame what’s wild. She heals what’s wounded.”
There was a long silence.
Then Leo murmured, “I’d like to thank her.”
—
The Next Morning – Final Preparations
They packed what little they had: dried petals, tools, a collapsible map, journals. Derek fitted a new satellite beacon into Leo’s satchel and handed him a folded page.
“A letter for Dahlia. You can give it to her when we arrive. Or read it first. Doesn’t matter.”
Leo tucked it into the petals with surprising reverence.
“Do I have to call her ‘sister’?” he asked with a grin.
“She’ll probably call you lion-boy before you get a word in.”
“I like her already.”
They mounted their solar bikes, modified by Eliot during one of his tech drops a year ago. The engines purred like jungle cats.
“Next stop,” Derek said, “the Anderson estate.”
Leo grinned, baring a little fang. “Let’s go meet the myth.”
—
Meanwhile – The Anderson Estate, Bloom Room Forest
Dahlia stood at the edge of the underground clearing, now a full ecosystem of light-sensitive vines, pulsing lilies, and moss-covered benches. A false sun bloomed from bioluminescent orchids, powered by Eliot’s buried circuitry.
Eliot was on his back, half-under a root system with wires tucked behind his ears.
Markus emerged with a crate. “Brazil just sent word. The community garden in Manaus bloomed on schedule. Two mothers reported no relapse in the fever.”
Dahlia closed her eyes for a moment. “That’s two more than yesterday.”
Eliot popped up. “Also, the Serengeti beacon activated this morning. Derek and someone else — incoming.”
Dahlia turned. “Someone else?” and remembered "Oh! The lion boy Derek mentioned in his letters."
End of Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 85. Continue reading Chapter 86 or return to Dahlia and the Garden of Light book page.