How to Be a God [ManXMan]

Chapter Twenty-Three: Oh, Family...

~Chapter Twenty-Three: Oh, Family...~

One would think landing in the snow would cushion the fall, but that is only true in the fluffy snow. This snow is practically lightly-packed ice and feels more like I am hitting a hardwood floor covered by a soft rug rather than a bunch of pillows. Add in the weight of whatever tackled me and the grunt that is forced from my lungs is completely justified.

However, I only allow myself a few seconds to hate the being that made me land face first before I struggle to stand up, which I am determined to do even with the thing on my back. Despite my best efforts, though, whatever is on my back remains unrelenting and I only manage to bury myself further into the snow. Fur brushes against the nape of my neck and, for a moment, I think it is my cloak, but the fur is softer than the cloak's and genuine fear causes my body to lock up.

There is a hound on me.

Or, at least, that is what I though. Hands, not paws, wrap around my wrists and yank them behind my back, hard enough to make me grunt without being hard enough to actually hurt. The person wraps something thick – rope? –around them, from wrist to elbow, almost too tight for comfort. Then the weight shifts before fully disappearing and I get rolled on my side by a booted foot.

Blinking the snow from my eyes proves to be difficult, but just by seeing his hazy outline, I know who it is. "Uncle?" I sputter, surprised to see none other than Gwyn ap Nudd glowering down at me. The word 'furious' does not even begin to describe what I am seeing displayed on his face.

"I have been looking for you, Ainmire," my uncle states with no attempt to mask the irritation in his voice, lowering himself to kneel beside me in the snow. "You used ward stones against me."

"You would have found me otherwise," I reply, unapologetic. It is not like I am going to lie and say that he was not the main, if not only, reason for me putting up those wards in the first place.

Gwyn glowers down at me for a moment before standing up and brings his fingers to his lips. He releases a loud whistle and the hounds' baying stop immediately, though it does little to calm the nervous fluttering in my stomach. "Your mother is worrying herself sick," he states, this time with noticeably less annoyance. One of the white hounds – were they always this big? – comes to sit beside him.

Mother is sick?

"Wait, is that some figure of speech?" I inquire suspiciously, seeing as Ullr said something very similar and had not meant for me to take it literally.

The withering look I receive makes me inwardly cringe. "No," he answers with a bit of a growl, "my sister is so worried that she is sick. It may not be an actual human illness, but she sleeps little and barely eats."

That is bad.

I knew they would not be taking my disappearance well, but I was not expecting it to be this bad. Then again, what else should I have expected? Some gods would not care if their children went missing, as some gods do that all the time. However, my parents love me, which is not something many gods can say; they would have done everything in their power to find me.

I wonder if Mother is even still living with Father.

Lowering my gaze to stare at my feet, the numbing cold on my back suddenly feels like nothing compared to the discomfort in my chest. "How long has Mother been like that?" I ask weakly, barely noticing another giant hound sit down on Gwyn's other side.

My uncle kneels next to me again and, though I do not look up at him to confirm, I can hear the gentleness in his tone, as if he wants to soothe me. "Ever since you disappeared. Here, it was only one hundred or so years, but your mother refused to spend more than a day in Faerie, lest she lose time looking for you."