Zhen found her mother near the western edge of the village.

Bai Yue was talking with Yàn Shū and one of the jaguar elders, a wiry woman with sharp eyes and a missing ear. They were discussing something serious, supplies, probably, or sleeping arrangements, but Zhen didn’t care about any of that.

She stopped a few feet away.

Her lower lip was trembling.

"Mama," she said.

Bai Yue turned. Her expression shifted immediately. "Zhen? What’s wrong?"

Zhen’s eyes were already wet. "I want to cry."

Bai Yue dropped whatever she was holding. She crossed the distance in two steps and knelt in front of her daughter, her hands cupping Zhen’s face.

"What happened, baby?"

Zhen’s breath hitched. "I thought... I thought me and Tao Zi were friends. But he doesn’t like me."

The jaguar elder, the one with the missing ear, let out a sharp laugh.

"That," the woman said, "is the biggest lie I have ever heard."

Zhen blinked. "What?"

"Everyone knows that boy is fond of you. He follows you with his eyes like you’re the sun." The elder shook her head. "Blind. Absolutely blind. Both of you."

Zhen’s pout deepened. "He said he doesn’t like me."

"He’s five," the elder said flatly. "He doesn’t know what he likes."

Yàn Shū adjusted his glasses, clearly unsure how to handle the situation. "Statistically speaking, children that age often struggle to articulate their emotions. It’s possible he—"

"Yàn Shū," Bai Yue said.

"Yes?"

"You’re not helping."

He closed his mouth.

Zhen sniffled. "He kept a flower I dropped. Yǎ Lì said so. But when I asked him, he said it wasn’t true." Her voice cracked. "Why would he lie?"

Bai Yue pulled her daughter into her arms. She pressed a kiss to Zhen’s white hair.

"Sometimes," she said carefully, "people get scared. Especially when they like someone. They say the opposite of what they mean because they’re afraid."

"That’s stupid."

"It is," Bai Yue agreed. "Very stupid."

"But why would he be scared of me? I’m not scary."

"You’re very scary," Bai Yue said. "You once bit a vulture."

"That was different."

"How?"

Zhen pouted, turning her face away. "I don’t know. But it was different."

From behind them, a small voice emerged.

"Zhen."

Everyone turned.

Tao Zi was standing at the edge of the clearing. His cheeks were pink, and he was holding something in his hand, hidden behind his back.

Zhen’s face hardened. She made a sound and glared at him.

"Get out," she said.

Tao Zi flinched like she had hit him. "I just wanted to—"

"I said get out!"

"Zhenm baby," Bai Yue said gently, shocked at how aggressive her daughter was sounding, "let him speak."

"No. He said he doesn’t like me. So why is he here? Why is he always looking at me? Why did he keep my flower?" Her voice was rising. "It doesn’t make sense!"

Tao Zi’s grip tightened on whatever was behind his back.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Nothing came out.

Zhen waited. One second. Two. Three.

"See?" she said. "He does not even have words."

She turned and walked away from him, but Bai Yue saw the way her little hands were shaking.

Tao Zi stood frozen, his hand still half-raised, his mouth still half-open.

"Go after her," Bai Yue said quietly.

Tao Zi shook his head.

"She does not want me to."

"She is hurt."

"I know." His voice was very small. "That is why she does not want me to."

He turned and walked away too. A different direction.

Bai Yue watched them go, her heart aching. Who knew young children were capable of such adorable fights. Yàn Shū cleared his throat, preparing to speak, but one glance from Bai Yue shut him up

~

The next day, Zhen avoided Tao Zi.

Not obviously. Not dramatically. She did not cross the clearing when she saw him. She did not stick out her tongue or make a scene.

She just was not where he was.

If he sat by the river, she played near the huts. If he helped the jaguars gather herbs, she helped her mother by the cooking fire. If he walked past, she suddenly became very interested in whatever was in her hands.

Tao Zi noticed.

Everyone noticed, how couldn’t they? It was almost too painful to see.

Yòu Lín tried to help. He grabbed Tao Zi’s arm and dragged him toward Zhen during the midday meal.

"Zhen! Tao Zi has something to say!"

Zhen looked up. Looked at Tao Zi. Looked back down at her food.

"I am eating," she said.

"You are not eating because you are hungry," Yòu Lín said.

"Leave me alone."

Tao Zi stood there, his face red, his hands empty. He had not brought anything this time. He did not know what to bring.

"Zhen," he said.

She did not look up.

"I am sorry," he said.

Nothing.

"I did not mean to—"

"You said you did not like me," she interrupted him. She was being very serious now. "You said it. In front of everyone."

"I was scared."

"So?"

The single word hung in the air.

Tao Zi had no answer.

Zhen picked up her bowl and walked away.

~

Han Shān found his daughter that evening, sitting alone by the edge of the village. She was throwing pebbles at a tree, and missing every time.

He sat down beside her, not uttering a single word. They stayed like that for a long time, Zhen throwing more pebbles and muttering to herself.

"I do not understand," Zhen finally said.

"What do you not understand?"

"Why he lied." She threw another pebble. Missed. "If he likes me, why did he say he does not? That is not what friends do."

Han Shān was quiet for a moment.

"Sometimes," he said slowly, "people say things they do not mean because they are afraid of what happens next."

"What happens next?"

"Getting hurt. Being rejected. Losing something they care about."

Zhen frowned. "That is still stupid."

"Yes," Han Shān said. "But fear is stupid. That does not make it less real."

Zhen picked up another pebble. Held it.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Am I supposed to forgive him?"

Han Shān looked at his daughter. At her stubborn jaw. At her purple eyes, so like her mother’s.

"No," he said. "You forgive him when you are ready. Not before."

Zhen nodded. Threw the pebble.

It hit the tree.

"Good throw," Han Shān said.

"I know," Zhen said. But she was not smiling.

~

The second day was worse.

Not because anything happened, but because nothing happened.

Tao Zi stopped trying.

He stopped approaching her. Stopped standing at the edges of her games. Stopped looking at her across the fire.

He just withdrew.

Yǎ Lì found him sitting behind the jaguar shelters, his knees pulled to his chest, his dark eyes fixed on the ground.

"You are giving up?" she asked.

"She does not want to see me."

"Did she say that?"

"She walked away."

"Because you hurt her." Yǎ Lì sat down beside him. "Not because she does not care."

Tao Zi said nothing.

"The festival is tomorrow," she continued. "The twin moons will rise. People will dance. People will give cords. People will say things they have been too afraid to say." She paused. "What will you do?"

Tao Zi was quiet for a long time.

"I do not know," he said.

Yǎ Lì patted his head and left him there.

~

That night, Bai Yue sat by the fire with her three husbands.

Zhāo Yàn was sprawled on a fur. Han Shān was sharpening a knife. Yàn Shū was reading a scroll.

"The children are miserable," Bai Yue said, thinking to herself.

"They are five," Zhāo Yàn said. "Tomorrow they will be friends again."

"Will they?"

No one answered.