It started when Scoob left.
It wasn’t his departure itself that shook the holler, folks came and went all the time, but the way he left, silent and mid-war, when they were down by one star. No warning. No word. Just vanished.
Pa had looked at the scroll, grunted, and muttered something like “good riddance. Fuckin’ quitter.” But Ma? She sat back, and felt something heavier settle in her chest. Something that had been building quietly over the past couple weeks.
"Seems like loyalty is optional around here," Ma noted. "Hard pill for me to swallow."
“Yes ma’am,” Pa responded. “I just try not to get involved with any of them. Come and go way too often.”
“That’s hard for me,” Ma said.
Pa laughed. “Oh, I know. That’s what I love about ya. It’s who you are. Makes us a good match.”
And then the phrase that turned the whole conversation around.
Ma replied, “You’re pretty detached.”
That was the moment the whole conversation turned into something else.
“I won’t be spending hours engaging. I don’t pursue anything more than wars and stats,” he said, a tad defensively.
Ma took that a bit personal. “Then why does loyalty even matter in that case? Should we not have expectations of one another with what we’re building here?”
“I gage success on wars, base building, strategy. You’ve started a whole clan, Ma. It’s going well.”
“That feels like a pat on the head,” Ma replied, frowning, not really sure what he was saying.
“Not at all,” he told her. “But this is your clan, not really mine.”
That’s when the real weight settled in.
Ma started thinking about loyalty. About commitment. About what it meant to show up when it wasn’t easy or convenient. She was tired. Not the kind sleep fixed—but the kind that came from shouldering something and not knowing if the weight was still shared.
The holler had been quiet lately. Too quiet. Not the peaceful kind that follows a good harvest or a perfect war, but the kind Ma felt in her chest like a misstep in a familiar tune. Something had shifted.
Pa was still around. He handled strategy, checked the scrolls, gave orders when needed. But the sense of shared rhythm they’d previously had felt off. He was speaking less, even to her. He did what needed doing, but the warmth, the unspoken understanding that they were building something together, felt faint, like the embers of a fire left to burn itself out.
One evening, after a long day of war planning and clan clean-up, Ma sat near the edge of the war barn porch, the light low.
“You still with me in this?” she asked quietly. Not a challenge, just a question that had lingered too long unspoken.
Pa looked up from the scroll, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“This clan. This whole thing. It feels like you’re here for the tasks, but not… here. Not really with me in it anymore. Not with them either.”
He squinted slightly, as if trying to read her for the first time in a while. “I do what needs doin’. That hasn’t changed. I figured you knew that. But it’s your clan. You’ve built this.”
Ma tilted her head in confusion. “It’s ours. That’s how we came into this.”
“Take a nap, Ma,” Pa said lightly. “You’re tired and being a bit snippy.”
Ma bristled at his sidestep. “Don’t deflect.”
Pa chuckled and shook his head. “Guilty.” Then again, to lighten the tension, “Someone needs a nap.”
“I am tired,” she admitted. “But it feels like maybe this doesn’t matter to you like I thought it did. Not just the work, but the partnership. And if that’s the case…” she trailed off, then looked down and said quietly, “….I’ll need to make some adjustments.”
He paused, clearly caught off guard. Not defensive, but uncertain. The shift in him was subtle but real.
“You misunderstood me,” he said at last. His voice was calm, but not quite firm. “I’ve had a lot going on lately that has spread me thin, and you’ve known that. I don’t have the same time like you to engage all the time. And even in this moment, there’s a busted tractor tire that needs fixin’, and the coolin’ stone is broken and it’s hot as hell. So, last thing on my mind is socializin’.”
“I wasn’t asking you to….” Ma started to say, then stopped. She didn’t want the back and forth of constant explaining. That would only lead to frustration. She wanted to feel heard and wanted him to feel heard, but it almost seemed they were talking a different language.
She nodded slowly. “I think we are both misunderstanding what we think the other may be saying. You bring so much value in what you do, with the strategy, and knowledge.”
He looked away, his expression unreadable. “I thought we were solid. Didn’t realize you had so many doubts about my intentions.”
The hurt was understated but there.
Ma took a breath, letting the silence stretch before she filled it.
“I just didn’t want to keep investing like we were in sync if we weren’t. I’m not mad. I just…needed to know we were still a solid team with a shared vision. And a connection. Cuz if not, I need to shift my energy.”
He stayed quiet, his thumb absently tracing the edge of the scroll.
“I’ve always thought of us as equals,” he said. “I’ve appreciated what we’ve built. I just don’t talk about it like you do. I figured my actions showed it.”
“They do,” Ma said. “But when I asked about connection and you said you don’t really form them because people come and go, it made me think that I am lumped in with that as well and, if so, that’s okay. I just need to pivot, is all.”
Pa looked up then, and something in his expression shifted.
“I don’t connect with every goblin who passes through, Ma. I hope you continue to value the partnership we have. I do.”
Ma exhaled softly. “I think we are both misunderstanding what we think the other is saying. Let’s reset. You’re my favorite person in the holler. I’m sorry if I backed you into a corner. That was never my intent. The way you show up is enough.”
He nodded once, a quiet understanding settling in.
“I do care,” he muttered. “See? I went and did the thing you said mattered. Now don’t make me talk about it.”
Ma chuckled under her breath.
“Fair enough,” she said, shaking her head and rising.
He gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. “We’re good then?”
“Yeah,” she said, with a small smile. “We’re good.”
And she meant it.
She stepped back into the barn feeling lighter. The ache hadn’t vanished, but the misunderstanding had.
He would keep showing up in his quiet way. And she would keep weaving the holler together in hers.
That was enough.
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