《Tales From Hetra》


 Abandonment

    The bickering had gone on for a while. The air was filled with a multilayered choral performance of four children, each with their own grievance against each other. The hapless mother shook her head as she continued to speak with an artisan, trying to be heard over the rowdy children.

    "Why don''t you all go see the temple?" the beleaguered mother asked, tacking on a smile to try and hide her vexation. This got a chorus of excitement from three of her four children. But the youngest just sat stubbornly by a small wooden table, dropping a marble onto a wooden track, and watching it roll down the tiered contraption until it reached its conclusion, then the young girl would drop the next marble from a nearby cup.

    "Come on, either we all go, or none of us go!" asserted the most rotund of the group, although they were all hale, hardy, and stout children. The youngest, a barrel chested little girl without so much as a nub poking out from her straight hair, shook her head.

    "I need to do this three more times!" she insisted obstinately. The other children stamped their cloven hooves.

    "Why three?" the oldest asked, her small horns barely peeking out from her curly dark hair.

    "Because I need to make a rainbow! I can''t leave with an incomplete rainbow!" the youngest Caprian insisted. She had sent red, orange, and yellow glass baubles through, and they lined up neatly in a row in the catch bowl. Settled on her task, she dropped a green marble through.

    "Come on, let''s just go..." her brother said to the older two. They all nodded and agreed. But the youngest was so very focused, she didn''t even notice. Her mother had meanwhile moved on to another stall, but was within view. Once the rainbow was complete, the youngest gazed down at it, proud at herself for knowing the correct order, because being correct was so very important. "Light becomes the rainbow!" Her tuft of a tail wagged with pleasure beneath her full skirt.

    However, she looked around and noticed her older siblings were absent. Raising her shoulders and stooping her head forward, she slunk over to where her mother was, grabbing for her hand. Her mother gave her an reflexive squeeze, but continued in a heated negotiation over some goods. "Mother, mother, I made a rainbow!"

    "Wonderful, Liata," her mother quickly said, and in the same breath continued to haggle with the vendor. Liata gave her mother''s arm a tug and her mother let go. She spared her daughter only a quick glance. "Go find your siblings and play with them for a while."

    "But..."

    "Go now," her mother insisted. Silenced by the wall of adult concerns, Liata pouted and walked away. But where were they? Surely, they went to the temple. So Liata set off, going as fast as her stumpy goat legs would carry her.

    The temple grounds were immaculately maintained, with verdant lawns and rows of manicured flower beds all around. The structure itself was blocky and not terribly impressive to Liata''s untrained eye. Where were the spires and statues? Where were the glistening walls? These stones looked a bit... green to her. Like lichen-covered rocks she''d seen by the rivers. There was no river there though. At least it was up on a hill and was almost visible against the forest that hedged it in on three sides.

    Liata called timidly out for her siblings. No response. She walked around outside the fence that surrounded the temple proper, concerned that she should not pass the threshold. She knew only adults were allowed inside the temple. Only adults who were worthy. And the way she was constantly nagged, she doubted she''d qualify. Liata decided to walk around the entire perimeter, her floppy ears listening intently for the sound of her siblings'' voices.

    Liata made a full loop and yet her brothers and sisters were nowhere to be found. She was about to return to the market stalls to find her mother when the distinctive sound of clop-clop-squeak caught her attention. She looked down the road leading away and saw the cart she and her family had arrived in, with its squeaky wheel and ornery pair of mules. It was as if the ground rose up to slap the sky and Liata fell to her knees, staring in disbelief. Recovering herself, she began running, but could manage little more than a toddle as she called out "WAIT! STOP! DON''T LEAVE... me."

    No one heard her. She kept running, following the carriage into the woods. But she could not keep up. At last they disappeared around a bend and Liato knew she couldn''t catch up. The goat-legged child stood, tired and terrified. What had just happened? Was she really... alone?

    Liata''s mind picked over the situation, playing it over in her head on repeat. She shouldn''t have finished her rainbow. But rainbows were divine! They were light divided! And who did they worship but a God of Light? It was her holy duty to know the rainbow! Then she told herself she should have stayed by her mother. But mother told her to go, and the God of Light tells children to always listen to their parents. Not that Liata listened all that often. Why was it the one time she did, she lost everything?

    Everything. Tears welled up in Liata''s eyes. Content to set aside the coals of guilt she was raking herself over, her thoughts turned from the past to the future. What would happen to her? Would she ever see her family again? Would she have to live in the woods like a wild person? Or would some kindly villager take her in? Or would some unkindly people take her in? Would they be cruel to her and make her do all the chores while starving her? That''s what often happened to orphans and abandoned children in all of the stories. It was a requirement to be mistreated if you didn''t have a family of your own. She used to fight with and wish she didn''t have a family, but now she desperately wanted them back.

    "I''m sorry! I''m sorry!" she cried out loud as she began wandering aimlessly in the woods. She prayed and begged forgiveness and sought all sorts of recourse from the deity her family worshipped. Then she began to wander, lost in a woodland. While her kind were considered woodland folk, these were not her home woods, and she felt that everything there was hostile at worst and indifferent at best.

    While walking along she saw a man kneeling by a rabbit snare, finishing off its captive. Hearing her approach, his erect ears swivelled and he turned his head to stare at her, his deep brown eyes and grizzled snout examining her. Seeing her tear-streaked face, he let out a disarming whimper, opening his mouth and allowing his tongue to loll to the side.

    "A little young to be out in the woods all alone, aren''t you?" he asked in a deep voice, rising to his full height, which was more than twice her own. Like all Lupids, he had the head of a wolf and the body of a man. Liata felt weak in her knees. She was always taught to be wary of strangers, and he was certainly strange.

    "I''m... I''m not alone! My mother is nearby! Um... I''m going now!" Liata said turning and running off. The Lupid called after her to wait, and she worried he would chase her down. She ran even faster, hopping over a large branch and weaving between trees, occasionally turning so fast her other foot lost traction and she ended up hopping on one foot, teetering. She ducked behind a rotten stump to catch her breath.

    The good news was, she shook off the scary man. The bad news was she was even more lost than before. Liata stood up, dusting off her pinafore and wiped her eyes with her sleeves. As she wallowed in even greater self pity than before, her ears perked up at the sound of children''s voices. They didn''t sound like her siblings, but she could trust other children, surely!

    Liata followed the sound to a clearing where two Ursini boys were wrestling each other, one playfully nipping the other''s furry, round ear. Laughs and growls melded into each other as they tumbled in the dirt. Liata cautiously approached and cleared her throat. They didn''t notice her. "Um... Hi!"

    This caught their attention. One boy had pinned the other, but now she had two wide-eyed bear faces staring at her. This made Liata a little nervous, but they were young, so they wouldn''t be a threat, right? Unlike Lupids, she had seen Ursini before. But she''d never played with them as they were always too rough.

    "What do you want?" the top boy asked, standing up and helping the other to his feet.

    "I''m lost. Do you know how to get to Brightmark?" Liata asked as sweetly as she could. The boys looked at each other and laughed. She didn''t understand what was so funny about a girl lost in the woods.

    "We don''t go to Brightmark. It''s full of Light worshippers. Hey, are you one too?" the older of the two boys asked.

    "I bet she is," the younger rejoined.

    "I am. What''s wrong with that?" Liata asked, feeling the blood rush to her face. The boys laughed again.

    "The sun don''t care if you pray to it, you know. It''ll keep rising and setting. That''s what Ma says. But the Verdant Goddess, she hears you, and you can see it all around you." The bear-headed boy placed his hand on a tree. "You can look at a tree and touch a tree. Can''t stare at the sun. You''ll go blind. Can''t touch it either."

    "Yeah, can''t touch the sun!" chorused the younger bear boy.

    "That''s why it''s called FAITH! Stupid!" Liata said, balling her fists. "Because you can''t see it or touch it! That''s what my mother said! And I bet she''s smarter than your ma!" Liata spat. The younger boy laughed, but the older boy also balled up his fists. The younger boy immediately stopped and adopted a similar stance.

    "Oh yeah?" He challenged, taking a step forward. Liata trembled but kept her fists balled, although she stepped back.

    "Yeah!" she answered, though a little uncertain.

    "What are you arguing about?" Came a deep, husky but feminine voice. From the thick foliage stepped a towering, buxom Ursini, thick, calloused hands perched on her wide hips.

    "That girl says her ma is smarter than you!" The boy ratted her out, despite Liata gesturing frantically for him to be silent. Her ears flattened and she looked at the woman, mouth hanging open in mortification.

    "I... I... I..." Liata stuttered.

    "Oh? Did she? Child, where is your mother?" the bear woman asked, one brow lifting.

    Liata knew she was in trouble now. She did the only thing she could think of. She ran again. She ran and heared cackles and whoops in her wake, but she didn''t care if they mocked her. She didn''t want to feel the wrath of a mama bear! She thought she heard the woman yelling for her to not go that way, but she wasn''t in a mind to listen.

    Liata''s path was obstructed by a small river, and she came to a halt. She must be very far away. But she was thirsty and hot from all of her crying and running. So she crouched down and took a drink, then splashed her salty face.

    As Liata pondered what to do, she saw a wavering reflection flicker and grow, causing her to jump and fall into the river. Her mouth filled with water and she flailed as she felt the river''s current tug at her loose fitting garments. She splashed and flailed and called out, until to her surprise she felt a hand grip hers. Her small body was pulled out of the water and set upon the river bank. She coughed and sputtered, letting the panic drain out with each dear breath.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    When Liata rolled her head to the side she saw cloven hooves not unlike her own. Excitement and hope sprang and she looked further up at white, woolly legs. Her hope sank, but she was still intrigued as she gazed further up still, seeing a young man wearing a handsome brown waistcoat and gray vest. He looked out of place in the woods, but Liata was still thrilled to see him. He was a sophisticated town-dweller like herself, surely. He put his gloved hand out to her and she took it. She gazed up into his warm brown eyes, the tips of his rams horns pointing at his round, dimpled cheeks seemed to emphasise the warmth of his smile.

    "I didn''t mean to startle you, little girl. What are you doing out here all alone?" His voice made Liata think of how fudge made her feel. She was immediately at ease, despite the chill of dampness.

    "I''m lost. My family left me all alone. Please, can you get me to Brightmark?" Liata asked, gathering up her skirts to wring out the excess moisture.

    "Ah! Dear me, poor lost lamb..."

    "Kid. I''m a kid."

    "My mistake." The man laughed musically. "Come with me, and I''ll get you warm and dry, and then we''ll take you to Brightmark. You can''t show up in town looking half drowned!"

    "Oh..." Liata was always taught not to go into a stranger''s house. But Liata felt a kinship with the man. After hesitation she said, "I shouldn''t go places with strangers. So... what''s your name?"

    "Stevnar Kard, but you can call me Stevie," Stevnar introduced, thrusting his hand out again. Liata took it, beaming.

    "I''m Liata Roughwood." Liata shook his hand. "Now we''re not strangers!"

    "Oh ho ho, that we are not, Little Miss Roughwood." Being called Miss Roughwood gave her a feeling of pride and grown-up-ness. "Shall we go?"

    As they walked, Liata told Stevnar all about her family and the long trip they took to visit her grandmother in addition to visiting the Temple of Light. He didn''t seem to think she was strange for worshipping the light, and told her she sounded like a little angel. It was nice to hear, although she knew she made some big mistakes. She told him about her wandering in the woods and the scary people she met, and he agreed that she was right to distrust them and run. The validation was a balm to her heart, but she still could not shake off the lingering sadness from her sense of abandonment.

    They arrived at a cosy cabin in a clearing. The later afternoon sun bathed the wooden building in a warm glow and it looked like an illustration from a picture book. The soggy Caprian stood and admired it before following her new friend Stevnar inside. There was already a fire cracking in the fireplace, but Liata didn''t stop to think how odd that was. She just sat beside it while Stevnar got her a towel to wrap up in and dry off. He then brought her some fruit jellies and crunchy sweet biscuits that she happily devoured.

    "There. You are looking a lot better now. But the sun is getting low and I dare not walk these woods in the evening. Not with Lupids and Ursini prowling. So How about I make up a nice little cot for you by the fire and we will go to Brightmark tomorrow?" Stevnar suggested. Liata licked her fingers and poked at the crumbs on her plate until they stuck, then sucked them off. She almost thought it might be nice to just stay with Stevnar forever. But she didn''t dare suggest it. She just smiled and nodded.

    Stevnar''s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and for a moment he didn''t look quite as young before. Liata blinked. It was probably just a trick of the fire light. She held up her plate. "Where do I take my dirty dish?" She asked. She was determined to be a good girl. At home she''d just wait for her mother to gather up the dishes and sigh at her. But not with Mr. Kard! She was going to be a better little girl and then she''d never be abandoned again.

    As promised a cot was made up and Stevnar let her borrow one of his shirts to wear to bed. She tucked under a warm quilt by the fire and tried not to think about how much she missed her family. Stevnar was nice but who would she play with? And a few times she thought she heard footsteps or the floor creak and asked if he lived alone, and he told her that he did. How very odd. But all the day''s perils and tender mercies soon fled from her as she drifted off to sleep.

    In the middle of the night Liata woke up. She thought she heard children crying. Liata decided it was just a nightmare and tried to go back to sleep. Then she remembered everything that happened the previous day and she sat up. She thought of her mother driving away and began crying again. Was there an echo? How odd. She held her breath and listened. There were definitely muffled cries that weren''t her own.

    Liata followed the voices, which grew to wails, then became quite for a while. Eventually she found a spot where the floor made a hollow sound under her hooves. The corner of the rug was slightly flipped up. She knelt down and rolled away the rug, discovering a hatch. Shaking, Liata pulled it open. The crying got louder. Did someone fall down and hurt themselves? But Stevnar said there was no one else there. Maybe it was a ghost? The ghost of a naughty child who cried over its misdeeds. Liata was about to go get Stevnar when she heard the voice speak.

    "Please don''t sell me, Mr. Kard. Please let me go back to my Mum," the voice quavered. Surely, this child was confused. Stevnar wouldn''t sell someone. He was good and kind and woolly and warm. Liata decided to go down and reassure the child that they were mistaken. It was very dark, though, and Liata didn''t have good night vision. She thumped and bumped and put her hands out, until she felt something cool and hard.

    "Hello?" Her hand wrapped around it. She brought her other hand forward and found another. Two vertical cylinders, probably made of metal. What were these bars doing down here? Then she felt a clammy hand over the backs of her fingers and she yelped and backed away.

    "Run away! Mr. Kard is a liar! Go!" said the child excitedly. Liata shook her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

    "No! Stevie is very kind. He won''t sell you," Liata insisted.

    "Go! Or you''ll be put in the cage with me!" Squealed the other child. Liata felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She was about to refute the child and try to reassure them, moving forward to find them. But groping in the dark, all she could find was a row of bars. There really was a cage! "GO!"

    Then there was a creak and both went silent. Liata held her breath, and couldn''t hear any noise from the other child. Just the clip-clop of footsteps over head. Slowly a dim orange light drifted down from the open hatch, a hand lowered a candlestick from above.

    "Oh, Little Miss Roughwood. You were being such a good girl, but I''m afraid you have done a very naughty thing," came Stevnar''s voice. He descended and Liata watched with fear. Just when she thought she was finally safe, her new friend turned out to be a villain after all. She wanted to hold on to the hope that it was a misunderstanding, but where there was warmth in his smile, now was a predatory and cruel grin.

    Liata balled up her fists. She had nowhere to run. Nowhere to go but through Stevnar. She charged straight at him, barely seeing his eyebrows rise in surprise before she brought her head into his knees. He staggered forward, dropping the candle which sputtered and hissed as it rolled away. Liata began climbing the ladder, the smell of wax and smoke filling her nostrils. She was doing it! She was getting away! She-

    "NO YOU DON''T!" Liata felt her leg get grabbed and she was pulled down off the ladder. She screamed and tumbled onto Stevnar. The little barrel chested girl was heavy for her size, which caught the sheep man off guard and both of them fell to the ground. The room, meanwhile, was getting brighter and warmer as the candle had discovered a dusty old cloth that was draped over some old furniture.

    "Lemme GO!" Liata screamed, flailing and trying to slip out of Stevnar''s grip. The fire added an extra layer of panic to her, causing her to fight more ferociously than before. But she was just a little girl, and he was not. Stevnar eventually pinned her arms to her side in a huge bear hug, forcing her onto his lap.

    "Look what you''ve done!" he scolded, forcing her to face the growing blaze. "If I didn''t have a quota to fill, I''d let both of you brats burn down here!" Stevnar squeezed her tighter and Liata squeaked, feeling the smoky air rush out of her lungs. Shuffling on his knees, he dragged her to a corner where there was a coil of rope and began binding her. Liata bawled, helpless and afraid. All she could do was wonder what she had done to deserve this? Where was the God of Light her mother always said would look out for them? Did he abandon her, too?

    Stevnar looked at the Lepidese girl in the cage. "I''ll come back for you, stay low," he told her, pointing his finger at her. She whimpered and flattened herself on the ground. Stevnar began climbing the ladder one more time, the crackling of the fire growing louder. Liata felt a tug at the rope around her and she stumbled to the base of the ladder. The floorboards above moaned and creaked. Just as Stevnar was about to open the hatch, it flung open of its own accord, causing him to let out a startled noise.

    Liata looked up, eyes stinging and blurry as a pair of hands reached down and grabbed Stevnar, pulling him up through the hatch. She saw his legs kicking uselessly and the man screamed. Liata shut her eyes, crying piteously. There was something even scarier than Stevnar up there, and she didn''t want to see it.

    Liata wasn''t sure how long she had squatted in the corner, trying to keep away from the flames. But then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She squealed and pulled away, unable to flail her bound arms.

    "We got to go!" growled a voice. She felt the ropes around her loosen. At this she opened her eyes, and saw a blurry tall figure silhouetted against the fire. The little girl from the cage, a pale slip of a girl with longer ears than Liata, held the other man''s hand. He offered her his hand, with nothing else to do, she took it. He lifted her up and she scrambled quickly up the metal ladder, which was getting warm to the touch. Liata''s head popped up and her eyes cleared. Standing nearby she saw a curvy figure looming in the moonlight. It was the Ursini woman!

    "Come child, let''s get you out of here," came her low but gentle voice. Liata ran to her, and she put her arms about her. "It''s alright."

    Next the Lepidese girl sprang from the hatch and she looked around, seeming hunched over from too much time in the cage. She limped over to Liata and the mama bear. Lastly, a wolf head popped up from the hatch.

    "Where is Stevie?" Liata asked as she stepped back.

    "He won''t be hurting anyone ever again," said the man, before he fell into a fit of smoky coughs. Liata''s eyes popped wide open.

    "You didn''t EAT him!?"

    "What!? No! He''s tied up until we can bring in the sheriff," the Ursini woman exclaimed.

    "Oh." Was all Liata could think of to say. Something told her she needed to say more. An apology came to mind, but she was so tired, sore, and confused that no words came. Both the Ursini and Lupid seemed to understand. They took Liata to another cabin where she and the other little girl could sleep safely.

    In the morning, Liata was prodded awake by one of the boys she''d met. Before Liata could make sense of where she woke up, he was pawing at her and saying "The Sheriff wants to see you."

    This caused her to freeze. Oh no! Was she in trouble? The previous day came rushing back. She would have thought it all a dream if her throat didn''t hurt, and if she wasn''t in an unfamiliar bed. The boy tugged at her hand, dragging her out of bed. Liata saw in the bed next to her the other little girl, but she was still asleep.

    Liata was led into a den decorated with furs and leather furniture. The younger boy laid on his belly on a furry rug. Sitting in a chair was brown furred Lupid with a black mask marking. "There you are! Liata Roughwood, right?"

    "Y-yes sir," Liata said. She was taught to always be polite to lawmen, even if they were scary. But she''d learned a hard lesson the previous night. Not all scary looking people were bad, and not all kindly seeming people were good.

    "Good. Come with me!" he said, standing up. Liata trembled but went with him. She paused, looking back at the Ursini family. "Thank you so much for saving me!"

    "Well. They say never mess with a Mama bear," the Ursini woman said, rolling up her sleeves. "And I''ll protect any child in danger." Liata gave her a full grin, exposing her gapped teeth.

    "Good bye!" Liata said fondly.

    The sheriff led her to a patrol wagon. She got to ride up front with him, which was very exciting. She''d never ridden in a patrol wagon before. Although she''d never wanted to ride in one before, as usually they were carrying bad people. She wondered if Stevnar was in the back, but didn''t really want to know.

    Liata was quiet during the ride back to Brightmark. She tried to think about everything that happened and what it all meant. Self reflection, however, is a heavy task for one so young, and she drifted off, leaning on the Lupid next to her.

    "Lia! OH LIA!" Was she dreaming? Lia was sure that she heard her mother calling out to her. She opened her eyes and stretched. Blearily, she looked around. Rushing over to her was her mother! "Lia!"

    "MAMA!" Liata shrieked with joy. She nearly fell off of the rider''s seat, getting steadied by the sheriff. Her mother arrived and grabbed her up in her arms, hugging her tight. "Oh Mama! You didn''t leave me!"

    "Of course we didn''t! We went looking for you! Someone said they saw you in the forest, but it was all lies," her mother explained. She looked beyond her mother to where her siblings sat in their old cart. "Oh Liata! Never, EVER worry me like that again!"

    Liata just hugged her mother tight. "I won''t Mama. I''m sorry! I''ll be good from now on! I promise."

    This was a promise many a child made, but rarely kept. But that is hardly the point. Liata was happy just to be able to say those words to her family once more.

 Spare the Rod

    Spare The Rod

    The wind blew the long grass that tickled Tal''s ankles. That is, what grass had managed to spring up from the snowy prison that held its shorter cousins captive. He was sure he had some ice crystals stuck in his frog, and he fidgeted and lightly stamped his hoofed foot, while trying not to attract much attention. He feared the reproachful eye of his relatives as they gathered around the deep hole, into which a modest pine casket was lowered.

    Tal had been warned that no noise would be tolerated, and that complete silence was the only way to show reverence for the deceased. But it was hard when the wind was howling in his long ears, and his only formal trousers were a bit too short, exposing his lower legs to all manner of sensation. Tal fidgeted as he tried not to look upon the casket bearing his grandfather''s body. Tears welled up in his large eyes, the thick lashes of which were frosted with snowflakes. All he could think was "I''ll never get to play horseshoes with Grandfather now."

    Tal''s memory drifted to the last time they''d made the long journey to visit his grandparents. Tal''s family had settled far from their homelands on the plains, and as such, Tal did not get to see his cousins or grandparents often. It was always a difficult journey, especially for a little lad like himself. Long trips pushing carts and sleeping under the stars, which meant hard ground, lots of biting insects, and waking up shivering and coated in the morning dew. But once they arrived, it was well worth the journey. He never felt alone at his grandparents'' farm. There was always a whirlwind of family coming and going and cousins to play with. It wasn''t like at home where his parents worked hard all day. His chores were never sufficient to keep him occupied, and he was often left to his own devices. Which also meant, he had plenty of opportunities to get into trouble.

    Tal remembered one particular spot of trouble he got into. His grandparents'' house was unusually busy. Normally his grandmother was content to sit in a dimly lit room with a blanket and shawl, while his hard of hearing grandfather would happily show off the training of his hounds, all with their different jobs on the farm. Hunting, herding, protection. Tal was fascinated with them all, and his grandfather enjoyed his enthusiasm.

    But that day, his grandfather, and various uncles, aunts, and cousins were all going to the Liberation Tournament. Tal''s people, the Asinites, had been enslaved and the mark of their slavery were shoes of iron nailed to their hooves, or so the story went. A large part of this tournament was to toss these implements of torture towards a metal stake in the ground, symbolic of casting off their enslavement. Tal''s grandfather and several of his uncles were particularly good at this sport, and Tal was also going to get to learn himself! He was excited and eager to prove himself!

    The carts were loaded with all manner of nice things for a day out. Blankets and canvas, reed baskets laden with various breads and biscuits, preserves, and savouries, and necessary equipment and comfort items. The large group all began travelling together to the fairgrounds in an informal caravan. Tal was zipping from cart to cart, poking in to see what exciting things were packed for the event. When he wasn''t getting into things he ought not, he was peppering various members of his extended family with questions.

    They were almost halfway there when Tal spotted something moving along the side of the path, weaving in and out of the grass. His eyes became wide as saucers as he came to realise what it was: a snake. It darted between two rocks to get away from the noise and thunder of so many feet pounding beaten ground. But Tal wasn''t about to be deterred. He squatted down on his haunches and used his walking stick to shift the rocks. Immediately a loud hiss and rattling sound met his ears and he took a step back, as the coiled, olive green reptile lifted its head menacingly. Tal looked over his shoulder as one of his Uncles walked by, minding a handcart.

    "Keep playing in the dirt and you''ll be left behind, Tal!" his uncle warned him. Tal swished his tasselled tail and looked back at the snake. It continued to rear up, its small head facing Tal. Another hiss. Tal took his walking stick and poked it at the snake, letting out a delighted giggle when the snake lunged at the stick. Boy, was it angry. Tal slipped the stick under the snake and flipped it up. In a panic, it wound itself around the stick, gripping it tight lest it be flung.

    Amused by this, Tal looked up and saw two of his cousins, twins, trailing behind everyone. Carefully lifting his snake on a stick, he snuck up behind the sisters, who were so engrossed in their conversation they hardly noticed their young cousin. He lifted up the stick hanging it over their shoulders. At the sound of a hiss both looked over and then screamed. The snake was just as afraid of them as they were of it, but did the only thing it could. It struck out at one of the girls, nipping her on her exposed ear. Both of the girls started running, one holding her ear as she cried.

    "Ooops," Tal frowned. Now he had to get rid of the evidence. He tried to shake the snake off, but it remained a grip and began to slither slowly along the stick towards his hands. It kinked its body up tight, letting out another raspy noise. Afraid it would bite him, he dropped the stick and left it in the road, running to catch up with his family.

    "TAL!" Tal''s fuzzy, brown ears twisted back as his shoulders rose. He looked down, not wanting to face the angry faces of the adults. But when hooves came into view, he slowly looked up with his large, brown eyes. From the kilt to the belt to the crossed arms. Further up still and he was met with an intense frown that pulled jowls down further. The whole picture of a face was coming clearer as he was met with glaring eyes. There were many lines creasing the forehead of his older aunt. Tal gulped.

    "Y-yes?" Tal squeaked.

    His aunt wasted no time. Her hands may have looked thin and frail, with the pale skin barely stretching over the bulging blue veins, but they snatched up his ear in a vice-like pinch that it was no wonder she had the nickname ''Aunt Crabby'' instead of Mabbie. "You''re lucky that wasn''t a cockatrice! If you can''t behave, I''ll take you back to the homestead."

    "You wouldn''t! You can''t!" Tal fussed. This was the first time he''d get to see his grandfather compete. It was a big event!

    "Oh? I can''t, can I not?" Aunt Mabbie said, expanding her chest with a deep breath and looking down at him, some of the short curls of her salt and pepper hair flipped up as she jerked her chin up imperiously, appearing like horns to Tal.

    "This is THE GAMES!" Tal insisted, crossing his arms. He began to try and walk past his Aunt Mabbie, but she yanked on his ear again and he let out a howl. He saw the cousins up ahead looking back over their shoulders and giggling. Her ear wasn''t even bleeding from the bite that he could see from this distance. He didn''t understand what the big deal was. "Lemme go!"

    "I think not. Once we get there, there will be crowds and crowds. And if you can''t behave here, I hate to think how you''ll behave under the cover of a throng." Striking with the celerity of the snake Tal had previously weaponised, she seized his wrist. He tried to pull against her, but it was no use. She shrugged the pack she had slung over her shoulder and dragged him over to her Uncle. "I''m taking this one back, where he can think about what he''s done in peace and quiet. Let his parents know so they don''t worry."

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "No! No no no! I''ll be good! I promise! I''ll tell them I''m sorry!" Tal looked at the girls who were getting further away. He waved frantically at them, tears streaming down his face. "I''M SORRY!" he shouted. No more giggles, this got a loud chorus of laughter. But they did not look back to pause. Tal felt hot and angry. He stomped his hoof.

    "You should have thought of how sorry you''d be before you stuck a snake in someone''s face. How would you feel if someone did that to you?" His aunt asked, pulling him in the opposite direction. He looked over his shoulder as his uncle hurried to catch up with the rest and spread the word. He kept hoping his parents would hear of this injustice and come galloping to his rescue. But the caravan got further and further away, and no dust cloud dramatically rose into the sky, announcing the speedy entrance of his parents. After a while, Tal stopped looking back, but he didn''t stop sobbing. He wanted his Aunt to hear every whimper and sniffle.

    Tal was exhausted when they got back to his Grandparents'' house. His aunt didn''t seem at all fatigued, which annoyed him. As she often seemed too tired to play or deal with him or his cousins most of the time. Perhaps his tears strengthened her rather than wore her down, as it often had his parents. If he wasn''t so mad, he''d marvel.

    "Now then, it''s been a long walk. Let''s get you a drink and I''ll fix you up with something to eat," his aunt said in a very functional, matter-of-fact tone. She didn''t seem to still be mad at him, but he was raging at her.

    "I''m not hungry!" Tal spat as he stomped into the house. He tried to slam the door on her, but she caught it and pushed herself in, unperturbed. She closed the door much more gently, as if to further frustrate his thirst for noise and drama.

    "Yes you are," his Aunt responded dismissively as she went straight into the kitchen.

    Tal angrily threw himself onto the floor, beating the ground with his fists and hooves. It smelled of dog fur, dust, and old people. After a while, he gave up those theatrics and sprang to his feet. His Aunt called him in to the kitchen to eat. He stomped around in a circle. "I AM NOT HUNGRY! I WANT TO GO BACK! I WANT TO GO BACK!"

    "You aren''t going back. Now come in and eat." his Aunt called again from the kitchen. He heard a clink and he could smell a pleasant aroma. Toasted bread, with cheese and jam! He loved cheese and jam! He paused in his stomping, as if rethinking his protest. No. He had to hold firm. He grabbed a bundled blanket off the shelf and threw it down on the ground. He then grabbed a cushion and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and then fell limply onto the floor. "THIS ISN''T FAIR! I''M MISSING THE TOURNAMENT!"

    Tal really couldn''t believe that they''d made it home. He was sure his piteous pleas and sad noises would have softened his aunt''s heart and they would turn around. Now that he was back at the house, the reality of it all came crashing down. His siblings and cousins were all having fun without him. And they''d come back and talk about it. And all of this because he played a harmless prank!

    "And when you''re done yelling, there''s a glass of water for you. It''ll be a long, lonely wait on an empty stomach."

    Why wasn''t she getting mad? She was always cross with them. Where did all of this calmness come from? Tal just roared at the top of his lungs. "YOU''RE MEAN! I HATE YOU!"

    "That''s fine with me. Mmmm." his Aunt responded in the gap where he needed to catch his breath before he could unleash more hollering.

    After a while his throat hurt, his body ached, and he was, in fact, very hungry. Ears and shoulders drooping he finally walked into the kitchen, his hooves knocking on the hardwood floor. His aunt was licking her fingers and she had an empty plate with crumbs and a few purple smudges on it before her. His eyes went wide. Did she eat the snack she''d made for him? "HEY!"

    "You should have come when I called. I wasn''t going to let good food go to waste," his aunt said. Tal began crying. He was hungry and he couldn''t think or feel straight and this woman was the absolute meanest, most horrible person.

    Suddenly, from beneath the table, she lifted up a plate. He looked up with hope as she set it down on the table, gesturing to a spot beside her on the bench. Dining chairs were not practical for Asinites, but the benches did provide a rest for their thighs. Some preferred tall tables and to eat standing, but sitting was more common in the modern houses.

    Tal eased his rump down, tail flicking side to side as his ears perked up. His face was caked with tears and snot but he didn''t care. He tucked in to his tart and salty toast. His aunt passed him a napkin, but he ignored it, preferring instead to try his best to lick the lingonberry jam off his chin. He tried a few more times stubbornly, but could not get the very end of it. So he resorted to stubbornly wipe it onto his sleeve.

    "Go wash your face, you''re a mess," his aunt instructed. He was tempted to stick his tongue out and run off, but it occurred to him that maybe she would walk him to the fairgrounds if he behaved himself. So he hopped over the basin, staring at the misty water. It didn''t look terribly clean to him, but he shrugged, dipped a flannel in, and wiped his face furiously. It was cold, but felt good after all the heat from his anger.

    It was boring at his grandparents'' house without the dogs to play with, or other cousins or siblings. And Aunt Mabbie wasn''t very fond of games. She kept insisting she was too tired after their long walk to play. She tried to interest him in a conversation, but it rarely went anywhere and Tal quickly grew impatient.

    "When are we going back to the fairgrounds?" He finally asked.

    "We aren''t. I''m too tired, and it''d take too long to go now," Aunt Mabbie explained.

    "But I''ve been good!" Tal insisted.

    "I''m glad. But that doesn''t change that it''s too late now. How about we read a book?"

    Tal gawked in disbelief. HIs anger rekindled, and he stomped his foot and began his tantrum anew. And despite his blustering and using every hateful word he could think of, his Aunt Mabbie remained as serene as the eye of a storm. That was until he said some naughty words he had learned from older boys at his town, in which case he soon was literally frothing at the mouth, with the taste of soap in his mouth.

    Through all the highs and lows, he kept expecting his Aunt Mabbie to break and to get his way. It wasn''t that he was never disciplined before. He''d been whipped across the flank many times with the switch his father carried. He hated it. But it did not bring out the same desperation that missing this tournament did. He was never denied something that only came once a year. No matter how badly he behaved, he was always included in family affairs. This was a new and unfathomable punishment.

    Tal sniffed as the silent part of the funeral was coming to an end. That memory stuck in his mind. He gave a glare towards Aunt Mabbie, who stood there, shivering. But she had that same, placid, insurmountable visage. To his surprise, despite her lifted chin stern expression, her eyes were red and glistened in what little light filtered through the hazy, gray skies.

    Tal thought about Aunt Mabbie. He had lost out on something valuable. His Grandfather had gotten sick and they did not attend the tournament the following year. And the year after that, his father passed away. His lungs gave out. He never got to see his grandfather compete. He never got to be taught how to play, not like his older siblings had. Aunt Mabbie deprived him of that. In a way, he felt as though his Aunt had taken his grandfather away. And yet, despite the burning in his bosom, he felt an odd awe towards her. Tal would never dare cross her again. She held in her hands the power to take something away that could not be given back. And that was truly frightening.

    Tal had learned a very hard lesson. There was more at stake than just a few swats or missing a meal. For every treat he was denied, he got one later when he was good. But no amount of being good would bring his grandfather back. No amount of being bad would either. Tal felt a lump in his throat, unsure what to do with these thoughts and feelings. He couldn''t hold it in any longer. He turned and buried his face in his mother''s skirts and sobbed.

    Life wasn''t fair.

 Jealousy

    Jyncole paced furiously, vigorously tearing up a piece of paper.  The fragments of paper fluttered around in a furious flurry as her bare feet stomped on the carpeted floor.  "How dare she!?  She promised!"

    After uttering all sorts of oaths, Jyncole''s ears flattened as she looked at the mess she made.  Repentant of her outburst, she knelt down and picked up all of the fragments.  Her pointed ears swivelled at the sound of a knock.  "Go away."

    "Jyn?"

    "I said, GO AWAY!"

    As usual, Jyncole was ignored and the door swung open.  Her mother''s pupils were large and round, leaving only a thin yellow rim around them.  She looked at the scattered pieces of paper that Jyncole had yet to recover.  "Jyn, what''s wrong?"

    "Enna is going to the Pearl Dance with Ardern," Jyncole hissed the name, wrinkles forming on the bridge of her furry nose.  Her mother reached up, brushing the ruff of white fur around her face with her fingers.

    "Of course she is. She''s been stepping out with him, so going to the Pearl with Ardern is only natural." Her mother was guarded in her voice even as she pointed out the obvious.

    "I know!" Jyncole snapped.  Her mother knelt down picking up a few fragments of paper, trying to piece what she could together.  She frowned, seeing the odd lines weaving in and out of each other.

    "Is this one of Enna''s drawings?"

    Jyncole did not like the accusatory tone in her mother''s voice. "Yes," Jyncole crossed her arms.

    Her mother''s eyes narrowed and her ears twisted back. "Did you two fight?"

    Jyncole sighed, her whiskers drooping.  The Felfolk girl took the pieces from her mother and tossed them in the dustbin.  "We had our own plans for Summertide Eve.  But since the Pearl would be her coming out, her mother insisted she go.  We promised we both would attend but not take any lad''s arm.  She broke her promise."

    "You could not expect her to actually keep such a childish promise," her mother said, sounding exasperated.

    Jyncole''s blue eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, baring her pointed teeth.  "A promise is a promise."

    Her mother shook her head and sighed at her daughter''s stubborn streak.  "Does this mean you aren''t going?"

    Jyncole turned away from her mother, shoulders raised and arms still crossed.  She rubbed her upper arms, and then looked over her shoulder, her snout in relief against the afternoon sun that shone in through her bedroom window.  "I don''t know.  I do not wish to see them together.  But I''m too afraid not to go.  I''ll look like a coward."

    "Afraid to look like a coward?" Her mother laughed.  Jyncole pouted at first, but then added in a laugh of her own.

    "I suppose I am being silly."  Jyncole sat on her bed, spent from her tantrum.  "But still it hurts.  We''ve been friends since we were kittens. But the moment a ginger tom steps in, he''s replacing me at every turn.  How is that fair?"

    "You aren''t being replaced, Jyn."

    Jyncole shrugged and made a small sound of agreement as she didn''t feel like discussing it any further.  Even though she changed the topic, she couldn''t help but keep thinking that it felt like she was being replaced.

    <hr>

    "So what shall I bring for our picnic tomorrow?" Jyncole asked as she and Enna walked arm-in-arm home from school.  She had let her temper cool and Enna was none the wiser of the slight she''d paid her childhood friend.  However, Jyncole found her jaw clenching when Enna''s copper eyes glanced down and to the side.  Jyncole''s pupils contracted to slits and she looked away, bracing herself for disappointment.

    "Oh... I forgot.  I told Ardern we''d see a play together.  And afterwards I have a dress fitting," Enna admitted, her ears twisting away guiltily.  "Sorry."

    Jyncole''s eye twitched and the fur on her face fluffed out.  She smoothed it all down with frantic hands before Enna looked back at her. "Oh?  Too bad.  Which play?" Jyncole tried to mask her growing anger.

    "The Howl of the Lupid King," Enna murmured.

    That did it.  Jyncole''s fur bristled again and she didn''t even try to tame it.  "Oh, you mean the play I invited you to and you said was too offensive to go see?"

    "Uh... yeah.  That one," Enna said, folding her arms.  Her ears went from twisted to flat.

    "And your mother approves?" Jyncole added, barely keeping the growl out of her voice.

    Enna scratched her ear, still avoiding eye contact.  "Only because it''s the matinee where no mischief can occur."

    "Ah, my dear, sweet, weathervane of a friend.  And how did he change your mind?  Cajoling?  Bribery? Or did he just purchase tickets and tell you that you were going?" Jyncole asked, arms crossed.

    "I do not like your tone, Jyncole."  Enna finally turned to face her friend, brows burdened and mouth left slightly agape, showing her delicate black lower lip.

    "I do not like being set aside, or by how easily you let this tom influence you.  And what happens when he starts taking liberties?  Threatens your virtue?"

    "He won''t!" Enna responded emphatically. "Jyn, this is merely a play we''re going to! You remind me of a jealous suitor."

    Jyncole was about to inject another verbal barb when the words ''jealous suitor'' struck a chord in her.  She eyed Enna uneasily a moment, ears back, but then they perked forward along with her whiskers, pupils dilating.  She stared off in the distance, tracking movement to distract herself from troubling thoughts. Jealous suitor. Am I jealous?  More than as a friend?

    Held in silence, Jyncole looked at her friend again.  Enna had slowed her pace and was glancing at her, then glancing away, eyes shimmering in vain attempts to hold back tears.  Jyncole admitted that she always admired Enna''s silky black fur.  But was it more than admire?  She was vexed every time a boy took notice of Enna.  She should be happy for her, shouldn''t she?

    Jyncole refocused her thoughts.  No.  She knew Ardern.  She''d already rejected him when he tried to pay her court.  Then he slunk to her impressionable, sensitive friend, who was more eager to please.  More eager to fill traditional roles.

    Jyncole looked up when she realised they were in front of Enna''s door.  "Just promise me you won''t let him use the Summertide as an excuse..." Jyncole trailed off.  Enna tilted her head to the side, twitching an ear.

    "Excuse for what?" Enna asked.

    "Coming of age, he''ll have to join either the military or fishing fleets this summer.  Don''t let him use that to get you to promise anything, or do anything you aren''t ready for," Jyncole said.  Enna gave a sideways jerk of her head, twisting her ears back as if about to say something angrily, but then her ears perked forward and she half closed her eyes submissively.

    "...Thanks for looking out for me. You''ve always tried to guide me. But you don''t need to treat me like a child, Jyn.  We''re both young women," Enna said diplomatically.

    "Sorry. It''s only because I love you." Jyncole immediately looked away.

    Enna stared at her a moment, ears erect.  She had nothing more to say and she hastily went inside.  Jyncole was relieved that Enna ended the conversation there, mortified for having said that much.  Love was a word Jyncole was not accustomed to wielding, and wasn''t sure why she let it slip.

    Jyncole''s mind was full when she continued on home.  She kept questioning why she was filled with jealousy and dread whenever she saw Enna with Ardern.  It was the same with the other boy who kept paying too much attention to her, although it came to nothing. Ardern had been a friend, even an admirer of hers, but now she felt intense hostility towards him.  This unsettled her.

    Thoughts drifted to worries.  Worries flowed into broader subjects.  Jyncole thought of the history they had been learning. The obvious propaganda of the ruling class, the Panthera, who claimed themselves superior to the Felfolk of the Kaska Coast and their rightful lords.  But Jyncole could not deny that though they were strict in an unfair hierarchy, they helped a scattered and vicious people become civilised.  They brought stewardship of their land and marriage to them over a century ago, and now it was ingrained in their culture.  There was lingering fear of overpopulation, poverty, rampant disease, and frequent death of women from bearing too many children in rapid succession.  Before, the men never stayed and helped women raise children, forcing them to work together or strike out alone.  Now they had family units, which were nice and tidy and supportive.  Although... it was hard to get out of a marriage, even when a partner was flagrantly abusive, such as her father was.  And that was why she was keen not to marry at all, and had a lasting distrust of men in general.

    These thoughts brought Jyncole back to her friend, Enna.  The sweet girl had two loving parents.  She had no idea what it was like to be abused by all the men in one''s life, whether it was a father, brother, or tutor.  She trusted them too easily.  And Jyncole feared for Enna.  Feared Ardern would leave her in trouble, and there wasn''t much support for women who threatened the population with unplanned and unsupported children.  It wasn''t a fair system, but it was better than the alternative.  Jyncole felt her blood boil thinking about it.

    <hr>

    Jyncole could feel the eyes on her.  Gasps, whispers, and she was sure one of the chaperones was going to approach her, and tell her she must, for decency sake, leave.  To her astonishment, no one did.  The only discouragement she received directly was being told she would have looked prettier in a dress.

    Enna strode over, her blue skirt swishing about her and hiding her sad lack of hips.  Ardern wasn''t far behind, and Jyncole expected him to say something about the coat tails and slacks she had dared to wear to the Pearl Dance.  Jyncole slanted the derby hat she''d borrowed from her brother-in-law and contently closed her eyes in greeting to Enna, who did the same.

    "I did not think you would actually do it," Enna said quietly.  Her ears twisted back and she looked fretful for a moment, casting a glance around at the gawkers, but then brought her ears fully forward.  Ardern, a tall, creamy furred fellow that looked out of place on the ruddy complexion on the rest of his body, laughed.

    "I thought you didn''t like drawing attention to yourself," Ardern said teasingly.  Jyncole tried not to let her disdain show as she joined in the laughter, putting out an arm to Enna.  Seeing this, Ardern''s laughter ceased and he put out his arm as well.  Enna looked confused between the two, and to compromise, hooked arms with both.

    "The Pearl Dance only comes once for us maidens, I might as well have my five minutes of notoriety before I get cloistered and live my life out as a spinster aunt," Jyncole said, trying to raise her spirits with a bit of humour.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Look!  Fishcakes!" Enna said, directing the attention of everyone to the refreshment table, not liking the way Jyncole and Ardern were looking at each other.

    The mention of food was a successful diversion, as Jyncole''s ears perked up, and Ardern licked his lips.  The three of them sauntered over to the refreshment table, joining the line to pick at the spread of appetisers and hors d''oeuvres. The dancing hadn''t started yet, and the food was a good ice breaker.  Jyncole''s ear kept flicking as she nibbled at her savoury, keeping a sharp eye on Enna and Ardern.

    Throughout the night, Jyncole was rarely far from Enna and Ardern, behaving as an ever present chaperone.  The ever flattening of Ardern''s ears whenever he looked up and saw Jyncole eyeing him was starting to dampen the mood.  Jyncole could not hear what they were saying to each other, but from Enna''s pulled down lower lip and tense brow, she doubted it was anything polite or pleasant. Jyncole wandered closer.

    "...been that long!" Ardern''s voice drifted to Jyncole''s attentive ears.

    "I know, but I''m feeling poorly."  Enna''s ears flexed, turning outwards but not daring to fully flatten.  There was a slight imperceptible snark and wrinkle of the bridge of Ardern''s nose, but Jyncole caught it.

    "I know crowds can be distressing to you, but I''m here.  Try to stay a little longer?" Ardern said in as soothing of a voice as he could, placing a hand on her shoulder.  Jyncole narrowed her eyes, pupils becoming slits.

    "If she wants to leave, shouldn''t you let her?  Don''t be so selfish as to keep her here just for your sake," Jyncole interrupted, quickly placing herself at Enna''s side.  Unlike Ardern, she did not hide her sneer.

    "I''m not, I''m trying to stop her from losing an opportunity," Ardern said, glaring at Jyncole.  He tried to soften his expression as he looked to Enna with entreating, half-closed eyes.  "Enna, you will regret leaving early before the procession of maidens."

    "Oh yes, the rite of passage where we strut out on a lad''s arm and are presented to our mighty striped Lord.  And what then of the young tom''s unofficial but widely popular rite of passage?  Will she factor into yours?" Jyncole tilted her head, one eye wide while the other squinted but didn''t quite wink.

    Through the fur on Enna''s face, one could not see the evidence of blood draining in mortification.  But the soft gasp, wide eyes, and shaking of her pale hands was enough.  Without a word Enna turned swiftly, her skirts billowing before she marched off towards the grooming room.

    Ardern no longer hid his disdain, growling softly as his whiskered cheek drew up like a curtain exposing his pointed teeth.  "Now look what you''ve done!  You''ve ruined her night!  Do you want her to be as miserable and alone as you?"

    "And is she aware that she was your second choice?" Jyncole challenged.  "Or is courting her just a slap in my face for daring to refuse you?"

    "I honestly don''t know what I ever saw in an alleycat like you!" Ardern spat.  The fur atop his head was beginning to rise, and he quickly smoothed it back with his hand.  He turned and walked in a separate direction.  Jyncole hissed at his back and then stormed off to follow Enna.

    Jyncole found Enna sobbing into a handkerchief in the corner of the grooming room.  As Jyncole walked past the mirror, she paused and gave a furtive glance at her reflection.  She wasn''t sure she liked what she saw.  Jyncole took off her hat and walked over to Enna, crouching down to where Enna had knelt.

    "Hush now, hush now, I''m sorry." Jyncole said quietly.  Enna shook her head and said nothing, refusing to look at Jyncole.  Jyncole didn''t blame her.  She felt the guilt and shame squirming in her heart, like maggots in spoiled meat.  Perhaps there was something rotten at Jyncole''s core.  Perhaps she was destined to be miserable.  "I really am sorry.  I''m not just saying that.  I went too far.  I know I need to work on that.  But you must understand, I''m just scared of losing you."

    "You have a strange way of showing it," Enna managed to say in a strained voice, her petite nostrils flaring before she sniffled.

    "Most people do," Jyncole said.  Not only did she feel like a feast for wriggling worms, now she felt a heavy weight in her chest.  And to her surprise, she wondered if a confession was the only way to relieve it?  It was often stated by those Light worshippers that confession was good for the soul.  "Enna..."

    "Yes?" Enna looked up.  Jyncole was unsure why just calling her name got such a reaction, but her pupils were large and round, and her ears perked forward in anticipation.  Jyncole took in some steadying breaths, unsure if she could really say the words.

    "I... I... think I''m in love with you."  Enna just stared at her, then looked down and said nothing.  Jyncole wanted her to say something.  Anything.  Jyncole began to fiddle with her hat.  Still nothing.  With a deep breath, Jyncole continued.  "I know it''s taboo.  And I don''t expect reciprocation.  I think a part of me would be terrified if there was.  But I just want you to know that''s why it hurts me so deeply to see you and Ardern.  He had originally sought after my courtship and I made up excuses... that I wanted to focus on studies, that I wasn''t ready.  But the truth was... well... I just didn''t have any interest in him.  Or anyone.  And... well... then when I realised how jealous I was I began to wonder, and think, that perhaps, it was because my heart belonged to you."

    Enna remained quiet as Jyncole rambled on, pouring out her heart.  Her diseased, wretched heart. It took a while and a few more soft sobs before Enna looked up at Jyncole, their eyes meeting. "Why didn''t you tell me Ardern had asked you first?"

    Jyncole blinked.  She admitted to a shameful and deep truth, and Enna focused on that.  Jyncole felt herself stuttering before any cohesive words could form.  "I... didn''t think it was right to tell anyone, for his sake, that he''d asked and been rejected.  I didn''t dislike him then, I wanted to remain chums."

    "Oh." Enna slowly stood up.  Jyncole scooted back to give her space, and Enna smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt.  Jyncole rose as well, popping her hat back onto her head at a rakish slant.  One ear in, one ear out.

    "Well... anyway... that..." Jyncole stammered.  Enna shook her head and put a hand on Jyncole''s shoulder.  Jyncole flinched.  Why?  Why did she flinch?  Shouldn''t she want to be touched? Jyncole felt her fur bristle and she wanted to flee, but she remained in place.

    "That must have been hard to admit.  But what happens now?  What am I to do with this?" Enna asked, eyes searching.

    This time Jyncole looked away. "I don''t know.  I just thought... telling you would lift this heaviness I was feeling."

    "Did it?"

    "...I''m not sure.  I feel... strange." Jyncole answered truthfully.  Jyncole then looked back up at Enna.  "It''d be best if we just stayed friends, of course.  But I just... guess I want you to understand me better."

    "...Yes we can stay friends, Jyn.  But please, stop being so cruel and embarrassing me like that," Enna entreated.

    Jyncole curled back her lips for a moment, but then relaxed and nodded her head.  "Alright.  I''ll try not to let my jealousy rear its ugly head."

    Enna dabbed at her face, and began to freshen up.  Jyncole studied her feelings.  She did not feel any lighter, but perhaps it would take a good sleep before she felt the effects.  All she felt was somehow like she was still lying to herself.  But what about now?  Something was still hidden there, and she needed to scratch at it and dig it out.  But she was too tired.

    "I think I''ll go home early," Jyncole said.  Enna looked at her and tilted her head.

    "I think I''ll go find my mother and ask to go home as well.  My head hurts.  I just hope my mother will let me go before the procession."

    "I hope so too."

    <hr>

    "Jyn?  Is everything alright?  You''ve been in a daze," came the concerned voice of Jyncole''s mother.  It broke her out of the deep reflections she was in while she sat by the fire, knitting unsuccessfully.  She sighed and untangled the yarn before setting the needles down in a basket by her side.

    "I don''t think I''ll ever be good at this," Jyncole lamented, although her mind was as far from perl stitches as could be.  Her mother gathered up her full skirt before sitting on the sofa next to her daughter.

    "Like all things, it takes practice.  But... I do believe it''s easier to learn a skill when there isn''t something heavy on your mind," her mother surmised.  "Once you''ve become proficient, then you can use the knitting to busy your hands while you battle with your demons."

    Jyncole brought her knees up, carefully draping her skirt over her feet.  Her toes curled over the edge of the cushion she sat upon.  "I did a silly thing that I regret."

    "Oh?"

    "I... told Enna that I was in love with her."

    The silence that spanned between them was only mediated by the crackling of the fire.  Eventually her mother looked off to the side.

    "Oh."

    "I thought it''d somehow make things more bearable.  But I feel heavier now than before, and awkward.  I haven''t been able to spend much time with her since then without wanting to get away.  But I told her it wouldn''t change anything so I''m pretending it hasn''t," Jyncole admitted.

    "Oh... I see," her mother said, her yellow eyes reflecting the fire she stared into.

    "Do you?" Jyncole tilted one of her ears.

    "I think so, Jyncole.  Telling anyone you love them can have mixed results," her mother said carefully.  Her whiskers perked forward and she looked back at her daughter.  "But Jyncole, I don''t doubt that you love Enna.  Anyone can see that."

    "Is it so obvious?" Jyncole asked, alarmed.  A prickling sensation broke out along her skin and she found herself digging into the basket for the yarn and needles.  Her mother reached over, stilling her hand, and Jyncole brought it out empty. "Obviously she doesn''t love me."

    "She does, Jyn, sweetie, she does.  But like most girls your age, she''s going through a lot of transitions, and it''s hard to navigate," her mother said soothingly.  Jyncole stared at her mother, an ear twitching.

    "I don''t think you really understand what I''m saying.  I said I''m in love with her.    But our Tiger overseers have outlawed..."

    "Tut," her mother interrupted.  "Have you done anything... unlawful with her?"

    "No!  Of course not!" Jyncole said, eyes wide and mortified.

    "Do you want to?" her mother asked, keeping a steady gaze on her daughter''s eyes.  She watched as her daughter''s breathing become more erratic.  Her eyes darted around, pupils going from slits to spheres.  Her mouth opened, showing her tiny lower incisors, which were dwarfed by her long canines.  She then closed her mouth and swallowed the lump in her throat and looked back at her mother, ears flat.

    "...No... no I don''t!" Jyncole said, almost in disbelief.  "I really don''t."  Jyncole covered her face with her hands.  "Then why did I say those things? Why am I so jealous?  Why do I want to be by her side but I don''t... want... What''s wrong with me?"

    Jyncole felt her mother''s arm about her shoulders.  She didn''t dare look over at her mother as her face felt warm and tingly, hairs standing on end.  "You love her, and it''s hard for all childhood friends to watch each other grow up and drift apart, as everyone finds their own partners.  It will be painful at first, but eventually, you will also find someone and start your own family.  And while your friends will be important, they won''t be as pivotal in your life that they were in your childhood.  It''s time to let go Jyncole."

    Jyncole lowered her hands, her eyes glistening with unwept tears.  "But I don''t WANT to let go!  And I don''t want..." Jyncole blinked furiously.  "....I don''t want to start a family.  The boys all make my skin crawl." Jyncole coughed.  "But... the girls aren''t... what I want either.  I don''t want anybody, but I don''t want to be alone!"  Jyncole covered her face again, this time heaving out sobs.

    As Jyncole spewed out her confusion and strong emotions, she felt the tender touch of her mother rubbing her back.  Eventually she leaned into her mother''s ample bosom, finding solace there.  Her mother petted the fur atop her head and looked her over with partially closed eyes. "No one wants to be alone."

    "But I will be, won''t I?" Jyncole moaned.

    "I don''t know, Jyn, I don''t know.  I don''t understand what you are going through, all I see is my daughter is in distress.  I''m here, and as long as I am, you are not alone,"  Jyncole turned her head, pressing her cheek into the folds of her mother''s blouse, tears staining the fabric.  Arms wrapped around her, Jyncole remained in that embrace as long as she could.  Whatever the future may bring, she was not alone in that moment.  And that was worth to her more than a dozen suitors.

    When the sobs had subsided, Jyncole flattened her ears and looked up into her mother''s eyes.  "Maybe it''s my lot to be an old maid.  But I can be a comfort to you in your old age, without losing anything or giving anything up."

    "Hush, don''t talk like that.  You''re young, and things may become clear to you someday," her mother reproached tenderly.

    "I think things are coming clear tonight.  I''ve made a fool of myself.  But that will pass.  My friends will all move on, but you''ll never choose to leave me, and I''ll never choose to leave you," Jyncole was resolved.

    "And who will take care of you in your old age?"

    This gave Jyncole pause in her heroic self revelation.  If she had no family, where would she go when she was old and ailing?  Jyncole sat up and wiped her eyes.  "I have a lifetime to figure that out."

    "That you do, Jyncole, that you do."

    The two remained cosily set up by the fire.  Jyncole watched as it slowly dwindled down to embers.  While she had thought herself in love with her friend, she didn''t feel the peace with herself as she did now, realising that it was all folly.  The idea of being alone scared her, but was oddly comforting in putting it into words.  She identified it, and she could face it.  It would get harder as she grew, but for the present, she had her friends and family, and she would cherish every moment.

 Will-o-the-wisp

    Crackling and bubbling filled the air as the pot suspended over the campfire trembled.  A tall man with four-point antlers and the legs of a stag stood over it, sniffing the contents intently then coughing as the smoke blew towards him.  He fanned the smoke away, blinking his eyes free of the tears that welled up.  With a croak, he announced, "Burr, soup''s ready."

    "Mushroom again?" The flap to the tent peeled open and a younger Cervidien, half-man, half-deer like the fellow at the fire, stepped out. Evenings were getting colder, prompting the younger man to wrap his fur cloak tighter.  He shuffled over and squat down on his haunches by the fire, placing his hands out to warm his calloused fingers.

    "Mushroom and pine bark.  Saving the nuts for when we go back to the crell. If we arrive without contributions, we will not have much chance of finding you a mate," the taller of the two said as he stirred the concoction.  The chunky brown liquid was ladled into an oblong bowl, and handed over.  The younger Cervidien stared at it a moment in silence before nodding.

    "Thank you, Shua."  His voice was quiet, and not entirely convincing of the gratitude it ought to convey.  Shua arched an eyebrow at his young companion as he served up his own supper.

    "Young bucks like yourself need to strike out on your own.  Preferably to settle down with a woman.  You would not wish to end a lonely vagrant."  Shua stirred the pot, removing it from the fire so that what remained would not burn.  Getting no response from the lad, he continued, "Burr, my lad, single folks like ourselves are not allowed to own land.  That is the dream, the legacy: land."

    "You never settled down," Burr responded, bringing the bowl to his mouth, feeling the steam tickle his face.  He hesitated, gently bringing it to his lips to test the temperature before pulling it away.  Too hot.

    "There was a shortage of eligible women.  And when we got more, I was already too used to my own company to bother with a doe of my own." Shua sat on a stump nearby and waited for the cool air to equalise the hot meal.

    "Yet you took me in as a fawnling," Burr remarked, dropping down his cloak onto the chilled ground and sitting upon it.

    "I will try anything once."  Shua slurped his soup, exhaling a satisfied sigh after the first taste.  Burr ate his with far less gusto.  It wasn''t just the soup that was leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

    "I''m going to gather more firewood." Burr grabbed the hatchet and tied it to his hemp belt.

    "It gets dark early this time of year.  Do not stray far," Shua cautioned.

    Burr said nothing more as he walked into the closest cluster of naked trees.

    <hr>

    Dying light created a blue haze through the bare branches of the deciduous forest.  The few conifer trees that prowled the woods congregated in clusters as wary minorities.  Firewood stacked in the shield-like carrier, Burr also brought back some pine boughs to brew tea with.  Flickers of blue lights occasionally teased the corner of his eye.  Every time he turned his head, nothing was there.  Burr''s hair stood on end, but he stayed his course.

    The smoke and warm glow from the campfire guided the last leg of Burr''s journey.  A prickling sensation and an itch in his nose preceeded an unexpected sound: child-like giggling.  Blue lights danced in his peripheral vision, only to dart away the moment he looked.  He spun around and called out, "Who''s there?"

    No answer came.

    A chill swept over him as Burr returned to his course.  The late autumn frost was coming in aggressively, considering the sun had only just set.  Something was wrong.  The smoke and glow were gone.  Had Shua extinguished the fire and retired early?  Burr went from ambling to trotting.  Upon proceeding past a tight guard of trees he halted.  No tent.  No campfire.  Only a square patch of mud and a circle of charred stones. Burr stared at the empty clearing in dismay.

    The giggling started again.  Burr spun around on his heel.  "Whoever is there, show yourself!" Burr commanded.  In the distance he saw a blue flame float in the air.  An odd, warm sensation tingled all over him. Every bone in his body vibrated at a discordant frequency from the rest of his tissue.

    "Burr!"

    Suddenly, the trees in front of him reflected a warm light, outlining the silhouette cast by his shadow.

    "Burr?"  It was Shua''s voice.  Burr spun around. The camp was there, just as he had left it.  Burr looked down at the firewood he still carried.  In his other hand was the hatchet, though he did not remember drawing it.

    "I... uh... thought I saw something..." Burr stammered uneasily.  He dared not tell Shua the truth.

    "Not a hungry wolf, I hope," Shua said, peering into the leafless trees.  They both studied the surrounding wood in silence.  Other than an occasional cold breeze, nothing stirred.  Shua shook his head and took some of the wood, tossing a log onto the fire without waiting for it to dry.  It smoked, hissed, and popped, but Shua did not seem to care.

    Burr set about stacking the rest of the wood as neatly as he could to their depleting pile. "You know these woods well?"

    "That I do," Shua responded as stirred the coals with a stick.

    "Have you ever seen a blue light in the woods?" Burr asked, but did not dare to look at Shua, afraid of seeing the amused curl of his lips.

    "Near the marshier areas, I have.  Strange creatures inhabit the area.  They revel in misleading travellers.  Never follow them, should you see one."  Shua yawned and stood up. "But I''ve never seen them hereabouts.  Did you?"

    "Perhaps.  And perhaps, I am just seeing illusions of waking sleep," Burr murmured.

    Shua crossed his thick arms.  "Well you better get a good night''s rest tonight.  We leave for the winter crell in the morning.  It will be nice to sleep in something sturdier than a lean-to, and share stories.  Maybe Croa will be generous with his spiced mead."

    Shua''s words buzzed around Burr''s head like a gnat, and he gave a few small, tight head shakes as if to try and dislodge them.  Something about his presence, while reassuring, didn''t feel quite right.  Burr grumbled something that he wasn''t even sure were words and crawled into the tent they shared.  He knew Shua would stay up a while longer, but Burr was very tired.

    <hr>

    Burr''s head hurt.  Why did it hurt so bad?  Did I fall asleep on a rock again?  Are my antlers caught on something?  Oh right, that annoying noise.  Why is Shua splitting firewood at this hour?  Burr rolled over, feeling the irritation build, boiling under his skin.  Shua told him to get rest, and then proceeded to make a racket.  Burr wasn''t even aware he stood up.  He didn''t bother to pull on his tunic, striding out in his small clothes.  Though dim, the campfire''s light seemed too bright and burned Burr''s eyes.  Shua''s back was to him.  Just go back to sleep.  Burr''s hand was on Shua''s shoulder, spinning the larger Cervidien around.  Burr''s hand gripped a hatchet.  Wait... Shua had the axe. Why am I...?

    "BURR!  BURR!"

    Burr didn''t remember throwing Shua down. Shua was almost twice his size, yet Burr stood over his mentor with the axe raised. The younger man''s shadow danced in the firelight over the stunned Shua.  The axe fell to the ground and Burr covered his face with his hands.

    "Burr, what''s gotten into you?" Shua asked, on his feet in the blink of an eye.

    "I don''t... I don''t..."

    Giggling.

    Who was laughing?  Who would laugh at a time like this?  Burr cast an ominous glance about, searching for the source with the intention of making it stop.

    "Burr, what are you looking at?" Shua asked in a hushed voice.  He picked up the axe but never took his eyes off of the lad he''d been fostering.

    "Don''t you hear them?  The children?"

    Shua was silent.  He looked around only briefly, but his gaze quickly shifted back to Burr. Shua shook his head.

    "There''s someone there.  I swear it!" Burr insisted.  In the distance he saw the straggling branches silhouetted against a blue light.  He pointed to it and Shua looked.

    "There''s nothing there, Burr." Shua looked back to the addled young man.  Burr''s eyes watered and he quickly spun around, turning his back to Shua. Only then was he aware of the cold night air.  Burr shivered, nearly jumping when he felt Shua''s hand on his shoulder. "You best get back inside and get warm."

    "No... I... I can''t lie back down," Burr''s mind raced over the strange experiences.  How could I have threatened Shua like that?  Why is Shua so calm?  If their roles were reversed, Burr was certain he would flee.  Or maybe that was Shua''s plan once Burr had gone back into the tent.  "Please... I''m sorry.  It won''t happen again.  Don''t..." Burr turned around. Shua wasn''t there.  There was no sign of him at all.  "...go."

    A new shiver rattled Shua''s nerves as a cold sweat broke out, this time of terror rather than chill.  On the ground where Shua was he saw something, but his eyes were not quite adjusting to the gloomy twilight.  He walked over and crouched down, brushing away damp fallen leaves to reveal a small jade bear.  A sharp pain attacked him, right above his right eye.  He put his hand there as if expecting there to be a wound, but there was nothing.  His headache worsened.

    When Burr looked up again he saw several of the blue flames zipping about, no longer laying hide and seek.  They swam and swirled in the air before him, illuminating a path.  Shua had warned him not to follow them.  Burr ran in the opposite direction, for he did not wish to go towards the light.

    "Shua!  Shua!  Where have you gone?" Burr called out. Something was wrong and he needed to get away.  He needed to find safety.  Shua was the only one who ever offered that to him.

    A low growl could be heard up ahead.  Burr ignored it, jumping over a fallen tree, his cloven hooves leaving tracks in his wake.  The growl grew louder and a large, shaggy void blocked out the remaining light on the western horizon.  Burr stopped and looked up with wide eyes.  The familiar chuffing sound of a bear sent Burr galloping in the opposite direction.  Behind him was a series of crashes, chasing him.  He should have known better than to run.  But Burr''s higher faculties fled, and everything was hostile and frightening to him.

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    Burr was breathing heavily, weaving gracefully around trees and over low foliage that would seek to grab his slender ankles.  He wasn''t sure where he ran or how far, but at some point he couldn''t hear anything behind him.  He slowed and dared to look around, ready to launch into another flight if the danger still presented.  Everything was still.  The cold night air attacked the sweat on his bare arms, and he began rubbing them vigorously.

    "Give it back!  Give it back now!"  A child''s voice called out.

    "Who is there?" Burr asked.

    "Help!  Help!"

    Burr frowned and marched in the direction of the pleas for help as if in a trance. As he approached, again he saw the blue wisps of fire, but no longer paid them any heed.  Burr came to a clearing where a boy sat on a bench carved from a log.  The boy looked up as Burr approached.

    "My little brother is lost."

    Burr blinked a few times, feeling a pang of headache, but also a sense of recognition.  He was sure he knew the boy, but he could not quite remember.  Burr looked away.  Although the boy emitted no light, every time he looked too closely at him, his eyes seared as if he were staring into the sun.  "Where did you see him last?" Burr asked, turning his head and only keeping track of the boy in his peripheral view.

    "We were fighting over a toy.  A jade bear.  Have you seen it?" the boy asked.

    "Uh..." Didn''t I see one at the campsite.  Camp site?  There was no camp site.  "It was..." Burr tried to get his bearings.  "I''m sorry.  I don''t remember where I saw it."

    "I need to find him.  But we have to avoid waking the bear."

    "I am afraid he has already awoken."

    The boy stood up, looking alert.  He glanced around, cocking his head to the side, as if listening.  "Then he''s in trouble! I need to find him.  I need to make things right.  Will you help me?"

    Burr wasn''t sure what he could do.  He was cold, alone, and disoriented.  He didn''t want to be around this boy.  He couldn''t explain it, but the boy made him increasingly uncomfortable.  As Burr was trying to make up his mind, he felt a cold hand slip into his.  He glanced down at the boy, winced, then looked away again.  Still, he managed to nod.

    "I can try."  How the boy responded, he was unsure.  All he felt was a squeeze of the icy hand and then the boy let go.  He heard twigs snap and leaves rustle as the boy presumably walked away.  Burr resumed watching him with quick glances.

    "Where are your parents?" Burr asked.

    "Asleep."

    "Why are you two awake?"

    "My parents are always asleep.  They can''t help it," the boy picked up a torch with a blue light.  Where did he get it?  How did he get it?  Why was it blue?  Burr couldn''t make sense of any of this, but his worn out legs continued to place one in front of the other.

    "Surely they need to get up and start preparing to go to their winter crell," Burr muttered.

    "What''s a crell?" The boy asked.  This took Burr by surprise.  The boy was Cervidien like himself.  How could he not know?

    "It''s where we all go to wait out the winter, before we go our separate ways in the spring. Don''t your parents go to a crell?" Burr asked.

    "No.  Maybe.  But they''re asleep.  They don''t go anywhere."

    "Then how have you and your brother been taking care of yourselves?" Burr was growing wary of this boy.

    "We take care of each other.  The wisps show us where we need to go," the boy answered.

    "The wisps are dangerous," Burr repeated.

    "We''re still here."

    "Are you?"

    The boy stopped.  He stood and looked over his shoulder at Burr.  Burr finally was able to focus on the boy.  His brown wavy hair, his blue eyes, his ruddy skin, his straight nose.  The blood drained out of Burr''s face.  Realisation struck.  The reason he knew this boy was...

    "....What is your name?" It was a short question, and yet each word seemed drawn out of Burr like sludge.

    "Wos," the boy answered.  Burr licked his lips, anticipation tickling.

    "And your brother?"

    "Burr."

    There was a sound like shattering glass and Burr screamed in agony.  The splitting headache was too much and he fell to his knees, cradling his head. Everything went black.

    <hr>

    The damp, cool sensation on Burr''s forehead was refreshing.  It was also the first sensation he was aware of as the waves of consciousness broke over him.  His head was cool, his body was comfortably warm.  Wherever he was, it was suitably dark.  His eyes fluttered open and he could smell smoke and cedar.

    "There now... he''s waking up," said an unfamiliar voice.  Burr rolled his eyes around, feeling too sore to crane his neck.  As the dimly lit room came into focus, he was aware that he was in a log structure of some sort.  He could barely make out the ceiling joists above him.

    "Where... am I?" Burr croaked.

    "The healing hut," returned the voice.

    Burr felt the pain in his head return.  His shaking hand went to his forehead, closing around the damp cloth. "How did I get here?"

    "We fear the spirits have reclaimed you.  But you began speaking to a new one.  Shua?"

    Burr exhaled.  Shua.  He closed his eyes again.  "No.  Shua isn''t a spirit.  He''s real.  He took care of me after... after..."

    "...After your brother died?" the voice asked.  Burr opened his eyes, looking around.  It took him a while to focus on the wrinkled woman who stood at his side.

    "...My brother... I don''t have... my parents abandoned me.  I..." even as Burr was speaking these words, something didn''t feel right.  His stomach churned and his heart raced.  These words weren''t true.  But he wanted them to be.

    "No, Burr.  You had a brother, Wos.  And he died.  His ghost comes back and takes over.  We''ve tried everything to keep him away.  The travelling shaman said that opening your skull to let the spirits out would work.  And you were happy for a time, although your hands didn''t work the same.  But this past fall, you began mumbling about Shua and kept trying to run into the woods."

    Burr''s eyes brimmed with tears.  It was hard to take.  "No!  NO NO NO!  You are the evil spirits.  You are the liar.  Shua!  Shua!  Wake me up!  Save me!" Burr flailed and shouted, ignoring the pain and the warnings.  He tried to sit up, but firm yet craggy hands pressed down on his shoulder, pinning him to the cot he rested in.

    "Burr!  Burr you need to remember!  I know it is hard, but do not let them win!  Remember your father.  Remember your brother," the woman said.

    "No!  No I can''t.  I will not!" Burr fussed.  But her words were like a spell over him.  He could see himself and his brother vividly now, as children.

    Yes.  He could see them, sitting on the log his mother had carved for them.  The curved indentations were just right for sitting in comfortably.  The scroll work, however, was done by their more artistic father.  Their father.  Yes.  Burr could remember.  He was asleep in the cave they were living in for the bright seasons.  Burr played with a green stone bear, and Wos took it from him.  He demanded it back.  His brother took particular delight in holding it just out of reach.  Burr tried everything to retrieve the precious figurine back.

    The two boys fought, and the jade bear fell to the ground, smashing into a rock. Burr stared at the chipped bear as sadness and anger ruptured from within.

    "YOU RUINED IT!  YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!" Burr shouted, kneeling by the broken bear.

    "It was an accident!" Wos declared remorselessly.

    "NO!  You''re jealous Father gave it to me!  You''re mean and hateful!" Burr accused.

    No retort came.  Wos sprang upon him, the palm of his hand landing squarely in Burr''s jaw.  Burr reciprocated by clawing inefeectually at his brother''s face.  Wos pinned him down, being the older, was quick to overpower him.  Burr knew he could not win.  Be screamed.  He bleated.  He bugled for help!  His shill, prepubescent voice rang out.  What came next, he didn''t want to remember.  But the memory was there, and would not be muted.

    Like a poked bear, their large father, adorned with a heavy crown of antlers, came lumbering out of the cave. Burr vividly recalled his large black eyes and how they reflected the midafternoon light.  Burr was ready to tell his father what Wos had done, but his father did not stop to interrogate them.  With one strike he knocked Wos off of Burr and threw him to the leaf-littered ground.  Elation!  Burr knew his father would save him.  But that joy and smugness quickly faded when he realised something wasn''t right with his father.

    Everything slowed down, and all Burr could see was his father''s face.  A vein in his temple protruded and pulsed, and he could hear the click of a clenching jaw and grinding teeth.  His father''s eyes were wild, glassy, and pupils frightfully large as he pinned his older brother down.  Within an arm''s reach was an axe, wedged in an old stump.  No.  It was just to scare Wos.  It was just to scare him.  Burr squirmed.

    "I''ve had ENOUGH of you two!  How about I just split your head open?  Then I can finally get some peace and quiet!"  A sour taste filled Burr''s mouth and his jaw tingled.  His father raised the axe and... and...

    Burr blacked out.  He could never remember what happened after.  Bur sobbed, and felt the pressure on his shoulders lesson.  "There, now, Burr.  Do you remember?"

    "I don''t... I don''t..."  All Burr could remember was afterwards being wrapped in a blanket and held tight by his mother.  She rocked him and soothed him.  The death rites were held in a few days, but it was all a blur.  His father disappeared after that, and his mother wasn''t the same.  Neither was he.

    The two of them struggled to keep things together.  But when his mother drowned in a fishing accident, he was taken in by the community.  No kindly hermit named Shua took him in.  He was shuffled from couple to couple for the bright seasons.  Some were kind.  Some were not.  But then he started seeing his brother.  And then no one wanted him.  Shamans, wise men, healers, they all tried to ward the spirit that haunted him.

    "...So... Shua... isn''t real."  Burr finally said.

    "No, my dear, no.  I''m sorry.  We wanted to believe this would help.  But I''m afraid we''ve only given the spirits a way in.  Please forgive us, Burr.  Forgive us."

    Burr slowly sat up, narrowly avoiding a bout of dizziness.  The woman took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.  Although he had just awoken, he was exhausted from the recollection.  "...Maybe it''s time I stop trying to push out my brother.  Maybe I should have just let him stay with me."

    "The dead need to move on," the wise woman insisted.  Burr shook his head, feeling a wave of nausea from even that slight gesture.

    "But then... what happens to me?"

    The silence that existed in the room became burdensome.  Although her eyes were narrow crevices between folds of her aged skin, Burr could still see them roll off to the side, trying not to look at him directly.  Her jaw hung open, her few remaining teeth jutting out from her hardened gums, her tongue sliding around them as she tried to think. "Maybe you need to move on too.  We have done our best for you.  But if you will not allow yourself to become well, if you keep inviting these evil spirits in, then we will also have to move on from you.  The decision is yours.  The birds fled early, and there has been much fog.  The coming winter will be long and hard on all of us.  We need every able mind and body."

    Burr laid his head back down on his pillow.  He knew what she was saying.  If he did not push away the lost spirits which clung to him, if he did not fight his demons, they could no longer support him.  He could not have stopped his father even if he tried, but the guilt ate at him.  But now, his shame in burdening the loose community which wintered together surpassed even his guilt.  He needed to make peace.  He needed to set his brother free.

    But... Shua.  Shua took care of him unconditionally.  Burr turned his head.  If only Shua were here.  He would never leave him in the cold.

    "Burr... Burr wake up."

    Burr opened his eyes and gazed into Shua''s face.  Feeling immediate warmth and security, Burr smiled.