Maleki:

I think Miko and I were lucky. We grew up like this, in nature, away from politics and conflicts. Of course, we understood those things and how they affected us, but we watched them on a smaller scale in our day-to-day lives. The carving-beatles that pushed too close to the war ant’s mound. Grave Hawks that swoop down upon rodents in the fields. The animals have their own battles; they speak the language of strength and order, but they, too, watch their borders.

Miko says we were lucky to be raised in Outer Korvast, and I suppose I couldn’t disagree. I feel that there’s more to that, though. We have seen only one perspective, so what is life like inside those bustling walls? Do they see us as simpletons, or do they envy our freedom amongst nature’s lakes and trees?

I knew this journey was bound to answer those questions, but I just wanted to enjoy this freedom for a moment longer.

I set Miko down on a patch of grass and walked to the front of the rippling water — the surface being so clear that two of the moons could be seen perfectly off the top. A bright glimmering appeared throughout the ripples in the water from the light of the Astral Ring in the sky, which was always over our heads no matter where we traveled.

I took a few steps into the shallow end of the water and brought the water up to my forearms by cupping my hands. I washed the sweat from my face and wet my hair to help cool down from all those hours sitting. 

“This water isn’t as cold as the pond back home,” I said aloud.

Miko reached forward a little to where his hands could touch the water. “We’re getting closer to the eastern ocean. I’ve read that the currents there are warmer!” 

“Speaking of that. How many books do you think you’ve read?” I asked him.

“I don’t know. Whatever I can steal from Grandpa’s study. He doesn’t have a lot, mostly stuff about nature, cities, and farming. If I had to guess, maybe forty or so.” Miko glanced up toward the sky with his palms to the ground and his elbows locked.

“I’m not sure how many I’ve really read. Father read some story books to me when we were little, and I read a few of his combat training books he carried when he wasn’t around.” I responded.

“Speaking of father…” Miko said with a dry laugh as if to help ease the cut away to his next question. “Remind me again. What was he like?” Miko was still looking away from me.

“Who? Dad?” I asked. 

He didn’t answer.

“Hmmm. That hard to remember for you?” I walked up the shore and laid back in the grass. I crossed my arms behind my neck and looked up to the sky as well.

“He was tall—short dark hair with a thick beard, but he kept that short, too. Probably grandfathers doing.” I started.

“I remember what he looked like, Maleki. What was he like?”

“Oh,” I laughed awkwardly. “Father had a temper….he and mom argued a lot.” I reluctantly sighed.

“I remember that too. I guess…I mean, what were they like before?” 

I stayed alert to the sky. “Before? Was there a before? It wasn’t all bad, you know? I guess I just struggle to recall the good memories. Sometimes, they feel fabricated, or I can barely remember them at all, but they do exist, I know that. They just drift away easier than the bad memories. On other days, I can’t tell if the worst ones even happened, as if I imagined them up to torture myself. I know I didn’t really answer your question — you should ask Grandmother instead — she always tells the truth.”

“She won’t lie. There’s a difference.” Miko said with emphasis as if he was repeating something I already knew. “Grandmother refuses to tell me things she thinks might harm me, and Grandfather avoids complex conversations altogether. So, you can imagine how helpful they are when I ask them questions about the parents. They avoid talking about them in general, as if even saying their names will bring a plague.”

It had been years since we last saw them. They left a little longer after Miko got sick but well before it got this bad. They blamed each other a lot, so they did what they thought was best and left us here to find answers. Miko probably subconsciously blocks out everything; I don’t blame him; I sort of do the same intentionally. “Do you miss them?”

“No.” He said bluntly before correcting himself. “I mean, not really. A little. I don’t miss them; I just wish I knew them more. They only knew me when I was little — before I could read — when all I cared about was playing. They don’t really know me, and I don’t really know much about them, I guess. Their interests, the way they think and talk, those weren’t important to me. I know it’s only natural since I was so little, but I wish I knew — really knew them, ya know?” His last words drifted, and through my peripheral, I saw him turn his head to me to try and read my face. “Do you miss them?”

“Of course,” I said as I turned towards him. “I miss Mother’s competitiveness. I miss how Father would show me plants and animals and teach me things about them. They were great alone; it was like, at that moment, you were the only person that existed. We knew them as parents, Miko — as we should have.

“Where do you think they are?” Miko asked.

I crossed my arms and smiled. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since they sent anything. They probably gave up on the known stuff. Resorting to searching for the unknown, like us.” Miko looked away from me as other thoughts bubbled at the surface of his mind, revealing themselves in his eyes and frown. “It’s not your fault they left. You know that, right? I don’t blame you for them leaving. I miss them, but it’s been better with them not here. We’re here, brother — that’s all that matters to me.” There was a loud silence as I waited for him to acknowledge me, but he never did.

“We should probably go find the driver.” Miko asserted.

I  agreed and then cupped one last splash of water onto my face and rubbed my eyes before picking up Miko to return to the cart. I climbed back up the slope around the trees and saw the driver leaning against the side of the carriage. It looked like he had just finished hooking one of the horses back up to the line after taking them to drink some water. 

“Enjoy frolicking in the water?” the driver mockingly gestured. His voice didn’t seem as deep as it was earlier.

“Yes, actually. It’s beautiful out here.” Miko jabbed back.

“You aren’t even wet.” The driver said.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I would drown in that water, seeing as to the fact that I can’t move my legs,” Miko said as he crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it, brat.” He pulled out a yellowish map with some red markings of our route. “This is the last real break before your destination. We have a long trek through the forest, but the only stop is for the night and a second stop where we can get water for the horses and us. I would rest when you can,”

I climbed the steps with Miko on my back and then took him to his spot in the carriage. I sat back in my seat and eyed the driver as he climbed back onto his area at the front of the carriage. Something was off about him. He knew a lot about this, but his demeanor was still amateurish, like he had the info but not the execution.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked a little louder so he could hear from my position at the back.

“That’s an odd question, you think?” He responded.

“True. I mean, is this normal? I don’t imagine there are many people close to our age driving carriages this far away from home or even working alone at all.” 

“We all have our reasons. I don’t think there are too many kids traveling on their own to a Kingdom they barely know anything about, on roads they know even less of.” The driver’s tone wasn’t rude, but it seemed like he was also curious about our opposing situations. 

I wanted to ask the driver more questions, like where his home was or where his parents were, but it didn’t feel right. I didn’t even know where my own parents were or why they really left. What could I share with a person when I have nothing to offer in return other than myseries?