Lost in my thoughts, it takes me a moment to register the voice calling my name. “Hello, Availhar.” He says, which does nothing to calm my heart which pulses as if someone were jumping upon my chest repeatedly. I had spoken to the staff earlier and they had told me that he would not return for another 3 nights. “Miss me?” My throat went dry as he and his retainers approached. Not all of my siblings were terrible. They mostly just call me a bastard and maybe give me a beating, but not Simael. Since I was a boy, Simael would see to it that so long as I was not killed (since it would get him in trouble I guess), I would suffer as much as he could make me. Since Wren was brought to the house, I would hide away with him during Simael’s visits, alongside an excuse fed to the staff about traveling away from the house. I have no idea how he knew but he has found me and I am scared. Prayers feed themselves into my mind; I was ashamed to realize they were not for Wren, but for myself, that I could escape.

“…and who is this?” he walks towards Wren while I try to look meek, hoping to reduce the severity of his beating; the stick slips from my hand. “could this be my darling little brother Wren?” he asks in a honeyed voice. Before I can yell to Wren to not trust Simael, or simply to run, a hand reaches over my mouth, and begins to pull me backwards. I kick backwards and a grunt lets me know I struck true. Simael’s gang might really kill me this time. With my mouth now free, I scream out “Wren-“ a gag is thrust into my mouth and Im picked up with limbs flailing and drug behind some bushes. I lie still as they throw me to the ground and bind my hands. As long as I am alive.

“Wren, I saw you deuling with Vaily, do you want to show me your skills, too? That is, I challenge you to a duel.” Like the final clue in a mystery, all of his actions finally come together. I try moving my hands or feet, but I can do less than the average worm. I scream into the gag but little noise comes out. When Wren’s voice responded the world went still.

“I know you are a bad man. You beat up my brother,” he said. “Im not stupid”. A smile crept across my face. Even if Simael beat him within an inch of his life, he could not kill him; not unless Wren accepted the duel. “Which is why I, champion Wren, shall best you in the dance of blades.” I redouble my screaming effort. I need to be heard. I need to save him. Fear and anger seem to mix, and I can seemingly no longer think. I try to look at what is going on but I cannot get up. I cannot see across the bushes. I cannot even see the grass in front of me. Waves of nausea roll over me and I can taste the acidic taste of vomit behind the gag. With nowhere to go the vomit sits in my throat and I struggle to breathe. Wren will die. I will die. I faintly hear the clang of steel on steel once, twice, over the sound of rushing blood.

After a moment there is silence and my mind dares to hope that Wren is some sort of prodigy who can best a full-grown man at only 7. Logically I know this is not true. If I could beat Wren in a duel, Simael would rout him. A laugh rises over the bushes; it is not the sort of laugh that most would describe as evil, it sounds more like a light hearted chuckle. I cannot stop the screaming which drives more bile into my throat. My throat burns as though I had lit a fire in it, and I don’t care. I keep screaming into the gag as if it can do anything. As if it can bring Wren back. One of his “friends” removes the gag from my mouth and brings me to a kneel, while I scream the whole way. I am not even sure if I am screaming words anymore. Simael rounds the bushes and my screaming stops, tears still running down my face. I cower from him. Why? Why am I not cursing his name? He walks up to me and grabs my bonds, pulling me to shaking feet. I wish I did not move even a half pace, but my feet seem to move on their own. He takes me over to the field where I was laughing and playing with Wren just minutes ago. Among the grass I see Wren- and vomit again before falling to the floor. Simael keeps me from falling fully, and he forces me back to my feet, assumedly with a smile, though I wouldn’t know with my eyes glued to my feet as they are. He drags me over towards Wren- the body that was Wren, and suddenly I have the courage to start kicking and screaming. He drops me from his grip and grabs at his face; hopefully I poked his eye out. Before I can get a good look, though, his friends are back, and are able to grab me between three of them and dragging me towards his body. The auditor of the duel stands silently watching, likely paid off by Simael.

When they toss me to the ground again, I feel something warm and wet beneath my left arm, but I know better than to look down. I am a coward. Forcefully, the men untie me but keep me held to the ground. The jiang, which had presumably been given to Wren, lay between me and Simael.

“I challenge you to a duel.” Simael said, grinning.

---~

Little among the swamps moved unbeknownst to me. Years of hunting among the tall green trees and wide and numerous plants have given me insight into the life of all who live here. That is why I do not fear, as many would, to drag my kill through a dry stretch of land in my canoe in order to save time. I have been around here long enough to know that any predators which truly could pose a threat didn’t occupy the area.

In a way, the swamps had become for me a home in the same way that the villagers may call the village their home. I know where animals live and hunt, what they experience, what they eat. Here, I can be comfortable apart from those neighbors who would disguise their intentions. Not that humans aren’t useful. Humans had made me arrowheads, which I cannot make on my own. They give me clothes which dry of moisture quickly and kept heat even in water. There is no denying that the product of all this scheming is something valuable. Still I want no part in it. If humans will not be truthful, I will not be living among them. Ahhh, I have reached the water again. At least paddling was easier than dragging.

…

Once I return to my home, I drag the boar from the canoe and lay it on the floor of the smoke house. I will need to skin and quarter the fellow later, but, for now, I want nothing more than to see Tawlyn and then lie down until the world crumbles.

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