66. Farron
Farron
Here again. Staring at the alder tree, wondering how I could have gotten so many things wrong.
The funeral attendees have moved into Keep Oakheart.
I’m alone in the grove. The surrounding trees, thick with orange and red leaves, bow in the breeze, filling the air with the smell of maple.
The moon casts a radiant glow over the alder tree, making it appear more of a statue than a living thing.
I swear I can see a face within the bark, watching me. Appraising.
I’m not sure what I’m doing here. My mother won’t suddenly emerge from the trunk, and neither will Billy. They’re gone from this realm forever, and I was the last one to hold their life threads.
It feels like such a burden and a blessing all at once.
I want to fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness. From whom? The tree?
Maybe I’ll fall to my knees and scream at the moon, howling with rage and sorrow instead. But that seems an insult to all those I’ve hurt. What good is my grief to them?
They’re gone. And I’m…
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.
Closing my eyes, I decide to look at it. This sky within me.
And it’s not so dark. In fact, some of the clouds are already starting to drift away. And all the facets of me start to twinkle. Stars making up the light map of my life.
They shine like the constellations of freckles across Billy’s face.
“You’re still protecting me, little brother,” I say. Then I wrap an arm around Thrand’s thick neck and walk with him toward the keep, where the warm glow of Autumn’s hearths calls me home.