I close my mouth, opting for silence as we hurry through the forest. I don’t want anyone to know where we are. I don’t want either of us to have to endure any more pain. We have suffered enough.
Cielo peers down at me, and my movements falter.
“What?” I whisper. “Do you hear something?”
He shakes his head and then says softly, “You slow.”
My mouth drops open, and I let out a quiet laugh. “My legs are half the size of yours.”
He trills and then reaches for me, pulling me into his arms. My legs wrap around his narrow waist, my arms curled around his strong shoulders, and then we’re moving much quicker. His movements are fluid and almost silent.
And then we’re bursting through a copse of trees and into a large field. In the distance, I see the small thatched huts from before and a small fire burning, but other than that, it is devoid of life.
“Where are your brothers?” I whisper.
He shakes his head, hunching down, carrying me through the tall grass to where the huts abut the boundary. It’s only then that he stops moving and stands up, a trill leaving his mouth.
Nothing echoes back.
Dread pulses deep within me, and I whisper softly, “Should we leave? Maybe they’re not here.”
“Not yet.” Then he’s moving again, skirting along the back of the huts, my eyes taking in everything I can. The low crooked roofs, each sagging under its weight. It smells like soil and smoke and—I inhale—something very much like Cielo.
He turns between two huts and through a door, the inside dim and damp. He twists around, his eyes fluttering.
“What is this place?” I ask, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. I can make out two beds on the ground, crooked shelves, and two rustic-looking pans.
“Home,” he breathes, walking toward the shelf and touching something on it. A flicker, a glow, and then the hut is illuminated in a dark blue light.
I blink at the stone he’s holding and reach out to touch it, but he pulls it away and sets it back on the shelf.
“Nooot safe,” he says, his hands tightening on me.
“Is this where you grew up?” I ask, and he nods, moving toward one of the beds on the ground, his foot touching it gingerly. His ears fold down slightly, and he sighs. “I’m sorry you had to leave,” I whisper.
“Ees okay,” he says, his voice filled with sadness and longing. “I haaave you.”
His eyes are bright when they find mine, and I can’t help but lean in and kiss him. It’s filled with love and need, our bodies twined tightly around each other’s as our tongues tangle.
A trill has us ripping apart, our eyes darting to the hut opening.
It’s there that I see two familiar figures, their limbs long, the bones in their chest and abdomen visible.
Now that I can see them without agony fogging my eyes, I take them in. The one on the left is taller, his hair shorter than most of the Vyastil I’ve met. It falls just below his shoulders andis vibrant pink. The other is shorter, and if he weren’t starving, he would be stocky. His skin is a slightly darker blue than Cielo's, and he has red and orange hair like a sunset, cascading all the way to the base of his tail, twisted into a four-strand braid.
They both stare at me with some measure of suspicion and don’t look away until Cielo speaks.
“Zynath. Alvayn,” he says, holding me closer.
They nod at me and then Cielo as he takes a step toward them, speaking quickly in Eretharian. I don’t interrupt. Now is not the time. I’m assuming these are his brothers. I can see the similarities that make me wonder if they were more than just hatched together. They could have come from the same biological parents.
Suddenly, Cielo’s words stop, and he waits, silence permeating the damp hut.
Then Zynath begins to speak, his voice lower than Cielo’s, but with the same rhythm. Alvayn inclines his head, and then, before I can process what’s going on or why they sound alarmed, Cielo picks me up off my feet and starts to race after his brothers, who have turned to run.
“Cielo,” I gasp, but his sharp shushing noise has me clamping my jaw together with a loud click. The urgency and fear in his voice are terrifying, so I keep quiet and cling to him as we go.
We rush through the tall grass of the field toward the trees, and as soon as the village is nothing more than a dot behind us, Cielo enters my mind. His voice is a soothing balm as he explains why we ran.
