I'm at Yenata's house. She and her spouse let our family stay here for as long as it takes to build a new house. It was so nice of them both, though of course I knew that this is exactly what they would do. We're all a part of each other. We all take care of each other. Our needs are their needs and their needs are our own. This is the way it has always been. This is the way it will always be. 

It's nice here, in Yenata and Sumne's house. It's a good atmosphere. Lots of people all around. With Yenata and Sumne and their children Dalia and Arena. With Honano and Malati and me as well. We're all packed. There's lots of coziness and warmth and company. Lots of support and belonging. It's a beautiful place to raise a baby. 

Speaking of the baby, I have to work on my carving. Sumne is sitting beside me working on their's. I don't have much time left. I don't have time to take any time off. I've already lost a day recovering from the fire. 

I go to where the metal box is, in Sumne and Yenata's cellar. It's hard to descend the ladder with my pregnant belly but it's not overly hard. In the darkness of the cellar the only light comes from the lantern on the wall. I find the glinting of the metal box, misshapen from the fire, and I tie it onto my shawl before ascending the wooden ladder and emerging into the light. 

Something is wrong. I can tell that something is wrong. There is a dreadful, deadening feeling deep in the pits of my soul. I don't know why I feel like this. But I've been told by many people to not ignore my instincts. So I guess I should pay attention to the dread I am feeling. 

But whether I pay attention to it or not, it's not as if I can do anything about it. I just have to go on. I just have to carve. I just have to open the box and start working on the carving. That's all I can do. All I can do for my baby. 

I fold my legs and take a seat beside Sumne, who does not even notice me, as intensely focused as they are on their carving. By the light of the window, I sharpen my carving knife with the sharpening rock that we are both sharing between us. And then I move to open the box. 

I pull on the lid of the box. But it does not open. My heart drops down into the pit of my stomach. I am overcome by all-consuming terror. The box will not open. The box will not open. Why will the box not open? 

I pull it again, as hard as I can, one hand on the lid and one hand on the box. The lid does not budge. 

"Damn!" I exclaim, voice slightly delirious. Sumne turns to look at me, apprehension in their widened eyes. 

"What is it?" They ask.

"The box," I answer. "The box carrying our carving. It won't open." These words rush out of my mouth all too fast and I don't know if they understand them or not.

"Stay calm." Their words are blank, but I can hear cracks of emotion coming through from under their tone. "We can fix this. Let me take a look."

I let them try to open the box, and just like me, they fail. 

"I'll try to open the box again and you watch it closely to see what's happening," they suggest. 

"Okay," I agree. 

They turn the box over and over, slowly, as they try to open the metal. I observe the small case closely. 

"I think I see the problem!" I cry, slightly elated. "The metal on the lid, it's fused to the metal underneath it. That's why it can't open."

"Good. We found the problem. Now all that we need to do is find the solution."

"How do we do that?" I ask. 

"We'll think of something. I'm sure we'll think of something."

I look again at the lips of the box, which are melded together. 

"Do you guys have a saw?" I ask Sumne. 

"We don't, but the people across the street do." 

"Let's go ask them for it."

"Good idea."

We go together. Out the door and across the street full of little pebbles. I'm still dead afraid. But I am hopeful. I'm hopeful that we can find a way through this. I'm hopeful that we can save my baby. 

"Can we borrow your saw?" Sumne asks Aero who opens the door. 

"Sure," he answers. "What is it for?"

"My carving box melted shut during the fire." As I speak I can see the worry flicker to life in Aero's eyes, a black and lightless, unnatural fire. 

"Oh my gosh," he states. "I'll get the saw right away." He dashes off and not even a minute passes before he returns, the serrated metallic saw in his hands. He passed it to us, and wishes us good luck. We thank him for his help. 

Back at Sumne's house, the two of us kneel on either side of the box.

"I'll hold it, and you saw," I suggest to Sumne. 

"That's a good idea," they tell me. 

And so I hold the box tight and they scrape the saw back and forth against the lid at dizzying speeds. The tool blurs in their hands. All around us is the high, grating sound of metal scraping against metal. We keep going at it for time uncountable. Perhaps an hour. 

"I'm tired now," Sumne tells me, "Can you take it from here, and I'll hold the box and you saw?"

"Okay."

I put all the energy I have into it, until my thoughts are delirious and my arms are burning. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts oh so much. But still I keep going through the hurt. I have to keep going through the hurt. Through the aching and the burning and the dizzying speed. I cannot see my hands, they blur in front of me as I move my arms back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Again and again and again and again. 

Finally I am too tired to go on. The sound of ringing metal ceases around me as I let the saw rest. 

"Should we take a look at it now?" Sumne asks. 

"Yeah, I think we probably should," I answer. 

"Hopefully something happened," they reply. 

"Yes, hopefully it did," I agree. 

My heart beats in my throat as I pick up the box to take a look at it, examining the edges where the lid meets the metal underneath. 

My spirit shatters at what I see. 

"Not even a small dent!" I cry out. "All this work, and we made not even a small dent!"

"That's not good." Sumne cannot mask the emotions in their words now. I hear the dead, cold horror in their tone. 

"Lifemaker's curses," I swear. 

"Lifemaker's curses," they echo. 

"What should we do now?" I ask.

We both take a long moment to think about it, to go over all of our options inside our heads. 

"We could try using an axe," Sumne suggests. 

"That's a great idea," I reply. "Let's go."

We both go down the street, in the dust of the day, to the house of Sajaye, the woodcutter. 

"Can we borrow your axe?" We ask them, after they answer our frantic knocks. 

"Sure. Bring it back when you're done, though."

"Of course." Sumne answers. 

And then we are walking back down the streets, feet bare, hands clasped together. We go inside to collect the box, the box that holds the source of all of our worries and woes, the box that holds the representation of everyone's worries and woes. And we set the box down on a tree stump by the meadow in the village, a perfect place for cutting wood. Or for cutting metal. 

"I'll swing the axe, you hold the box." My words have a dark sort of determination to them. 

"Sure. Let's do that."

Sumne holds the box down tight and I wind up with my axe. I let it swing, right at the lid of the box. I hold my breath as I am swinging. Everything rests on this moment. This has to work.

And it does work! It actually works! But just a little bit. The metal is not broken. It's not chopped open. It's too strong for that. But it is dented just a little, tiny bit.

"Do you want to take a swing now?" I ask Sumne. We switch, and they take a swing. We switch again and again and again and again, until the sun starts dipping low onto the horizon. Still, we make barely any progress. 

"We have to give it all our energy," Sumne tells me, "or else we'll be struck doing this forever. And we both know that we don't have time."

"You're right," I agree with them. "We don't have time. 

We keep swinging until the light is gone. And then we go home. 

"The box is sealed shut," I tell Yenata and Malati after they come home from their day of work out in the fields. 

"What?" Malati's voice drops and her eyes go wide. 

"Don't worry. Don't worry. We're hacking it open with an axe." Sumne tries to soothe them both but it only works slightly. 

"Will I get to see the baby?" Honano asks, his childish voice filled with a sweetness and an innocence that makes my heart break.

"You will," Yenata tells him. "I promise, little starlet, you will." 

That night I hold Honano close. I was so close to loosing him, back when he was born. I was so incredibly close. I wonder if I'll have as much luck next time. So I pray. I pray to the Lifemaker with all my heart. I pray that the Lifemaker can do something to help us. That They can stand up to it. 

The next day I am working in the fields. But worry constantly eats away at me and I find myself unable to focus on the jobs I have at hand. I find myself only able to wonder if Yenata and Malati are making any progress. I wonder if they will be able to save the hope that we have. If they will be able to save the carving in that box. 

At the end of the day, I look at the box. It's a bit more dented, but not enough. Not nearly enough. We will have to do better. We all will. 

The next day I am working with Sumne again. We are using all of our strength to make any progress that we can. We don't have time. We don't have time. We don't have time. We don't have time at all. Each day my stomach grows a little larger and a little rounder. Each day the life growing inside of me comes a little closer to the physical plane of existence. To our plane of existence. 

Why did the Lifemaker have to put this life in me? Why did the Lifemaker have to put this life in me? Why? This tiny, fragile, infinitely valuable life is not safe with me. It's not safe in here. It's not safe at all. We can try out best to protect it but we all know that our best is not enough. We all know that our best is so very often not nearly enough. 

And we don't have time. 

It is this that I am thinking of as I swing my arms with all the strength that I have. As I hack away at the metal in front of me. My lungs burn and my whole body is exhausted but I have to keep going. I have to keep going. 

I swing. And I swing. And finally, with a wrending blow, one of my swings cuts straight through the metal. I hear a thud. 

"Yes!!" I call out, bright sunlit jubilation pouring over my heart. 

"Yes!!" Sumne echoes. We look at each other, both beaming in glowing smiles. Without saying anything, we come together into a hug. And it's whole and it's warm and it's solid and it's everything that the best of hugs should be. 

"Let's take a look," Sumne says softly.

"Yes."

We open the box. And we take out the carving. 

And it has a line cut through it. A line cut through it where the axe hit it on its way in. 

Everything around me goes black.