Corvin remembered running. There was a chaos spattered before that: a storm of fights and cries he wished he could wring from his ever-sensitive ears, and a mage girl's murderous gaze, her presence gilded in gold, clanging and bright and metallic. The running was most fresh, however, a cleaner memory, less shrouded in fog. Alongside it, he recalled a throbbing in his head, a snapping blow to his knees that brought a further explosion of pain, and then sudden, shuttering darkness.

Running, pain, darkness. They flashed through the back of mind in flitting, repeated fragments as his senses reported them in reverse. Faded black sheened the inside of his eyelids. Night's monotonous greys swept in when he peeled them back, though the stars were flares, needles of light that drilled into his forehead and awoke a pulsing ache beneath. Pain skittered to other places in softer, sharper whispers, flowing into the familiar shape of triplet rivers running down his back. Fingers picked at the raw skin pinched around his scars. Long nails skimmed their ridges, colder, delicately precise.

His heart sprinted. If not for the weight of his own body and the tight arms that ensnared it, he'd have fled.

He squirmed instead, shoulder scraping the abrasive surface below him as he twisted, hands seeking out the wrists of those clinging arms so he could force them away. It was torture. Every movement was, since it only tightened the grip holding him still and sent skin sliding against skin in grating, shivering trails.

With a hollow gasp, he finally tore free and scrambled back in a mess of flailing limbs. His antlers tipped forward on instinct to fill the empty space. His breaths continued to hitch, ragged and hesitant; discomfort was a mesh laid beneath his skin stretched just a little too taut, barbed ends scraping in all the worst places.

He blinked, clearing the last of the clouds from his waking vision. He'd know that touch anywhere. He knew what face he'd see, but still his gaze bounced, seeking out every last surrounding detail it could take note of in a desperate spiral.

It wasn't stars he'd been dazzled by. Instead of the sky's dome, a ceiling of sorts stretched overhead, sewn together by a drooping net of russet-shaded roots. Miniature buds hung from them, puffed out and sagging on long stems, glowing a cool, aqueous green. The lights paled the craggy sandstone that curved in every other direction. Pockets of red clay peeked through, tough but soft enough to give slightly where Corvin's fingers dug into it. Faint rays filtered through an opening somewhere beyond, too weak and far to have any influence over the flowers' light but a sign regardless that the sun still shone above.

The scent of the place—dry, woody, plucked at by the telltale sour notes of the glowing flowers—spoke of deep familiarity, the kind with roots buried in his core and coiled around all his strongest memories. The stale quiet pulled his ears downward, an instinctual sag of relief. He'd never lived in one dependable place, but whether it fit Raya's definition of the word or not, this was home. The cool air and soft lights whispered calming thoughts. They told him he could hide here, that he was safe.

Slanted eyes tracked him, paired with a grin. They claimed the same, and part of him longed to believe it, but he twisted that part into a tight, anxious knot. It was a lie.

He could feel his heart's hammer in his throat, stealing every breath.The cavern's sides began to swirl and blur. How could he get out?

Kyril's grin fell as pity softened his sharp eyes. He sat up, then leaned over on all fours, claws clacking against the washed-out stone. Corvin cringed back, but he couldn't maintain the distance between them. The ground seemed to flee at the slightest movement, spilling dark spots into his vision.

He couldn't get enough air, particularly not when Kyril touched his cheek, fingers tracing his jawline. His voice rippled, a tapping whisper that tickled Corvin's nose. "What's wrong, doe?"

Corvin fought for a glare. It burned somewhere in his chest, but his face wouldn't respond to the order, stiff as frost and glazed by mind-numbing fear. The tingle of Kyril's touch, the prowl of his fingertips up his cheek to the curve over his ear where they tucked a wispy lock of hair, enveloped every sense. Words escaped him.

Kyril's head tipped, brows furrowing. Concern twisted his lips, sealing his stubby fangs from view and wrinkling his hooked nose. Amongst his ruffled nest of auburn hair, his furry ears tipped at odd angles, tufted at their ends and dotted with sparks in the mixed light. The second pair of ears tucked beneath—far more humanoid save their short, jagged point—were stiff and pricked. They were alert, always, even when his expression scrawled lazier lines, twitching at every threat. They gave him away. Whatever his eyes said—worry, care, that deceitful safety—cunning lurked behind it.

Corvin reminded himself of that over and over, skin repeating the mantra in painful, echoic whispers, as Kyril cupped his jaw. A clawed thumb skimmed the newer scar that crossed his face.

"I dread to think how awful it's been," he purred. His head tilted, bringing their foreheads into contact. Their noses brushed, lips a breath apart, and still Corvin couldn't move. "You can relax, doe, I promise. You're with me now."

The freckles scattered across his cheeks stood out like fiery stars against the duller shade of his skin. His thumb pressed just a little too firmly, his face a fragment too close, and Corvin finally flinched. A dark cloud flitted across Kyril's features, faint but there. It was enough. It lent Corvin confidence.

Jerking his head, he yanked himself free, tucking in his chin to drive his antlers with him. The grate of bone against skin and fur shuddered through him and made him grit his teeth. He didn't like it, and he hated the matted red line that seeped from the path one sharp fork marked, slashing the edge of Kyril's ear before diving in amongst his hair. The cut was small and hasty, but Kyril clapped a hand to it as if it were a mortal wound, shock scrubbing his face clean of all else.

Corvin's stomach squeezed. His eyes stung, pricked at suddenly and harshly by tears he had to force away. Dragging a glare to them was like weaving trails of hot sand. "Don't." His voice scraped its way out, weak.

Kyril's upper ears drooped, one curled around the fine injury. "Don't what?"

"Don't pretend. Do you think I'm stupid?" Corvin flashed his teeth—unimpressive as they were, they pressed together with determination. He could not be fooled. "You left me for dead."

"Corvi," Kyril pleaded. His hand reached for Corvin's, fingers tangling before Corvin shoved away, scrabbling until he was backed into the furthest corner, stone coarse and cold against his back while the shadows swathed his periphery.

With a defeated sigh, Kyril fell back onto his heels. His lip stuck out in a pout. Hands holding one another in his lap instead and shoulders hunched in, he looked forlorn, the picture of guilty innocence. Corvin's heart ached. The tears fought harder, but he pressed sharper thoughts to the forefront of his mind—knives of pain and tinier, grittier things, pieces that didn't fit right that had outlined the picture he now knew in full. He kept glaring.

"It wasn't like that, Corvi." Kyril's voice shrunk, tight as a coiled spring. His knuckles itched a spot between his right ears while he studied his knees.

"You hurt me." Corvin nearly choked on the words. His vision blurred.

Another sigh deflated Kyril's chest. His head lifted. "You don't understand what I had to do." His eyes shone, glitteringly pure, an unassuming brown turned hazel and imbued with emerald jewels. "You know I would never hurt you without reason."

Corvin swiped at his eyes, teeth peeling back into a lacklustre snarl. "What reason is worth more than I am?"

The rumble of the words petered out, replaced by a trembling whine. He winced, but he wasn't the only one; Kyril twitched, expression rigid like he'd been struck. He unfurled. His hand reached out, claws pearly and glinting. "Corvi—"

Corvin slapped it away and shot to his feet. His antlers bumped the ceiling, springing a fresh film of tears to his eyes, but he didn't care. His gaze wrenched from Kyril, hooked on the sun-speckled exit beyond. He didn't want to listen to the reason. It didn't matter. He wanted to cling to his anger, bury his head in it, lash it like a leash around his ankles that would drag him from here before something foolish convinced him to stay.

He circumvented Kyril's attempt to stop him and sped up, only to be jerked to an immediate halt by the hand that snatched his shoulder. Against his will, he spun around. Kyril's grip slid to his wrists, sharp thumbs kneading the nerves there, twisting in just the right way to make Corvin still. The pain that lanced through his veins was a ghost's touch, but it locked his muscles. This time, despite his struggles, he couldn't get free.

He searched for the threat in Kyril's gaze, a predatory glint or cold shadow. The placid softness he found was even more eerie.

"Let go." He meant it as an order, fierce and bold, but it tripped from his tongue with a questioning upward lilt.

Kyril leaned in, fingers toying with Corvin's clenched fists. Despite his lithe strength and even the few years of age he claimed over Corvin, he remained a head shorter. His sagging ears were easier to stare at than the eyes hidden beneath a messy reddish fringe. When his head tilted, however, every feature slid to follow the slant of his teasing smile. "Oh, you can be so hopelessly dramatic." The tuft of fur that hung from his chin scratched at Corvin's bare chest. "I will never let you go, my doe. That's why I brought you back to me."

Corvin swallowed. There might as well have been spikes lining his throat, prickling all the way down. "I thought I was nothing to you."

Remorse—it had to be—sapped the light from his eyes, tugging them downward. "I shouldn't have said that to you." He scoffed after a fragment of a second, one ear lifting, face angled again to show Corvin a lopsided smile. "You know me," he said softly, gaze a dizzying kaleidoscope as it searched Corvin's expression with fervour. "I say stupid things. You know I'll always love you."

The air fled Corvin's lungs. Thick fluid replaced it, pressing heavily on his chest and wrenching up his throat. Tears broke through before he even thought to stop them. This time, there was no hiding the rain they dripped down his cheeks. He scrunched his eyes half-shut, sure he'd been struck.

A sharp nail swiped at the tears, a calloused palm cupping his cheek. "Oh, Corvi." Kyril's voice was soft as feathered wings, thin enough to crackle with the bone beneath. "It's okay."

It would be so easy to lean into the touch of that hand. An ache sprawled in Corvin's core, begging him to. Everything within him hitched to restrain the desire. Through a clenched jaw, he forced words so broken they hurt to speak: "Let go of me."

Kyril's smile sank. Reluctance made the action slow, his fingers limp and claws curled in, but he complied.

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