I don’t even know what I am.
A rustle sounds in my peripheral, and I turn. Something large moves through the dark.
His name forms on my lips, but I don’t speak it, afraid it will scare him away.
Thrand ambles toward me, his massive body lit up by moonlight as he steps out of the tree cover. Despite his size, there’s a grace to him, his hooves barely disturbing the fallen leaves, antlers silhouetted by the sky’s glow.
Not even a breath escapes me as he approaches and stops only a few feet away from me. Finally, I whisper, “Hello, old friend.”
Thrand stares at me with those glistening black eyes. As always, I feel like he can see right through me.
To what?
I don’t know who I am anymore.
There’s nothing inside me.
Not even darkness. Just a gaping, empty hole that goes on and on and on.
Like the one Billy nearly fell into.
It’s not caused by grief, this hole. Maybe I remember it because of the grief, but it’s lived inside me for as long as I can remember. I’ve tried to fill it with research and obsession over the curse and finally with the Green Flame.
Take all that away and what am I?
Empty.
I close my eyes. It’s not fair of me to ask anything of him. But with my fingers trembling, I extend a hand.
Nothing greets my touch. But there was no reason to expect differently. I doubt my elk remembers me anymore after all the versions of me I’ve cycled through.
Then—there’s the press of coarse fur against my palm. I blink open my eyes.
Thrand nuzzles against my hand, then takes a lumbering step forward and bumps my shoulder.
A choked laugh escapes me. “Thrand…” I rub his head, then scratch the spot beside his ears that he loves. He licks my cheek with a rough, sandpapery tongue, then snorts.
“You don’t like the beard, eh?” I chuckle. “Fine. I’ll shave it.”
Sighing, I lean against him.So you remember me. Even with this emptiness.
My gaze drifts upward, over Thrand’s antlers and through the branches of the alder tree to the night sky beyond.
Maybe it’s not a hole inside me. Maybe it’s a cloudy sky. One I can explore. And eventually…blow the clouds away.
I’m not the person I was the last time I visited this alder tree. And I’ll be different the next time I visit too. I guess I get to choose who I am from here on out.
But the question is: Who do I want to be?
A leaf floats down in front of me, bright yellow, edges curling on the side.Who do you want me to be, Billy?
I know what he’d say. He’d look up at me, a sneaky grin on his face, and tell me with all the confidence of someone who lives fully in the moment, “Don’t ask me, dummy! How should I know?”
A breath escapes me. Great question.
Who will I be? A coward, a leader, a tyrant, a pacifist? A murderer, a savior? A beast, a ruler? A brother, a son?
I have been all these things. They make up the vast emptiness—no, the sky—that is me.
