Adras

Tarmae had been a good brother once. I remember when I was younger, perhaps when dad was still alive, he had hugged me a few times and ruffled my dark hair. He'd teased me about the way I looked different and acted different, but he meant well. And he was the one who taught me how to read.

I can't remember the exact moment Tarmae and I grew apart. I think it was when mum locked me in my room for the first time... when I was nine, I think. Tarmae had given me a piece of his cherry scone that he bought from the market. He was proud of those scones.

After that day, we began to grow apart. Tarmae was much older than I, and he was more interested in hunting and finding someone to marry. I knew Tarmae didn't like women, but I also knew he wanted to impress mum. And I think some part of him wanted to impress dad, too.

I missed Tarmae in the dead of night, when I was alone and feeling cold despite my blankets. When I felt lonelier than usual, when I was huddled in my bearskin blankets and the world was quiet save for my breathing. I missed my older brother, who I could hug and talk to about my countless naive and childish problems.

Sometimes, when the crows called in the night, I thought of Tarmae. He used to dislike crows, and he claimed he would always hate them with a passion by the age of twenty, when they stole one of his cherry scones. But I knew better than to think he hated them. I'd seen him feeding one before.

Regardless of whether I missed Tarmae or not, I could not let him into my heart. I was afraid of my heart, too. I didn't like the feelings that hid there. They were scary, unknown, strange. Tarmae would know what to do. But we were barely brothers anymore. We were once.

|~~~|

I learnt very quickly the next day, once my family had returned and unlocked my door, that Winter was a strange faerie. He was demanding and proud, but at the same time he was insecure and quiet. We did not talk often, and Winter busied himself with staring out the window and figuring out how to unlock it himself, which only took a brief hour of him scratching the glass.

He was not a talkative wolf. Winter was prepared to sit for hours on end staring out of the window, and if he wasn't doing that, he would be sleeping on my bed, curled up on the pillow he had formed into the perfect nest.

I also learnt quickly that Winter did not sleep.

His eyes were always open, and if they rarely weren't, then they would open the moment I moved. I busied myself with my drawing utensils, sketching things that came to my head. Most of them were flowers, or trees, or the odd squirrel. But as I grew more interested in my faerie's doings, these drawings evolved into a very specific wolf.

Winter had sharp features that, I realised, were fun but challenging to draw. He had a sleek noble muzzle and angled amber eyes with dark rims. His nose was black and damp, and his lips were black and often pulled back to reveal sharp pearly teeth and pinkish gums. His fur was a mixture of silver-grey and black, with faint tips of brown on his legs.

It was safe to say I hid the drawings from him. But I had a feeling that Winter knew regardless of my efforts.

The bandages were still wrapped around his head and his flank, but I was happy with how they were healing. In barely a day Winter's flank was nearly completely healed, and his head wound was making good progress. I knew this was because of his faerie healing properties, but I still found it amazing.

What are you drawing, Adras?

Winter had left his place on my bed and was sitting on the edge, peering down at me with curious dark eyes. He was a regal beast, and I was so often struck by his beauty that I would not answer his questions. But he took me off guard by asking about my drawings. I had thought he was asleep.

"I'm drawing... flowers," I lied. I had been, so it wasn't blatant. I closed the sketchbook and tilted my head up at Winter.

He clearly did not believe me, and gave an impatient huff. He hopped down from my bed, fluid and graceful. His legs had healed completely, and he looked ready to run and stretch his legs. I felt sad for him. He was unable to have the freedom a wolf needed, unable to sprint through the trees and unable to hunt. He was stuck here nearly as much as I was.

Adras... that's me...

Winter had flipped open the sketchbook with his nose and was staring at the sketches I'd drawn. I had a moment of panic, thinking he would be enraged I hadn't captured his features well, but... he looked peaceful. Impressed, and perhaps even touched.

Winter sniffed at the pages, inhaling my scent. He'd been doing this for most of yesterday, smelling me and getting used to my scent. It had been odd at first, but I'd gotten used to it fast.

These are very good, Winter communicated, eyes flickering wide. Do you draw often?

"Yes," I say, a little awkward. I hadn't expected Winter to even see these drawings, let alone compliment me for them. It had never happened before, being complemented for my work. It felt strange, but... nice.

Winter nodded, satisfied. You should. You're talented.

He walked toward my window again, pushing it open with his nose now that it was unlatched. I'd learnt to keep it unlatched so he didn't break it.

Winter stared down at the ground, his eyes narrow but with an underlying sadness. I felt an ache in my heart as I noticed him watching the forest where he'd come from, nose twitching to detect any possible scents that reminded him of home. He was yearning.

Why do you stay here, Adras?

The same words he'd said last night that had kept me awake for a good four hours, longer than I'd care to admit. Why did I stay here? As far as I knew, I didn't know the answer to that question. But I knew some of the things that made me stay. My family. My lack of ability to live alone. My fear.

Winter stared at me curiously, his eyes sharp but not unkind. You do not need to stay here. You can leave.

I did not want to leave, I assured myself, but I knew I was lying to myself. I had gazed out that window more times than I could count, wondering why I had to stay. To this day, I had no idea why mum insisted on keeping me inside and let my siblings roam free. I had not asked.

I could leave, and most of me leaned toward that and sang at the opportunity. It preened and curled around this opportunity that I wanted more than anything else, to see the world and pick flowers and travel to the mountains far away. To experience the world beyond my fenced in garden, to have a larger corner of life that I experienced.

I was tempted. I stared at Winter, unsure. He was staring back at me, and while it made me uncomfortable, I did not look away. His eyes were kind and caring to some degree, but wild and fierce. They made me feel loved, and this was a feeling I was not ready to let go.

Bonded faeries and humans could not split up. Winter had known this when he chose me, and although I didn't know why he'd chosen me, I respected his decision. Only the faerie had the power to break the bond, and this was almost never done.

Winter walked over to me, his eyes soft and kind. He bumped his nose against my palm, rubbing his muzzle along my hand. Then he stepped back, fur bristling in wariness of being so close. But in his eyes I saw no regret. He was comforting me and my pain that I wasn't aware of.

I am leaving, Winter says. His voice is cool and yet warm in my mind, crisp and fresh but comforting. And you should come with me.

My mind reels at that idea, but I am already leaning toward an answer. But I shouldn't be. My family needs me, I remind myself. But then I pause. What do they need me for?

I want to leave. I do. But Winter is a wild creature, and I am not. I would not survive alone. I cannot live alone. I shake my head briefly, but my movements are stiff. I want to go with him.

Winter sees this immediately, but he gives a grudging huff of agreement. He says nothing, only pads to the door and waits.

I am struck by what this means. He's leaving now. He meant now.

"You're leaving now?" I blurt out quickly, my heart beating faster than it ever has. My faerie is leaving. He is leaving without me. I think what scares me more is the looming possibility that I will go with.

Winter flicks one ear mildly, but his eyes betray his sadness and longing that he has been hiding so well. I must. I cannot stay here longer than I need to. He looks at me kindly, his eyes softer than they have ever been. More welcoming. More inviting. Come with me, Adras.

I can't speak for a moment. My breath hitches and it feels strange, odd, sore. It hurts. But it hurts because I have not allowed myself freedom, have not allowed myself to realise that this is not the place for me. I love my family to the end of my life, and I always will, despite the things they have done to me and for me, when they think it is good for me but it is not. Through no fault of their own they have been misled.

Perhaps one day I will learn the reason why I was kept aside. Learn the reason why dad left. Learn the reason why Tarmae stopped talking to me, why I've grown apart from my family through their own doing. I don't know if what they did was wrong. Maybe one day I will.

I watch Winter walk down the steps in the dead of night. It is cold tonight, colder than I expected, and my bearskin blanket does not keep all of the biting temperature out. Some part of me is cold, but not from the chill in the air.

Winter looks back at me when he reaches the back door. Adras...?

His voice is gentle, kind, soft. Once again, I am struck by how quickly I have grown used to this wolf's presence in the better part of two days. And if he leaves I know I will be lonely and upset again, much more than I will ever admit to myself or to my family.

I give a quick nod and race away to my bedroom. The house is quiet, nobody has awoken, and while sometimes I would worry that someone would wake up at the noise I am making, I am too elated and anxious to truly care. I will not stay here. When my family wakes, I will be gone.