Fractured Youth

Bastard - 1

Age: 2

I watched as my mom gently pressed a heavy thing into my hand, I couldn't really tell what it was, but my instincts told me it was dangerous. I just looked at the sharp, shiny thing in my hand before looking up at my mother curiously. She smiled a little, though it was strained. Her smiles were always strained.
"It's a knife, my brave little boy. It'll help keep you alive someday. The way it did for me." She murmured to me, sitting on her knees in front of me.

Even then, I knew my mother was beautiful, even by Fae standards; she had raven black hair and deep blue eyes that seemed to shimmer in the light. People often thought of her eyes closer to violet than blue. She was tall for a woman, and had an aura of power and intelligence. I admired her.

I knew I was a spitting image of her, and she never spoke of my father. I didn't even know his name or what he looked like. No matter How many times I tried to ask. Any time I did, her eyes would grow stormy and an icy edge would creep into her voice. It scared me enough that I'd learned not to ask.

My mom was looking at me expectantly and I tilted my head.
"Nife?" I asked. She smiled a little and nodded.
"Yes Caliban, it's a knife. It's a tool, a weapon. You'll need one some day." She said softly.

I looked at the knife in my hand and waved it a little, at the same moment, a sharp pain ran through my left palm and I shrieked quietly. My mother quickly shushed me and looked at my cut hand; I'd somehow cut myself with the knife in my right hand. She gave a small sigh of relief and gently bound my hand.
"See? It's a weapon Caliban. Weapons hold power, but that power can only come out when you're strong enough to use it. Do you understand?" She asked. I nodded, not crying from the pain in my hand.

She gently took the knife back from me and cleaned my blood off it before putting it away. She then picked me up.
"Time to move again, my little warrior." She said, I pouted and she chuckled softly. "I know Cal, I know."

She winnowed us away, to a new grove in the woods. from the chill, I knew we were closer to Winter Court than before. I shivered, and my mom wrapped me in a light blanket that didn't do much.
"Embrace the cold Caliban. With Day Court after us, the cold means we're still alive." She said, I looked up and met her eyes, the exact mirror of my own, and I nodded. She nodded grimly and put me down, starting to make camp. I did my best to help, though I usually made it worse, tripping over the small pack my mom kept with us about 5 times.

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That night, while my mother slept, I squirmed out of her arms and tried to pull the knife she'd given me out of its sheath. It took me nearly an hour, but I managed. I toddled out of our little alcove -we never made a tent- and started hacking at a tree, trying to figure out how to control the power of a knife on my own.

I didn't hear the crunch of feet on leaves behind me until a female voice I didn't recognize said from behind me,
"You're a long way from the courts little warrior."

I spun around to see a tall woman with white hair standing a few feet from me. She wore a hood, and a dark mask over her mouth and nose. I held the knife between me and her.
"Who-who are you?" I stammered, hoping I didn't seem as afraid as I really was.
"I'm not your enemy Little Warrior. I'm a friend." She said, I could almost hear the small smile in her voice. But I didn't lower the knife. She chuckled softly. "Your mother is a smart woman, I would've been worried if you'd put the knife down." She crouched down to be my height, I could see her ice-blue eyes that revealed no emotion.
"Don't train at night Little one. Or less friendly spies, assassins or soldiers could find you. Stay with your mother, Warrior." She warned before standing and walking off. Disappearing into the shadows.

Shaking, I ran to where my mother was still asleep, and put the knife away, curling up in her arms. I had trouble sleeping that night.

When I woke the next morning, I was almost certain I'd dreamed the whole event, and didn't tell my mom, who set to training me with the knife. I listened. Telling myself I'd never be caught off guard again.