I find hidden worlds everywhere. Tiny ones in tea cups, spelled out in bloated leaves to weave fortunes. Quiet ones under bridges, whispering riddles and bubbling bargains. Some I discover beneath the thunder of crashing waves, seeping into porous cliff faces. Others are plain as day, staring back at me through reflective glass.

The only one I wanted to find was the one that took you away.

No matter how many worlds I discovered, that one eluded me.

I paced around the ancient oak in rings, just as mom taught me, murmuring the ‘right’ words to coax out hidden depths within the brittle bark. My eyes traced the rotten crack splitting the trunk in a long, vertical fissure. I could imagine stepping through.

Mom had warned us not to enter other worlds. Gazing was safe, but trespasses rarely ended well.

My ringed steps tightened their circuit around the oak, heart fluttering in my chest as browned leaves crunched to dust under my toes. This was surely the world you inhabited now. I whispered the final phrase, hand grazing the rough trunk, thumb curling just inside the deep crack.

Whispers deep within the tree answered back; far deeper than a tree ought to be.

Holding my breath as if ready to plunge into the ocean, I stuck my head into the fissure.

A shiver ran down my spine as if someone dumped a bucket of warm water on my head. Stars rained down like flakes of snow, sparkling tails hissing as they passed my ears. I couldn’t tell if I was too big for this world, or if the stars were just that small.

A golden carp swam by as if the black void were nothing but ink in water. Its tail trailed streams of gold like honey, and a strange buzzing filled the air. The longer I stayed, the stronger the buzzing grew. It grew and grew until the fish itself seemed to vibrate in my wavering vision, my eyes watering as I strained to see more in this world of ink and fallen stars.

Something hot leaked from my eyes, but it was too thick to be tears. The popping in my brain turned to crackling like it was cooking.

Strong hands on my shoulders yanked me out, and I gasped and sputtered, coming up for air I hadn’t realized I needed. Still, my heart beat more from exhilaration than panic.

“What are you doing?”

My brother’s deep voice was laced with more than irritation. Now that you’re gone, there’s always a touch of fear in Samuel’s tone.

“Looking for dad,” I said.

“You aren’t going to find him in a tree.” Samuel reached out to wipe my cheeks. His hands came away red. “You were supposed to be helping me check the traps.” He was trying to hide that he was worried, as if I wouldn’t see. I always let him think he succeeded.

“Better to look there than nowhere,” I muttered.

“One day, you’re going to peek in a crack and fall straight through the center of the world.”

Anger prickled at the back of my scalp, white-hot and indignant. Samuel didn’t have the right to lecture me. He gave up looking into other worlds when you left. I didn’t understand why; he was better than me at finding hidden places, other realms. If I had his help, I’d find you in no time. I think he likes being in charge now.

After promising to do something productive with my day, I climbed our cabin’s steps as Samuel trudged back out into the woods with his bow in hand, quiver slung over his shoulder. Your flannel shirt hung on a nail just inside the door, breeze flapping the red and black checkered sleeve in greeting. I took it down and pulled it on, hugging myself and inhaling pine and cedar, imagining it was your arms embracing me.

The pockets were deep enough to use for pine nut picking. There was a section of the woods to the west where I usually found a decent amount. The fact that the disappearing hut was in that direction was just a happy coincidence.

Months had bled by and I had already searched all the worlds we used to peek into together. None of them held your buttery laugh or your strong, broad frame. I tried to swallow the burning in my throat. The emptiness in my chest cavity grew more cavernous by the day and I feared examining it too closely. Samuel called it denial.

Maybe Nona would have some advice.