Weight of Worlds

Wind whispered through the forest, rattling leaves that grew and withered and vanished, only to grow once more. Between the tall trunks of the trees, across the low brush, and mingling with the vines and fruits that hung between them.

Animals scurried from place to place, unafraid, despite the proximity of predators. Birds enticing partners, singing, showing off brightly colored feathers, or even dancing, they fluttered about high in the forest above the chittering squirrels, scavenging for insects and fruit.

High in the sky, so far above the canopy, it was reduced to a speck. A bird hovered, circling on warm currents of air. In the shade of a fallen tree, tail rising languidly, paws playing in the dappled light of the sun, another such predator rested. Eyes half-lidded despite the ears perked toward the cry of a young girl.

“No! Not like that! You can’t do that!” Frija whined. “It has to be like,” she made a vague and entirely arcane gesture with her hands, displaying for more agility and flexibility than Ranvir thought could be found in a human body. “It has to be like that.”

Squinting, he tried to summon the pattern she’d made in his mind.

“Nooo!” she said, pounding a fist on the branch she was sitting on, three feet above the ground.

Replicating the move with his grown-up body proved more difficult. Before he could even force another attempt, she raised both hands to her head and let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m trying, Firehearth, but I don’t think I can move like that.”

“Ugh,” she gave him a most vile look. “Fine. Just come up then.”

Ranvir stifled a sigh of his own and climbed onto the branch, which swayed and groaned. He had to bump her to the left a tad to make room for himself.

“You’re so big! Why do you take that much space? Menace can get up here easily, and he doesn’t want to make the wood cry!”

“Alright,” Ranvir said, jumping down and scooping her into his arms. “It might be time for a nap.”

“But you promised to play with me all day!”

“But we’re not playing anymore. You’re just yelling at me.” He scooped her into his arms and she shoved off, kicking at his middle.

“That’s still playing. We’re still playing!”

Ranvir scratched at his chin and squatted down next to her. “Getting yelled at is no fun, and it doesn’t feel like play to me. When the other kids yell at you, doesn’t that make you feel bad?”

Frija bowed her head and leaned forward until she rested against his chest, reaching her arms out to hug him. She let out a little humming whine and Ranvir’s chest felt as if it might tear in half. She looked up with wide adoring eyes, slightly watery from unshed tears.

“Please, can we still play?”

His spine buckled like it never had fighting Saleema. His spirit shivered with the force of personality only children could unleash. Inhaling sharply, he cupped her cheek. “Is that how you respond when you’ve hurt someone’s feelings?”

She let out a yowl, kicked his shin, and walked away. Ranvir sighed and dropped his head. That little girl could twist his heart up until he didn’t know right from wrong any longer.

Before Frija reached her kitty, Menace’s head perked up above the trunk and it looked down toward the road leading to the town. Frija walked over and began running her hands over its sides, shushing it. Menace’s bulk entirely eclipsed Frija’s form.

Through the whispering regrowth of the Writhing, people appeared. Shiri, red hair neatly pulled back. Laila walked at her side. The heir to Rime’s Shadow was as neatly dressed as ever, swinging a basket of fresh-baked goodies on one arm.

Some ways behind them, still out of sight, Esmund and Kirs walked slowly. They were talking intently to each other. After a moment, Ranvir detected no hostility and let them be, retrieving his senses.

“Mom!” Frija yelled, climbing over the trunk and running to Shiri, her hair a wild mess in contrast to Shiri’s tight control. Laila ignored them both, heading for the door, behind which Vasso was nervously pacing. “He won’t play with me. He promised!” Frija’s sheer desperation and despair cut through the air. Ranvir could practically taste the salt from her tears already.

Limping closer, he held a hand against his leg. Hissing through painful breaths, he inched his way over, playing up the part of a cripple.

Frija’s looks were aghast, and she shook her head. “He’s not hurt. Not at all! Don’t believe him!” she tugged on Shiri’s dress.

Shiri averted her eyes from Ranvir and shook her head, a lingering expression of bemusement still on it. “Oh, is that so? Then what is he doing?”

“I barely even kicked him!”

“You kicked him? Shouldn’t you apologize?”

“Nooo!” Frija cried, sitting down, actual tears in her eyes now.

Shiri crouched and stroked her cheek. “I don’t know what happened, but if you acted like this, it would be hard to play with you. When was the last time you had something to eat?”

Ranvir winced, turning and looking for Graywing. Shading his eyes, he peered through the canopy, well aware that the bird was perching on the roof, just out of sight.

“It’s like that, huh?” Shiri grunted as she hoisted Frija up. “You’re getting to be too heavy.” Behind the warm comfort of a mother, Ranvir detected raw pain. She’d not been holding Frija long enough for her to be ‘getting heavy.’

“Where’s your wings?” She asked casually as Ranvir drew close.

He hesitated, unsure where they’d left off. “They flew off.” he gave her a crooked smile.

“Oh yeah?” Shiri reached up and played with a lock of his hair. The proximity sent a shiver down his neck, echoed by lights of bright blue cheer and yellow nerves. “And your hair, I remember it being… thicker.”

“Is that good? Or bad?”

“We’ll figure it out.” She cupped his chin and pulled him forward. They kissed. Pulling away, they both noticed Frija watching avidly, eyes wide as she clasped Shiri’s shoulder.

“Let’s get inside,” Ranvir said. “You need something to eat and I think I have some explaining to do.”

Frija shook her head, but Ranvir plucked her from Shiri by the scruff of her collar and dumped her onto the back of Menace as it sauntered by. The big cat chuffed, but otherwise didn’t react even as she giggled and dug her fingers into its fur.

“Do you think she’ll be able to ride him when she gets bigger?”

Ranvir looked at the pair. “It shouldn’t. And I really don’t want to build a stable.”

Lunch passed in comfortable chatter, speaking about nothing for long minutes until Frija staggered off with Menace in tow. Pashar and Kyriake had already informed him about Sansir and Dovar, but Esmund and Kirs hammered the realization home.

Kasos, Amalia, and Elpir were all together at the orphanage, still. Amalia was really shook up about the experience and Kirs had her doubt on whether Amalia would ever fight again.

At some point, Ranvir would have to go to Vednar and pick up Ayvir and potentially Grevor. He might well prefer staying with his family for the moment.

Esmund and Kirs were ginger around everyone, it seemed. Ranvir had rarely seen Es so careful. Yet, there was a new light in their eyes. It felt like watching them walking as if on thin ice. He did not know how steady the ground under them was, but neither did they. Would it break or would it hold? All they knew was that there should be a safe foundation for them on the other side.

Ranvir wished them dear luck.

Evening fell and Ranvir retreated to the living room with a book in hand. Something about pirates or whatever. Vasso had just returned from his picnic with Laila. Emerging from the bath, his curls were dark and limp with water.

He paused, peering down the balcony into the living room. Ranvir sensed his hesitating as he turned another page. “What are you reading?”

“Ships and stuff, I think,” he revealed the cover before continuing.

“Hangman’s? You’re reading Hangman’s?” Vasso’s excitement was palpable. He dashed into his room. It took him a while to emerge, appearing with a book of his own, a later entry into the series. “It’s a little rough around the edges, but the series gets much better later on. Don’t let it discourage you.”

Ranvir chuckled and settled the book in his lap. “I won’t.”

They talked for a while. It was mostly Vasso talking about how good the book was, then adding a qualifier, before again reiterating the series’ quality. He finished with another attempt at tempering expectation. At that point, Ranvir wasn’t sure if the book was ever actually good or it had just tricked Vasso into enjoying it.

“There’s something I should probably mention,” Vasso said, his sudden seriousness jarring Ranvir from the page. He was holding up a blue stone that, until that moment, had been invisible to Ranvir’s senses. “A… guy showed up a day or two before you returned and gave this to me.”

A signature lingered on the object. At first, Ranvir thought it a rock, but realized suddenly that there was life within it. Growing and adjusting to Vasso. Stratos, he thought, brows furrowing.

“He came here to give this to you?”

Vasso nodded. “Though I think I’ve seen him before. When you fought Graywing. He gave Frija a red one.”

Ranvir hesitated, but sensed nothing untoward in the stone. It was not a spirit like Latresekt, but an actual animal. Sensing for it upstairs, he could suddenly feel the stone underneath Frija’s pillow as she lay listening to Shiri’s story.

“I’m not that interesting, huh?” he muttered to himself, reaching over and curling Vasso’s fingers around the stone. “Keep it close.”