Caesaria

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A cardinal swooped down to the lowest branch of the ash. A blur of red shooting through the shafts of golden sun. Red in the water. There should've been red in the water.

Jackson's eyes followed its vibrant frippery. He sat on a gnarled root, running his finger along his knife. The divots his sister had etched were worn and soft, but still legible.

To my faaaaavourite brother, it said, closed with a lopsided smiley face.

The cardinal crooned. 

You are her brother. You're supposed to PROTECT HER, why weren't you PROTECTING HER?!

"I hear you..." he sighed. From his pack, he pulled out a leftover crust. He'd been scouting for outlanders, he'd said. But that was a farce. This had been a pilgrimage, one to the deepest woods, to the oldest of the trees. He was here, at this ancient, gnarled tree, roots knotted, twisted, bulging from the earth, to commune with the spirits. Any answer, he would take. Any advice, he'd gladly follow. But so far, he'd had no such fortune.

This never would've happened if you'd been PROTECTING HER! 

 The cardinal fluttered off the branch and into the dirt, picking at the crumbs Jackson tossed him. Bit by bit, the bird had his feast. Jackson held his hands wide open, frowning. "That's it," he sighed.

The bird hopped an inch closer.

"That's all."

The bird cocked its head. It continued. Waiting.

I know. 

Jackson cocked an eyebrow, sighed. It was a brilliant little thing. It's feathers were blood, flawless and sleek and shining in the sun. Birds were one of the few creatures to survive the end of the world, at least some of them. Cardinals were the special ones. Special souls, his father has told him. The old tales said they were departed spirits, coming to visit those they'd left behind.

He remembered a story. Lucy had been a mere babe at the breast, but he'd been just old enough to hear his father's gruff voice in the back of his mind.

"When I was your age, my father told me that cardinals were the souls of loved ones. He said that whenever he was visited by one of the birds, it was his mother, his father, my sister. Reminding him of the love he'd held for them. Cardinals never want you to be sad. No more than any loved one does. They only want you to remember. Cherish the memories, the moments with those you love, Jack. One day, when I join the ancestors, I'll visit you like that Cardinal. Always remember how much I love you. And that I'll always be there."

He hadn't thought much of it as a boy. Why would he? Most children don't consider that one day, they might fall asleep and not wake up. They might not survive a battle, or make it through a harsh winter. So full of youth, of naïveté, to recognize how close death hovered. Most young ones don't understand love, either. Love is funny; children get the most of it, yet they grasp it the least.

SHE WILL DIE BECAUSE OF YOU!

He sucked in a sharp breath. 

I KNOW!

Lucy didn't wake up that day thinking she'd fall down a waterfall. Neither did he. Neither did mother, or father, the entire tribe. If Jackson had known, he'd never have let her within a mile of the falls. I killed my sister, he thought. I murdered my sister.

What did I think we were? Invincible? Infallible?

The bird hopped again. It was so close, he could almost reach out and pet it's crested head. He would've ignored it, if it hadn't been for the loud chirp it gave him. This time, when he looked at the bird, he only saw it through the knife he held in his hands, that brilliant red glinting in the runic steel.

As his brown eyes widened, head turning up to catch the creature, it flew away, crooning madly. Almost like it was having a good laugh at him. He watched it fly up and up, high into the trees, back in the direction he'd come from. 

He felt his heart tighten, and his tears begin to fall. And then, he smiled. 

He raced back to the village, not knowing what to expect, but hoping. It was all he had.