Solana (A Pathos Sidetrack, 1) SIGNED PAPERBACK with SWAG

1: STORYTIME

A tiny house glowed warmly in the autumn golden hour. From the outside, it looked simple. Plain. Just a slightly run down house in the country on barely a half-acre of land. The eaves freshly mended, siding replaced and awaiting paint, the old house got patched up by a hardworking man who young Solana had grown to love as a father figure. And love, paired with her sweet mother, made that little house a home.

Solana’s real father left four years ago, nearly half her short life of almost eight. When she tried hard, she could remember his face, his hazel eyes and his auburn hair and freckles. Mama kept one faded photograph in a frame for Solana, making Solana wonder if she actually remembered the man or merely memorized the picture. She’d stared at it for long hours, after all, studying his sun-squinted eyes, the serious tilt of his pressed lips, the wild arrangement of his longish red hair. Captured in a candid moment, like those old movie posters of James Dean, lacking only a cigarette and carefully styled hair.

Her mother glanced wistfully at the image every time she entered Solana’s room, often making subtle comments about how Solana had his same color eyes and wild spiky hair, or how she held her mouth the same way when she was thinking hard. Her tone seemed so distant and sad. Solana caught her mother wiping away a tear once, and felt from her a sorrow she hadn’t noticed before. Then Solana hid her father’s picture in her sock drawer, face down under all the socks, so he couldn’t make her mommy cry anymore.

His voice eluded her still. The timbre echoed in her head now and then, a distant echo or a ghostly laugh. Frustrated, though try as she might, she couldn’t hear the words or focus enough to clear up the sound in her mind. Being sad or angry for something outside your control doesn’t befit blessed little girls, her mother often said with a telling smile that didn’t rise to her eyes. Leave the sadness for grownups and just be happy. So this little girl pushed down the sadness she felt, and let go the frustration, to be strong for her mother. A hollow, fuzzy sort of confusion remained.

Her mother said she’d explain it all when she grew up, so Solana would decide for herself if she needed to be sad at that time. But according to her mother, her father hadn’t died. Just left. And Solana had not been to blame. Her mother confirmed that much. Hating the sadness in her mother’s eyes, and confused and angry about why her father would leave such a good woman, Solana decided to be happy enough for both of them!

After a few years of sad sighs and staring into the distance, Solana’s mother met the man she married last year. He had been in the military for years and shared a similar sadness in his eyes that matched her mother’s in a way Solana couldn’t put her finger on. Solana, though apprehensive at first, liked him well enough. The best part was, he made her mother smile, all the way to her eyes!

Solana spent some time pondering in her head how she should address the man. Would her mama like it if she called him Dad? Or should she keep calling him Archer? She’d given up on calling him by his weird first name Sephandrum; Alcourne, his surname, just made her giggle for some reason.

At long last, quite by accident the first time, and to Archer’s delight, Solana called him Dad. She’d frozen as the word slipped out, incredibly self-conscious and embarrassed. He didn’t seem to mind, if she could trust his beaming smile. He may have really liked it, though a sad murkiness seeped into that smile at first, clearing as time marched on.

Staring upward at the shower nozzle and sighing into the prickling water, Solana considered her many blessings and wondered at how such a good man made his way into their lives. As she would hit eight years old tomorrow, she announced an end to her traditional bathtime with her swimming mermaid float and rubber duckies and colorful bubble bath soap and artsy tub markers. She had reached the age of infinity, she told her mother, because her age turned on its side made the infinity symbol. At this age, she decided that great leaps into the future must happen. First, she gave up bathtime, her third favorite pastime, and replaced it with luxuriant showers. Then she told her mother to please stop cutting off the crust from her sandwiches, sure that important nutrition for growth rested in their dark, smooth surfaces. At this rate, she’d be shaving her legs in no time!

She kept drawing, her second favorite pastime, but aimed for improving that skill with fiendish focus. And her dolls still demanded the occasional tea party, so she couldn’t deny them. But her favorite thing ever, stories, both reading and writing, she refused to give up! Imagination gave Solana entire worlds to explore, and people to meet. No amount of growing up could pull her from that joy!

Her mother laughed indulgently at her daughter’s whims, assuring her that none of these changes need to happen so soon. Solana turned off the shower, sure that she rinsed off all her mother’s sweet-smelling body wash. Then she stepped out onto the mat, looking for her towel.

The small house’s tiny bathroom opened into the hallway, with both bedrooms directly perpendicular to the bathroom. Solana, dripping across the floor, peeked out to see her mother stoop with a grunt. She tidied Solana’s small bed. Her belly swollen with Solana’s baby brother, she struggled with things like that for now. Therefore, after careful consideration, Solana decided to grow up sooner. Mama needs help now and after the baby comes. And she needed to be the best big sister she could to the little boy. She needed to teach him how love works, how strong girls are and how much they matter in his life, so one day, when he has a family of his own, he’ll know better than to leave.

Her mother gathered a half dozen thick storybooks into Solana’s dingy yellow backpack and laid it on the floor beside the nightstand. Turning down the blanket, she laughed at the girl’s ragged cloth doll. Solana had tacked her out with a paper knife and machine gun, a wide ammo belt with hand-drawn bullet slots each with a little red dot, and a headband made of red construction paper before settling her on the pillow for her nightly protection duty.

“Solana! Story time!” She turned to catch Solana dripping in the floor, staring at her. “Get in there off my hardwood floors! Shoo!”

“Story time, Dad!” Solana cried from the bathroom, echoing in the small house. Maybe Archer couldn’t be her real father. That didn’t matter. He treated Mommy like a queen and an equal. That’s all she really cared about, all she required of anyone in her short life—to love her mommy like she did. But he treated Solana nice, too! “Mommy? Where’s your big towel? It’s fluffy!”

“Up top, Little!”

Solana tiptoed and pulled down a big towel from a high shelf, dragging several more with it. Then she paused to push the fallen towels back onto lower shelves. She draped the fluffy towel over her head and climbed to peek into the mirror. She practiced her smile. Her freckled cheeks dimpled; her hazel eyes sparkled. Eyes that matched her estranged father’s. Her smile faded. Solana, though she didn’t remember him much, wondered where her first, real daddy had gone. She wondered if he felt scared of her, like her pediatrician had been scared. She’d spoken in full sentences too young, possessed reasoning skills far beyond her age, understood feelings and picked up on emotions with shocking clarity. Smart like your father, Mommy said on occasion, with that same weird sadness in her voice. She wondered again why he left, then pushed it down and away, as she tried to obey her mother’s wish for her to be happy.

Taking a deep breath, Solana pressed down her musings. She ran into her bedroom, her pudgy fingers clinging to the huge white towel that trailed behind her on the floor. Her mother snatched away the white towel with a laugh and pulled the ruffled gown over Solana’s dripping hair. She smiled at the scrunched up face of her baby girl as she scrubbed her drenched hair with the towel.

“Hurry, Dad! The towel monster is getting me!”

Solana pulled a hat over her wet locks before her mother could attack the hair with a brush. Solana giggled all the while. Her mother finally sighed heavily and plopped on the bed, frustrated.

“I want to do it!” Solana cried and held out her hand for the brush.

Her step-father — a tall, broad-shouldered military man with short white hair and piercing blue eyes — walked in, wearing a worn green tank top and tactical pants. His long cord necklace with the small white spiral, which Solana loved, hung from his neck, almost to his navel. Barefoot, as always, he propped his shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. Her mom stared at Archer’s silly grin and sighed again, knowing she’d have no help from him.

Solana just wanted to prove she could do it, that her mother didn’t have to. But it seemed her mother struggled with letting that little bit go. She always said Solana’s thick, spiky hair made a rat’s nest if not brushed.

“Do you have to go to bed wearing that old cap?” her mother asked, brandishing her brush threateningly. “At least let me finish brushing your hair first!”

Solana reached for the brush again. With a comical look of concern, her mother relinquished the brush to Solana. Solana laid the hat aside and started brushing her hair, cringing along with her mother as she pulled through each knot with force rather than her mother’s gentle prodding. But her mother didn’t interfere. Solana returned the brush to her mother once her mousy wet hair hung relatively straight and knot-free. Then she patted away the excess moisture like she’d seen her mommy do. Then as her mother took her towel to hang it in the bathroom, Solana crammed the blue ball cap over her wet hair.

“Solana!” her mother said with a sigh that quickly fell to a chuckle. “You are a treasure and a challenge to my nerves.”

“But a treasure nonetheless,” said Archer. His rich, deep voice made Solana smile. She felt safe and soothed.

“Why do you wear that old thing to bed?”

Solana clamped on to it with both hands. “It’s the first thing you ever gave to me.”

“You heard her, Terra.” Archer laughed again, adjusting the narrow black-rimmed glasses on his nose. “She likes my gift better.”

“If that’s the way it works,” her mother said. Her hands moved at her throat for a moment, untying a deep purple ribbon there. “Well, then… It’s time that you got a present from me. Your birthday is tomorrow, right?”

Solana went silent and sat next to her mother, nodding emphatically. “I’ll be eight, finally!” She held up eight fingers for emphasis, a stern and serious expression on her face. Being able to count on both hands had been her privilege for almost three years. She would soon run out of fingers! “Practically grown.”

Her mother took Solana’s open hand and turned it palm up. “This is precious to me, so I know you’ll take good care of it.” She placed the silver heart in her hand, took the tiny key and showed her how to open it. Solana gasped at the tiny pictures inside. Her mother pointed to the picture on the left. “This is baby Solana! Look at those precious hazel eyes,” her mother said, and pinched her cheek lovingly. “And this is Dad and Mommy.”

Solana pointed to Mommy’s swollen belly in the photo, “And this is my little brother Balor!”

“Yes, little lady,” said Archer. “It is.” He flipped the bill on her cap and sat down beside her. He closed the locket and tied the ribbon loosely around Solana’s neck.

“Thank you, Mommy!” Solana beamed, sitting stiffly, not sure how to properly act while wearing real adult jewelry.

“You’re welcome, dear child,” Terra said, kissing Solana’s forehead. “Let’s settle down now for the night.”

She scooted aside the ragdoll to make room. Solana lifted her for Archer’s approval.

“Wow!” Archer took the doll. “Smudge is well prepared to protect you tonight! What are those red dots on the bullets?”

“Critical duty rounds,” Solana said, proud that he noticed. “So they expand fully when they get to squishy areas, rather than getting twisted in heavy fabric. But I didn’t know if they made them for machine guns.”

“Good girl. Critical duty is for handguns, mostly. They make something like that for machine guns. I’ll show you pictures tomorrow.”

“Archer!” Terra cried out. When he met her gaze, she stared open-mouthed.

“What?” Archer answered. “She picks up on things.”

“Things that you tell her!”

“Might as well live aware.” Archer shrugged. “All these weekends we’ve gone out into the mountains, she’s learning and doing all kinds of stuff. She’s pretty amazing at picking up skills. How to forage for food, make shelter, purify water, build a fire. Bushcraft stuff that everyone should know. And eventually, when you’re comfortable with it, I’ll teach her to shoot safely.”

“You’re right, of course.” Terra smiled down at Solana.

“She’s the smartest kid I know, and you’re teaching her some awesome skills. But we’ll hold off on shooting for now. She’s still my baby girl.”

“I’m practically grown!” Solana spoke up. She brandished her eight fingers with an indignant expression, surprised by how quickly they’d forgotten.

Her mother laughed, and assured Solana that she had grown quite a bit. “But you’ll always be my baby girl, even when I’m old and gray!”

Solana smiled past the mist that rose to her eyes. She couldn’t imagine a day when her mother would seem old to her, really old. The foreign twinge in her gut screwed her stomach into a knot. Then Solana willed it to relax. She nodded and hugged her mama, tucking in Smudge the ragdoll close to her side.

“Now, it’s story time!”

Her mother lifted a large, thin book from Solana’s backpack and opened it to the front page. “The Unicorn and the Lake,” she read. She flipped to the richly illustrated story pages and, taking a deep breath, began the legend of the unicorn and the serpent with barely a glance at the words on the page.

Long ago, they all memorized the text of Solana’s favorite book, so often it had been repeated. And long ago, they had begun embellishing and extending the story in flights of fancy that captured Solana’s attention and imagination more than any of her other stories. Story time in Solana’s home became a warm affair full of the love of family, the bright, creative mind of a young girl, and the comforting embrace of familiar, epic adventures.

“Why doesn’t the unicorn just fight the serpent in the beginning?” Solana asked again, putting up her fists to emphasize her personal resolve.

“Because she wants to give him a chance to change his ways,” her mother answered. In this retelling, Solana reimagined the male unicorn as a girl. Her flowing mane and tail tangled with flowers and trailed new growth of greenery with each step. Solana explained that she could be pretty, creative and destructive.

“But she could save so many if she just kicked his butt when he first did the bad things!”

“I’m sure it hurt her that she couldn’t save them all,” her mother said, trying to make a different observation.

“Maybe,” her dad answered, tweaking Solana’s nose, “she wanted to believe in the good of the worst one, just like we believe that everyone can choose to do the right thing.”

Solana mulled that over in her head, wishing desperately that the Unicorn could find a way to save them all, including the Serpent. Her mother continued the story, but this time the Unicorn fought hard to save everyone and tried to reason with the Serpent to avoid any more pain and sickness. In the end, Solana dozed with the book clutched close to her heart, so she didn’t hear if the Unicorn’s new approach worked. She sure hoped it did!

Her mother tucked the blanket in over the book, turned off the light and joined her husband at the door.
Archer hugged Terra tightly. Then he pulled the door together, whispering goodnight.

2: INFERNO

Solana smelled the smoke before she felt the heat. She sat up in bed, flattening her body against the headboard. Drowsy, unsure that she was even awake, she watched the fire devouring her small bedroom. All around her bed, the flames arose to engulf her. Detached, in shock, Solana saw flames creep along her comforter, flick across her toes, and leap onto the Unicorn book she held.

THE PATHOS SERIES:

Tamara Henson's ever-expanding Pathos universe spans space and dimensions beyond the waking world to bring fresh life to mythologies, folklore, and legends, spinning epic original locations and memorable, multi-dimensional characters in rich detail with her playful dialogue and direct writing style.

Join Rowan Jun in his path toward redemption from slave to warrior. Walk the path of Briescha, a born diplomat so dedicated to her sister that she would shatter the cosmos to keep her safe.

Follow Solana into the wilderness as she escapes those who seek to harm her, and follows the voice of the mysterious Taiyo of the Flames.

Let Ariana guide you through her new life in the Mansion in the Mountain, where the mystery of her family is finally revealed, and her true trial begins. 

Tread the path toward life and redemption, where suffering and pain hold the promise of a brighter, more joyful future.

The Pathos Series!

Seek out all these books in the Pathos Series:

The Pathos of Rowan Jun (Pathos, Volume 1)

Silver Empress (Pathos, Volume 2)

Solana: A Pathos Sidetrack (Companion Novella)

Ariana: A Pathos Sidetrack (Companion Novella)