HALDEN

‘It’s true that he’d always been able to wield that kunai like it was a part of him. But Kor really had been like a fawn. Gentle and delicate. Pale and thoughtful and sweet. Right up until that awful day when everything changed.’

— Halden, “Sweet” They Come at Night

As Korik stalks off into the night without another word I round on my friend. “What’s he talking about, Sten?”

“Nothing.”

“That was quite a threat for nothing,” I counter.

Sten waves me off. “Don’t worry about it—he’s clearly brain-mad.” 

I try to push the issue, but he gets me first. 

“What’s this about you being from Ditchwater, Halden? I thought you were from Lindgard.” 

I stop dead. 

I’ve lied. I’ve lied to them. I’ve lied to so many people. And now it’s finally catching up with me. 

I swallow hard. “I…was.” 

My whole flight is staring at me. They’ll never let me brush this aside—I’ve already said too much. 

The truth… How much can I get away with not saying?

“My mother died in the war. And my father…in a fire. And I—”

You can’t say it. You can never say it. Even to yourself. The truth will get you killed. 

“…ended up in Ditchwater.” 

“With him as a roommate? That's rotten luck,” Erna snorts.

“Not at first. He came later.” Out of a rainstorm looking half-dead and half-drowned. 

“Wait…so he’s not from Ditchwater either?” Finnur questions.

“No, Korik—” I catch myself too late. 

But the surname sounds wrong in my mouth. Like my tongue knows it doesn’t belong to him. Like it fits him as badly as his uniform. 

“Dagrúnarson came from the woods. He was nearly seven when they brought him to the Fledgling Hall.” 

And then I remember we’re the same age. Hatched the same day. The night once a year when the full moon is swallowed by darkness. Dark Night. 

“The woods?” Finnur repeats and I’m pulled back into the conversation. 

“The Wurm Wood.”

“Feck…” His blue eyes fill with unchecked fear as they shift toward the woods looming like the spines of a massive beast in the near distance. 

I’ve never been in them. I can’t even imagine what foolish desperation would possess someone to willingly live in them. 

“Why didn’t you take the name of your brood mother?” Lilja asks, her tone curious instead of accusatory. 

Because I didn’t want her name tying me to him like a noose. 

I finally pull my gaze from the Wurm Wood. “Because we didn’t age out, Ditchwater was destroyed first.”

“Then who’s Aníka?” Sten all but demands. 

I stare at him for a moment. “My…mother.”

You’re such a filthy liar. 

“What was the Ditchwater Fawn’s surname? You know, before?”

Before the massacre? Before who-knows-what-happened to Mother Dagrún? Before he—

“He never had one,” I tell them before I consider whether it’s a secret he’d mind anyone knowing. 

That catches them all off guard. Makes them uneasy.

Kor always made people uneasy. Like his continued existence violated nature. 

“He was…unclaimed?” Erna says like it’s taboo even to say such a thing aloud. 

He wasn’t. His mother probably fought to her last breath for him. But yours, Hal…she never claimed you. You’re a lie. A damn lie. And you know it.

“Do you think his kin abandoned him in the Wurm Wood because he’s colorless?” Erna questions the rest of our flight. 

“No, he…lived with his mother until the Marsh Knights brought him to the Fledgling Hall,” I clarify.

“What happened to his mother?” Finnur asks. 

Lilja elbows her kin in the side. “What do you think, idiot?” 

Finnur startles when he finally realizes that she was probably devoured. 

“Was he always like that?” Erna asks. 

“Like what?” I question.

“Volatile.” 

Is that how they see him? I think back over the evening’s events. Over the last year. Of course that’s what they see. 

“No, actually he used to be really quiet and sweet,” I admit.

“Sweet?” she repeats skeptically. 

I shrug. “Yeah you know, like a bunny or a…fawn. Gentle. Harmless. Sweet.” 

My flight is looking at me like I’ve gone berserk. Like I’m rabid and foaming at the mouth. 

Lilja shifts her blue-eyed gaze to the others before returning it to me. “But you just said he played with blades.” 

I attempt to backstep as quickly as I can. “Yeah, well, that never stopped him from getting his ass beat.” 

It’s true that he’d always been able to wield that kunai like it was a part of him. But Kor really had been like a fawn. Gentle and delicate. Pale and thoughtful and sweet. Right up until that awful day when everything changed. 

That day I can’t ever take back. 

Oh damn. What exactly happened to Korik to turn him from a sweet gentle fawn into the snarky blade wielder he is today? And what part did Hal play in it?

Find out in the next episode of They Come at Night!