Behind the Flames .:H2OVanoss:.

.:Chapter 3:.

..•Eleven years later•..

Fluffy snowdrops drifted elegantly toward to the icy ground. Dark gray clouds covered the silvery blue sky, with a soft wind whistling along the snow covered hills and glaciers. The freezing waters of the Arctic world remained still, flat as the untouched snowfall, with not a single ripple to be seen along its chill surface. All was peaceful, relaxed, silent, and empty.
          A beautiful silver bass slithered through the dark blue waters just below the water line, occasionally popping its head up and tasting the surface in search of food. Bits of random meat floated into its mouth, and he gobbled it up hungrily. However, the large fish was unaware that he, the hunter, would soon become the prey. In a swift and sudden strike, something long and sharp punctured its tough scales, spearing right through its body and sending a cloud of blood in its wake. A moment of struggle, then it was dead.
          The silver beauty was yanked out of the water, dripping with what was once clear water now mixed to scarlet with its own oozing blood. It was tossed recklessly onto the ice with a splat, soon to be collected and joined with its other dead brethren in a Tiger Seal skin pack.
          A tall, thin man picked it up with his dark brown mittens and placed it in said pack. He wore a long dark blue coat, laced on the edges with white Camel Yak hide and patches of thick Arctic Hen feathers on the shoulders and elbows, as well as a couple dangling proudly alongside multiple animal's teeth from the leather strap necklace around his neck. His black hair was short, but long enough to cover his ears and keep them warm from the cold.
          He gazed up at the back of his companion, who was wearing the exact same attire except for a slightly different styled coat and prizes hanging from his neck, standing beside the water's edge. His navy blue hood was up, shielding his thick brown locks from view. 
          "That's number five, and we've only been out an hour and a half. The fish are pretty eager today." The first man said with a deep, rumbly voice, slinging the sac over his shoulder. "How many did we need again?"
          His companion looked up from the water as if in a trance. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder, revealing a smooth porcelain mask behind the white fur rimming his hood. Smeared on both cheeks of the mask were two bloodied finger prints dragging backwards towards the jawline, another speared above the eyes. Reflective blue paint dappled the forehead, crowning yet another triangular blood smear. More spots of blue painted over where his mouth was meant to be.
        He stared back with sapphires that reflected a scarred, lonely man.
          "Jon? Are you ok?" The one holding the fish asked his masked brother.
          "Same answer as last time, David. Nothing's gonna change." He snickered a sarcastic response and picked up his spear, inspecting the blood on the tip. "Just when we thought everything was going to be ok, all this shit had to happen." He growled, his voice only slightly muffled by the mask. "Life never gives us a break. It just does everything it can to bring us down, and laughs at us as we fall apart." His words were the immature babbles of a child without hope, and it tugged at David's heart.
          "Stop it, Jon. Sahel did everything he could to take care of us after we were forced from the island. He took us in like we were his own! He was already old and sick, we should be thankful he stayed with us for as long as he did." As he spoke, it sent a spike of pain through Jonathan's grieving heart.
          "He was the father I never had, David!" Jonathan hissed, stomping up to his brother. "When we couldn't find my mother or your parents after we left, we both became orphans! Outcasts in a new world, scarred and left for dead! No one wanted us! They looked at us as if we were the reasons we were outcasted, different because of our culture, our language, even our names! Sahel was the only one who took pity on us! He taught us how to survive in this hell! He showed us what a father's love really is. Does that mean nothing to you?!" He grabbed the giant by his coat and yanked him down to eye level.
          David glared challengingly into Jonathan's eyes. "Of course it means something! He means just as much to me as he does to you!! The difference is, I choose to acknowledge his time in my life, and appreciate what he did for me! Yes, I'm sad," he pulled away, towering over Jonathan. "But I also know he wouldn't want me to be sad all the time. Unlike what you are doing. He would have faith in us to keep going, and survive."
          Jonathan glared daggers back at David, but the truth he spoke won over. Jon lowered his head and his body shook with sobs. "I-I know, he doesn't.. It's just so hard to let go.. I feel like I've said 'goodbye' more than any other word in my vocabulary." He brought his gloved hand up, sliding off the mask and showing his face to the now only man in the tribe who had memory of his hideous zig-zag scar. Tears pooled over his eyelids and he struggled to wipe them away shamefully.
          If you could hear the sound of a breaking heart, David's would have been loud and clear. He pulled Jon into a tight hug, resting his chin on his head and rubbing circles into his back. Together, the two cried softly, alone and left to grieve for their father in the never ending arctic tundra.