Seven: Kuraĝon

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Kuraĝon

All was well for a while after they’d returned. Both of them spent the time cleaning their home out again, checking all the stores, and making sure that they had enough stocked away to last them through the winter. If her brother’s instincts were right, then they were in for a cold, heavy winter.

Still, though, the younger elf had the sense that he was only biding his time, restless for when he could return to his wandering. She had no idea if he would leave unexpectedly, without telling her, forcing her to wake up and find him gone. She hoped not, but there was no knowing with him. over the years, he had grown more distant, often staying away during the night and not telling her where he’d been. Despite her worry, she hadn’t pressed him, knowing that he had been through much in their ears apart. Sometimes, even now, she still didn’t feel that she knew him.

Returning to their home with her kill, a few fat rabbits, she found him outside, sharpening his dagger.

“Ali, where do you want the rabbits?”

He glanced at her. “They’re not skinned?”

She shook her head. She would kill easily for their dinner, but she refused to skin them.

“Here, then.” He gestured to the ground beside him. “I’ll skin and gut them.”

She shuddered, and dropped them on the ground.  “Good riddance,” she muttered. He grinned at her, just as the beastkins came bursting out of the woods, heading straight for the rabbits.

“Vakt!”

“Hunaja.”

The names rang out at the same time, pulling the young creatures up short. Each crept to their respective elf, both purring in hopes of gaining a rabbit. Kuraĝon rubbed Vakt’s head with a sigh.

“You can have the guts when he’s done, Vakt.” She met her brother’s eyes ruefully. “Right?”

“Looks like it. Go on, Kura. I know you still don’t like this.”

She glared at him, and vanished inside. The beastkins stayed put, already begging.

She shook her head over them, smiling to herself, and cleaned her dagger of blood. The unspoken agreement between them had worked well over the years, she bagging their game, and her brother skinning and cooking it. She much preferred being outside anyway.

With a sigh, she toed her boots off, throwing them carelessly into the corner of her room. Despite everything that had happened, their years apart had created a deep void that she still couldn’t completely close. Her brother still sometimes closed her out, a faraway look in his eyes, and she knew that he was thinking of the priestess. She still felt guilty for the choice he had been forced to make, even though it hadn’t been her fault.

She blamed everything on the priestess.

She walked to the doorway, intending to tell him – again – that he didn’t have to stay with her, and froze, the words drying up in her mouth.

For once, the beastkins were still and quiet. Both of them were lying down, watching Ali with unblinking golden eyes. Her brother was still also, just staring into the woods, and she knew that the call had become stronger.

She swallowed on fear. “Ali?”

The sound of her voice broke the spell of the still woods, and the beastkins stirred, relaxing. Hunaja rolled over, scratching her back against the rough ground.

Kuraĝon moved to her brother’s side, disregarding the fact that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. She put a hand on his shoulder cautiously.

“Ali?”

He shook his head a little, as if he were waking from a long sleep, and looked at her.

“Ali, the call … Is it too strong?”

He shook his head again, letting his scarred fingers rest on Hunaja's dust-covered head when she came to his side.

“No,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Just a warning. Winter is coming, and he will let me rest. But I can’t forget.”

She nodded, fear quickening her breaths. “Are you lonely?” she whispered, not even sure if she wanted to ask and know the answer.

“I promised I would stay with you, little sister.”

“That’s not what I was asking!” she snapped, for once furious that he knew what she really wanted to ask. “Are you lonely?”

He turned, looking at her or a long moment. “No,” he answered at last. “But you are, Kura.”

She stared at him. “What … what do you mean?”

He shrugged, turning to pick up the two skinned rabbits. “You’re young,” he said simply. “You should be doing what you want, not hiding here.”

“Excuse me, but we’re a hunted race!” she snapped. “If we don’t hide, then where will we be? Dead!"

Again, he shrugged. “I know. But don’t feel you have to stay here, Kura.”

She could find no words to answer him, and he disappeared into the house, Hunaja close on his heels.

Kuraĝon stayed where she was, scratching Vakt’s head, trying to understand where she had lost the conversation. She’d meant to give him the  choice, but instead, he’d given her one, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

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