Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 74
74
Ander knew that question would leave Hezzi's lips someday, and that he would have no choice but to answer it when it did. But why did it have to come now, when they were all standing on the brink? Why couldn't it have waited just a single day longer?
Because none of us might be alive to see the end of this storm. That's why.
Ander looked out over the undulating mass of Wolves, rows upon rows of them, slowly fading into the grey haze. There must be at least a thousand of them crammed between the walls of the mountain, waiting patiently for their general to give the order to attack, slavering at the thought of all the bloodshed that would surely follow.
Time. It always came down to time. There simply wasn't enough.
Then I need to make this clear. I need to be direct. And above all else...
I need to tell the truth.
Ander placed his hands on Hezzi's shoulders, and his little brother looked back at him with those silvery eyes, eyes that had seen so much in such a short time: pain and suffering, anger and hatred, sorrow and misery. They were so open, so vulnerable.
Ander had seen those eyes before. Long ago, in a different lifetime, those same eyes had stared into his soul through a crack in a wall exactly like the one they were standing on right now - eyes with a message all their own.
Don't leave me...
"Listen to me, Hezzi," Ander said, struggling to keep his voice even. "I am your brother. I have always been your brother, and I will always be your brother. Nothing in this world can ever change that."
Hezzi's eyes shifted to the she-wolf kneeling in the snow, seething with fury and crying at the same time. "But Mother isn't really your mother?"
Ander paused, not sure how to respond, but in the end, all he could do was tell the truth. "No. She's not."
Hezzi bit down on his bottom lip and his throat worked up and down. He could tell the kid was having a hard time. "Does that... Does that make it easier for you? You know, to..." Unable to find the right words, or perhaps too scared to utter them, he gestured at the ram's horn hanging around Ander's neck.
Ander touched it. It was heavy, much heavier than a hollow horn had any right to be, maybe because it held more than just empty air. It held the lives of thousands.
"No," Ander said, shaking his head. "It doesn't." Tears flowed down his cheeks, warm at first, then freezing cold, biting into his flesh.
*
Hezzi didn't care what Mother said. He didn't care where his big brother was born or how he came to be. What he cared about were the summer days they had spent by the river, trying to catch fish but only catching colds instead. What he cared about was the night Ander took him aside and taught him how to start a fire from scratch. What he cared about were the hours he had spent inside Ander's tent, looking over his shoulder while he carved something out of a chunk of wood and trying to guess what it might end up becoming, or sometimes just lying on the ground and staring up at the conical ceiling, listening to Ander thinking out loud about the most ridiculously fantastical things, things Hezzi had never even considered before. Stuff like what the stars might be made of, or how birds stay up in the air without falling, or how the seasons change, or why some things float while others sink, and a million other things that always made Hezzi feel like a great big stupid-head, but in a nice way.
Had any of those things changed? No. All the time they spent together, all the happy memories they shared were still there, exactly the same. Nothing had changed. He could see the proof right there, running down his brother's face.
If Ander could still cry for their mother, did that not mean they were still a family? Did that not mean they really were brothers, no matter what? If Ander could still have a connection with a she-wolf who was trying her very best to sever all bonds with him, then how could Hezzi have even the slightest shred of doubt when he loved his brother with all his heart?
Hezzi wrapped his arms around Ander's shoulders and hugged him tight. "I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question," he said, struggling to hold back the tears. It felt like all he's done since coming to this valley was cry.
"That's okay," Ander said and patted him on the back. "I missed your stupid questions."
Ander's embrace was warm and kind, but there was something between them, something cold and hard. It was the ram's horn, long and curved, an instrument that looked completely innocent, but held death within its hollow.
I can't let him do it, Hezzi thought as the wind howled through the pass. I can't let him murder our family.
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