Page 81 of Abdominal Snowman

He didn’t know what fueled the urgency in his blood. Was it just because of what Sage said? Or maybe it was reality settling in, or maybe he’d never even considered that Sage had a whole fucking life elsewhere. And maybe he wanted to know he wouldn’t be alone again when Sage inevitably left.

She’d shown him what he was missing out on. Not having any connections, companions, or family. He truly was isolated from the rest of the world, and it’d taken Sage coming here for him to remember what it was like otherwise.

Far too long, in his opinion.

Soren growled in triumph as he tugged a newer-looking envelope out of the pile. It was dated for this year.

With no patience to spare, Soren extended a claw and gently ripped open the seam.

It was a piece of lined notebook paper, folded perfectly to fit inside the plain envelope. Black ink was scrawled across the pages in his mother’s handwriting. The date was only the previous month.

Dropping his gaze, he scanned the page, his heart sinking with every word.

A mother’s guilt had no match.

“I only write the date for myself now. Mostly so if they start getting returned, I’ll at least have an idea of when you died. When to mourn.”

Soren lowered himself onto the work stool, finishing the letter.

It wasn’t all guilt. There were updates. Much of which he didn’t understand, not without the context of the previous letters. Soren finished the letter with a heavier heart than when he’d read it.

A glutton for punishment, Soren picked up another. Then another. And before he knew it, he was learning things about his parents, about where they were and who’d they’d met and how the clan had changed. As the pile of read letters grew, he pieced together part of a timeline.

And as he did so, tears welled in his eyes. He wiped them away angrily, but couldn’t fight the overwhelming relief he felt as he learned they were… okay.

A group of rebels had grown from within the clan, taken it over from the inside out, and gotten rid of the infighting. Ever since the rebel leader had been in charge, the clan had made strides to catch up with modern society, learning to hide themselves better than ever.

Soren switched from newer letters to older ones to learn this, figuring that starting from the beginning was allowed now that he knew they were okay.

When they’d arrived, it’d been a totally different clan than they remembered, than the one they’d told him stories about. They’d treated her back to health and offered them a safe place to stay with their own kind, if they wanted it.

But they’d also left the doors right open. They could have left at any time, and they did, but not before changing their minds and returning. Open arms welcomed them, and they hadn’t left.

“We were too suspicious to tell them about our son. You. But if you’d like to join us, you know where we are. However, the mountains are the only home you’ve ever known. We understand if you wish to stay there. Just let us know you’re safe.”

Soren dropped his head and let the letter droop between his knees. The stool hadn’t remained comfortable, so he’d taken his research to the floor, where he now sat surrounded by letters.

His parents were okay. Better than okay. They were healthy and happy and safe.

The relief in his chest was overwhelming, and he had to steady his breath, swallow against the emotion clogging his throat.

Out of nowhere, a harsh laugh burst out of him. “Fuck you, Tobin Santorin.”

That bastard had harassed his parents until they’d had no choice but to leave. Yet now they were doing even better.

Tobin didn’t win.

Soren sucked in a deep breath for what felt like the first time. That realization was heady. Soren had been so frightened of… of a human boogeyman in a gross suit. It was Tobin’s fault his parents had left.

But it wasn’t his fault that they’d chosen to stay.

Tobin hadn’t won.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and pulled the same letter closer, an errant tear slipping down the line of his nose at the elegant script of his mother’s.

I hope this letter finds you well and whole. We miss you and love you, please remember that. You deserve all of the happiness in the world.

He grumbled as he smoothed a thumb over the black ink. Did he though? Deserve happiness?