Young Writers Society

Author's Notes: 1,521 words.  I actually like how this ends, for a change.

"What - what - what is the point of this!" demanded Ceinen, hoof planted on a box in the medical tent, trying to drum up anger that couldn't make it above his frown to his wide, teary eyes. "You let that - that - that - charlatan among us? That fake?"

"He does his work well," explained Madeleine, reaching up to grab a hoofed arm and pull it down. Ceinen relented in only a few seconds, sitting down on the box beside hers. "And it keeps him away from her."

"But, what if - what if! - he's poisoning them? How can you be so confident when - when - he is so unknown! Do you have another reason?" He poked her chest lightly with a hoof, and recoiled suddenly, looking at the offending hoof like it was a murder weapon.

Madeleine, unbothered by this gesture, leaned and stared into his frightened eyes. "I would know if he was doing any harm, because I watch over him constantly. It is the simplest option, and my only reason. He doesn’t know that, but it is the truth. Do you have another reason of your own to not like him?"

"N-n-nothing at all," replied Ceinen, shaking his head vigorously as his eyes darted away from her. His pupils dilated, he breathed more rapidly, and Madeleine felt a wave of sympathy fall over her. "There-there is nooo reason at all beyond who he i-is."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. He squirmed, but didn't try to push it off. "There's nothing personal about it," Madeleine said softly. "Don’t worry yourself."

Ceinen eased ever so slightly, though a stray hoof still tramped on the earth. "Do you - do you - do you l-love me?" he said all at once, loud enough to visibly surprise Madeleine. He saw and shrunk back, stammering incoherently and throwing out what may have been a vague apology. That he still had the ability to look at her, even if briefly, impressed Madeleine.

"...Y-yes," said Madeleine softly, watching his face, hoping that he didn't understand the pause. He immediately brightened.

"Really?" Ceinen smiled in his crooked way.

She rose, hesitating as she thought of what to say next. "You've always been good to me. Now, how about we walk; it's nearly sunset, and I'm tired of staying in here."

Ceinen nodded eagerly and stood up as well. Incapable of holding hands, they instead chose to walk side-by-side, exiting the mostly-empty hospital tent. Madeleine reasoned that her staff could keep an eye on the remaining patients for long enough to distract Ceinen from that feeling of bitterness that she suspected was still beneath his cheery expression. Ceinen trusted her, but she wondered if he would consider Yorew a threat, given Yorew's feelings for her (subtle as they were). The critical voice inside her head laughed at her, dropping salt into her eyes as it taunted her game. You're playing with a house of cards, it said.

It's going to fall apart, and you're too scared to get out from under it. Well done.

                                                                              ******

"Wake up! Please!"

Eremia was sitting on a suspended, oversized cabbage, staring down a pair of pale suns, when the words broke through her fragile dreamscape. One of the suns flickered - a wink? - as her surroundings darkened, and she found herself in the closed confines of the wagon. Wrapped in warm blankets, she wasn't eager to pull her head up, but somebody was nudging her less and less gently. "Who's it?" she mumbled as she placed hand on her forehead, feeling how sweaty it was. It had been an endless dream, eerie in the way that darkness had trickled through those suns, and voices had echoed just out of reach. She was happy to be free of it.

"Eremia, please, I-." Eremia could hear sniffling. As her eyes adjusted, she became increasingly aware of Katerina in her fox half-form, kneeling beside Eremia. Katerina covered her face in her hands (though her vulpine nose still stuck out) and sobbed.

"Something wrong?" said Eremia, voice cracking under a parched throat. She watched as Katerina stopped weeping, uncovered her face, and looked at her, eyes red and drooping.

"He - he used to put ribbons in my hair, you know," Katerina said, staring right through Eremia. "And they were always so blue, and they blew in the wind, and-"

Eremia fumbled in the darkness to try and get up. "Who?" she asked, though she felt she already knew the answer.

Katerina aged a decade in that moment; it appeared, in the way that she slumped, that she hadn't slept all night. "R-Row-"

"Rowland?" Disconcerted, Eremia reached for the lamp beside her bed. Katerina picked it up before Eremia could reach it, setting it towards the opposite end of the wagon.

"There's no point, I won't be here long. Nobody cares, nobody cares..."

"Nobody?" said Eremia, reaching up to embrace Katerina. She didn't know what else to do beyond give an unfamiliar form of affection.

Leaning on Eremia's shoulder, Katerina started to cry again, breaking her sentences into small fragments. "I went to everyone.  Terasu tried to set me on fire. Jonathan buried his head in his hands. Ceinen talked to me about the weather. Madeleine doesn't wake up easily. Alarick always has guards outside his tent, and he doesn't like night visitors. I'm sorry, you're the only person left, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Katerina's fur brushed up against the side of Eremia's face; it felt warm and itchy. Eremia didn't let go, because she couldn't stand to see Katerina this sad. "Would you - like to talk more about him?"

"I don't know," Katerina said, wiping a tear from her eyes before she continued to talk, shakily. "He was always so nice and, and, and, he would compliment me, and ride off everywhere and talk to everyone and do everything. I always wanted to be close to him like Jonathan and Terasu were, and make that blood oath -"

"Blood oath?" Eremia raised an eyebrow. It distracted her from the sadness that was pushing into her vocal chords.

Katerina laughed unsteadily. "I was told it was a few months after they met. They called themselves 'blue blood brothers' and swore to stay together. And one of them would mention it every now and then and I always felt so jealous because they were so happy about it, it was something of theirs, it was their little part of the world."

"I'm sorry," whispered Eremia.

"It's - fine," Katerina whispered back after a minute. "All of it is, really. I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother you, but nobody else would talk to me. And, and, I want to smile and make everyone happy, but nobody ever notices me. And sometimes I can't smile, I just can't, it's too hard - and it hurts that everyone has even more reason to ignore me, because they all hide when they're sad, that's what they do, and that’s probably what they expect me to do. I'm sorry, I know I'm saying too much, I know I'm freaking out, I know and I know and I know that I've already asked more of you than I should. But can you please stay up with me, just for a little bit? You don't have to say anything, we can just sit here and, and maybe look at the stars. Please?"

A few tears fell down Eremia's face. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before speaking. "You need someone, and I need someone, so yes, absolutely. I will stay with you the whole night if I have to, for your sake."

"Thank you, thank you!"

Eremia rued the day that Jonah dragged her out of the castle. If she had stopped him, he wouldn't have come here, he wouldn't have become that creature, and he wouldn’t have killed Rowland. She was disgusted in herself. Not at Jonah - something had always been wrong with him, and his transformation had just been the final nail in the coffin for the innocent boy she’d known. Not at Yorew, either - he only did what he was told, even if with a stupid stubbornness. It was only her fault; she hadn’t been strong enough, she hadn’t been smart enough, she hadn’t tried hard enough. Perhaps that was wrong, as those two had been more resourceful than she'd expected. However, what was the point in casting blame on anyone else if her inaction, however significant, had led to Katerina crying over her shoulder?

She hadn't felt that way before, but something about her weeping friend - and now Eremia found it hard not to think of Katerina as a friend, because Katerina was willing to share that level of feelings - flooded Eremia with guilt. A sword of self-loathing stabbed through Eremia, and so she spent her night sitting at the edge of the wagon, Katerina by her side. Eremia pulled back the hair from her eyes and peered at the moons, the clouds that passed among them, and the infinite stars.