The bird shrieked and cawed as its friend came down to join us, swiping with its talons to create space for it to feed too. Whether its friend would be so gentle, I didn’t know. It seemed the more hesitant of the two. Once their dominance display had ceased I stepped forward again and shared my humble breakfast with them, and when everything had been eaten I wished them well and sat back down. What I hadn’t expected was the brush of baby-soft feathers against my neck as the first bird nestled up against my side. The other remained at a distance but curled up into itself and closed its eyes.
I didn’t dare breathe lest I startled them. There was something about their presence that was comforting and after a while of sitting there, stiff as a board, I clung to it like the air that filled my lungs. I started humming when the silence scraped at me and ran a gentle hand along the bird’s neck. It purred beneath my fingers, its throat vibrating in a sense of serenity.
Then footsteps sounded behind me. The bird screeched and took off so suddenly that I didn’t have time to stop myself rolling backwards.
“We leave you alone for an hour and you’re already making friends with the whole forest,” Daniel said dryly as he entered the garden.
“I would hardly call two birds ‘the whole forest’.” I stood and brushed myself off. The birds above me erupted into a fit of noise as Daniel approached, flapping their wings and snapping as the branch groaned angrily beneath their talons. “Can’t say the same about you, it seems.”
“Yes, I was never an animal lover. It seems that most Demons have that problem though.” He stood beside me and looked up at them.
“Perhaps Gnathians aren’t as threatening to them,” I said.
“Perhaps.” Daniel eyed the birds warily as they took to the air. “They must like your singing. What song was that?”
“I don’t know. Mother used to hum it to me as a child. I don’t even know the words to it,” I lied. “It’s just a lullaby.”
Of course, that wasn’t true. I knew the words; I knew them very well. Mother used to love the way the language tumbled off my tongue but my father scolded me for it. When she was ill, and he was out tending the fields, Mother begged me to sing it and I would oblige her. Then after Mother passed it became a distant memory. Just another part of me I’d shut away.
“When Mother died I would hum it in the kitchen,” I started, “and Father would finally be able to get up from his chair.”
“It sounds familiar,” Daniel said, ignoring my comment.
“A lot of songs are familiar,” I snapped.
“My own mother used to sing one quite like it at the story-den in my home village.” His brow furrowed. “We used to watch her sometimes - my brother and I - when Father was at war.”
“You had a brother?”
“I have a brother,” he corrected me. “Though, it’s been many years since we saw each other last.”
“What of your father and mother?” I asked.
“Dead.” The word rotted on his tongue.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be,” he started. “We had a cow that used to bring us in a bit of extra money when times were hard in the winter. We’d make cheese and sell her milk to our neighbours in exchange for a few coins.” I didn’t interrupt as he continued, “One morning, a few months after Father had returned from battle, wolves broke down the fence of her paddock and killed her. We ran home in tears, hoping our father would take vengeance on the wolves but instead he blamed us for not fighting them off.”
“How old were you?”
“I was eleven; my brother was fourteen.”
“And he expected you to be able to take on a pack of wolves?” I said, disgusted.
He nodded and continued, “His anger sparked into fury and he beat us bloody. Mother heard the commotion and came running, blocking us from his strikes but he was blinded by rage.” Daniel drew a sorrowful breath. “He murdered her that morning - beat her head straight into the ground – and when he was done he left to gather the remains of the cow to sell at market. Mother’s body stayed where it was until we’d gotten the strength to dig a hole in the garden, wrap her broken body in mourning cloth and lower her into the ground. We didn’t even have a single silver to spare for the soul collector, let alone three.”
“What became of your father?” I asked.
“He returned in the early morning, having spent every penny he’d earned from the meat on drink. His sorrowful howls and angry shouts could have woken the dead for all we knew but it didn’t matter to us, because we were waiting for him.” He looked at me carefully from the corner of his eye.
“We broke his legs so he couldn’t run away. Then, we dragged him away from the house, away from our mother’s resting place, and when we’d reached the paddock we cut him just enough to bleed. His shouts landed on deaf ears as we climbed a nearby tree and watched the wolves come. The next morning we packed what little we had and left, searching for a new life.”
I felt queasy at the thought of it. For children to feel the need for such vengeance was unthinkable. “Did you find the life you were looking for?”
“No, but it’s been good enough,” Daniel said. “What?” he asked as he noticed me staring.
“Sorry, you just – you’re being very honest about something so painful. Compared to the others’ secrecy about their pasts, it’s just surprising.” I couldn’t quite understand it.
He shrugged. “It’s another life to me. I don’t see why I should hide it when it happened such a long time ago.”
“What happened to you after that? The world’s a hard enough place to survive in as it is, let alone when you’re children-”
“Perhaps it’s a story for another time, Ava,” he said, turning his attention to the forest to the side of us. I didn’t like the way my name slid from his mouth. Something jarred about it; brought bumps up on my skin. But I had little time to dwell as three familiar creatures came crashing through the undergrowth.
Theron raised his eyes to me but offered no morning greeting as he strolled past us and into the house. Charming, as per usual. Ric, on the other hand, rested his palm against my forehead and pulled my eyelids open.
“Any improvements today?” he asked me sincerely.
“I feel excellent, thank you,” I said, batting his hand away. “Better than I’ve felt in weeks.” I avoided looking at the figure standing behind him.
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” He rested his head against mine fondly. Somehow we had become close friends; like siblings, Lavender told us. We certainly fought as often as Roan and I ever had. A pang of sadness rang through me but I brushed the thought aside as Ethan approached me. My heart lurched into my throat. I didn’t know whether to run or punch him.
“Hi,” he said.
I felt my eyes narrow. “Hi? Really? That’s what you’re starting with?” An awkward tension rose between us, neither of us knowing quite what to say, so I went with my gut. “I get to punch you once,” I started, repeating what I’d said near this spot once before. “After that we’ll just move past this stupid, awkward affair, okay?”
Ric grimaced, his hand moving absentmindedly to his arm. Ethan nodded and turned his arm toward me, bracing his muscle for the sharp impact. I punched him hard in the arm once. “That’s for leaving,” I said. As he relaxed his muscle I punched him again in the same spot, sending his nerves buzzing. He cried out. “And that’s for everything you said about Roan.”