The Boy and the Animal

Part I | Twenty-Three

The crackle of the infant fire broke the silence of the settling night.

A gentle heat emanated off of the small, though growing, flame in the nest of wood. It seemed to lose itself in the cool air crawling out of the ground with the sun missing, but as they added more to its stomach, it reached their chilled skin; feeding it was a tedious thing, however, as the self-conscious thing constantly needed compliments or it would die.

The fire nibbled on the sticks and piles of bark, unsure of the taste, in such a way that reminded the man sitting in front of it of the untamed animal that had occupied his basement for a year.  And like that boy, it soon found its rhythm, and settled until it was large and hot enough to warm them.

The campfire, after some time of nurturing, twirled and yawned in its little nest, orange glow glimmering out across the ground before disappearing into the woods. Dark trusted it, knowing, although he would have to feed it throughout the night until morning, it would last them.

Around that fire, the night slept with only the whispering crackles as a nursery rhyme. The creatures who had been so vocal before were now fast asleep, leaving an almost eerie absence in their wake. It was such a gradual thing, but when they realized it- it seemed so sudden.  The woods became empty, all except for them.

Jesiter settled himself down beside the man on a small bunch of leaves that he'd gathered, lips curling at the feel of the warmth stroking his face. It reminded him of the bread that Dark would make back home in the kitchen, how he would watch it sit in the oven and grow with the toasty heat. For the first time, he could feel himself relax.

The two of them sat together in front of the fire, nestled in its warmth and each other's. It was a strange thing, the boy thought. Their faces and torsos were so warm, but their backs so cold, half cooked like a steak that needed to be flipped- the smoke like the familiar scent of burning eggs.

Dark hadn't really noticed before. He could smell on the tail of the wind that swam by them that Winter would be approaching not too long from then, and for once in a long time he cared. In his inn, seasons change by guest and decorations- not by nature. Not by anything without human touch. And the flame- it was that reconnect to roots he'd cut away, a thing that brought neither content nor disgust.

"Story?" Jesiter asked when the moon had stretched out its sharp fangs and nestled into its blankets. Dark turned to him. "Cyrus book have fire. Stories friends."

Back home, he remembered listening to stories a a glowing ball of light that friends would gather around and tell stories to each other. The angry thing dancing in the bed of wood didn't really seem like the little sun he had heard about, but it seemed close enough. Sitting there in the quiet, it seemed like the only thing to do was to do as the characters in the book.

Dark pieced his words together for some kind of answer to the jumble of English fumbling out of his mouth. He had gotten much better from his usual growls, but it was still difficult when he tried to form more complicated ideas. Cyrus book have fire. Stories friends. He nodded.

"You want me to tell you a story?" He asked. The boy folded his hands. Dark gave a half smirk and leaned back on his hands, gazing into the center of the flame. It was as good a time as any. "I don't know a lot of stories. But... My mother did tell me one a long time ago. It's about our family. You want to hear it?"

"Jessy want hear," the boy chirped. Dark chuckled.

"A thousand years ago, my ancestor found an injured wolf. She was a kind woman, a father at heart who simply couldn't leave the beast to die. So, she nursed it until it could run away again, and she'd forgotten about it soon after."

"See, my ancestor was one of the founders of the empire, the emperor's most trusted guard, but that trust became resentment as the people began to favor her leadership. The emperor betrayed her, set her up, and she found herself on the cusp of death. In that moment, however, a golden light flooded over her. The figure of the wold she'd saved came to her, fur glistening in the glow of sacred light. It was no mere wolf. It was Enicrih, the god of the wild."

"Enicrih made my ancestor a deal: work for him and his whims, and he would see to it that her bloodline would forever be blessed in fortune, fertility, and power. She agreed, and for nine hundred years, our family was the most powerful in the empire. Even the emperor bowed at our mention. Our estate was a small city. Our bloodline was boundless. Our influence was felt in every corner. My family did the bidding of Enicrih to protect the forests and wildlife inside, and we were paid handsomely for it."

"My great great grandfather, Sirius the Black Hand, wasn't anything like our patriarch. He didn't want to do what he was told, and he thirsted for absolute power. His greed sent him to the witches of Golmore Woods. Now, the witches were natural enemies of Enicrih, even more so than humans, because they actively took the resources of the land and put them in an order and organization that served them. They used the land, in other words, for what it was not meant for and harmed those who followed its rules."

"Sirius the Black Hand learned that these witches had been the ones to conjure Enicrih in this realm and injure him, and so he sought their help to finish the job and rid him of what he saw as his master. They agreed. The plan didn't work, however. Enicrih stopped Sirius in his tracks and possessed his body, using it to destroy the witches. When they were dead, he forced Sirius to disembowel himself in retribution for his betrayal."

"Since that day, our family's been cursed. No more money. No more power. And Cyrus, Sara, and I are all infertile. Sins of the fathers, right?"

Dark sighed. That was the story he'd never really given two thoughts about. It was always something he just figured his mother told him to explain why they were poor and had to live outside of the city. Under the grazes of recent events, however- considering what had happened in the inn and the all but coincidence of being charged with Enicrih's son- it seemed much less like a story and much more of a warning.

He didn't want to believe it, but he was sure that his family's history had now reached him. He had thought he was free from his father and brother's curse, but his future was as much determined as theirs. And that future demanded them passage to Enicrih again. The blood always seemed to find its way back to him.

A sudden coo of an owl brought him from his thoughts. Jesiter jolted and grabbed the man's arm, peering around with sweat gathering on his face. Dark pried his hand off and put some distance between them.

"It's just an owl. It's okay," he assured him. The boy nodded and sunk into himself, concentrating on the fire to distract himself. The man patted his back. "Don't worry. I'm not Cyrus, but I'm strong, too."  Jesiter twisted his face in a pout.

"Cyrus say Dark baby hands."

Dark's brow twitched at this, but the anger that might have normally come to him a month ago was replaced by a helpless laugh. He laid back against the ground and shut his eyes. If he was honest with himself, hearing the familiar tease made him feel a little less lonely. He felt like he had his big brother around again to bridge the gap between his business life and isolation and the brighter family life he missed.

Jesiter laid down beside him, and, as much as he wanted to, he remembered to keep his distance from the man who didn't take as much to affection as the other. And Dark slept with one eye, while the boy rested easy in his presence.

Tomorrow, they would set off toward the place of Jesiter's birth, but, at least for now, Dark would make sure his charge could rest easy.