He bent to inspect her tether. “We don’t want you slipping off the edge, eh? I fell off the branch today and I pretended I was dead!”

“Arky’s not dead! I won’t let you, ever!” She frowned.

“Good for you!” He lifted her in his arms and landed a big kiss on her forehead.

Shiv squealed with delight. “Throw me off the tree? Pleeeeease?”

Ark could feel the weight of her. “You, my beautiful girl, are growing up too quick.” Ark still loved playing the old game of holding his sister over the safety rope, upside down, and pretending to drop her, but then thought better of it. Too close for comfort, and besides, it occurred to him he ought to get inside before he was seen by any passing neighbors. He placed her back down carefully on the branch. “Sorry, Shiv. Another time. I have to go in to see Dad.”

Her bottom lip drooped and a cry threatened to erupt from her lips.

Ark tried to head off the sulky storm. “Later. I promise. Be good now.”

“Humpph!” muttered Shiv and turned her back on him to tell off one of the sticks.

Ark took a deep breath. At least he was back. The dome-shaped family home nestled by itself in a cradle of rope, like a giant egg. He stepped off the branch line onto a thin, swaying walkway, and bounced lightly. The creak was familiar, welcoming.

“Anyone home?” Ark lifted the flap of the treepaulin, the stitched-together harvest-leaves that provided waterproofing and protection. As the leaves fell throughout autumn, Dendrans would haul in their nets strung between the trees. The leaves were a strong and flexible crop. Once tanned, they were far more durable than cow leather.

Ark ducked down out of the gloom. The round, single room was divided by thick, moth-munched blankets. Wall gaslights flickered in a breeze that made the whole house tremble in its fragile cradle of rope. Ark steadied himself as the fuggy heat warmed his damp body.

“Here, son,” came a weak voice. His father lay curled up in a large cot-basket next to the wood burner. His filmy eyes gazed toward Ark. “Good day?”

“It was all right,” Ark lied. He was wet, tired, and his whole world had been turned upside down. All right was nowhere near the truth.

“Your mother’s out veg-haggling. Back in a bit.”

Ark felt guilty. Their last coins would be gone on a few blighted spuds and wrinkled carrots. “Dad. I’m in trouble.”

“Oh?”

But he had no chance to explain. They both turned at the sound of hobnailed boots clattering down the walkway. Ark looked wild-eyed at his father, who quick as a flash motioned his son down behind one of the partition sheets.

Before Mr. Malikum Senior could say Enter, the flap was roughly pulled aside, letting in the chill evening air.