Sue’s eyes went wide as she processed Sundance’s revelation, the tense silence soon culminating in a whispered, anxious question. “Do you mean... l-like me?”
Sundance was visibly taken aback at the idea, shaking her head once she’d figured out what her pupil meant. “No, not in the same way as you, Sue. She hails from this world, from a clan far away from here.”
A part of Sue was glad that nobody else had been subjected to what she had been through, but… there remained that nagging thought that maybe if they had, they would’ve had a better idea of how to get back home. Or at least would be able to empathize more with her circumstances… oh well.
Pushing through conflicting emotions, she acknowledged the vixen’s response. Her disappointment could wait, she wanted—no, needed to get to the bottom of all this. “I see. H-how far away?”
“Approximately a week’s march in a straight line from her recollection—you won’t see her ever making that trek to confirm her memories, though.”
Definitely not how I would’ve expected Solstice to act…
“Is it because of shomething they did?” Sue asked, fidgeting.
“Worse,” Sundance paused, a weak shudder going through her body. “Because of what they are.” She took a deep sigh and an even deeper hit of her pipe as she leaned back in her chair, sorting through her thoughts once more. The Forest Guardian could sense flashes of anger bubbling from deep within her mind, briefly manifesting through shaking, clenched paws.
The vixen’s composure strained, but ultimately held as she wove her tale. “Her clan had a much similar ambition to that of Willow—on its surface, at least. ‘Bring healing to those who need it, and honor the Pale Lady through their deeds.’ Noble on its surface, but with a crucial difference—they didn’t think themselves mere worshipers of the Night Mother, they thought themselves Her emissaries. The closest thing to Her incarnation in flesh, and as such, it meant that their will was divinely guided, too.”
Guess that’s where that bee got the idea from.
“Her clan might not be expansionist, but aspects of its rotten ideology had spread far, all the way to here and further beyond. No doubt aided by the fact that, as opposed to Willow’s kin, Forest Guardians are far, far from defenseless—even if both you and Solstice are terrible examples of that.”
Part of Sue felt like she ought to be offended at that, but wasn’t sure how or why, shaking the thought off soon after. Uncomfortable as it was to consider, Sundance was right. Telekinesis strong enough to lift whole people off the ground, the ability to tamper with minds, reading thoughts; all those were scarily powerful, and they weren’t even the flashy kind of feats she saw at the feast. Hell, she herself had painfully hurt the bee villager despite her weakness and inexperience, and it was completely accidental! Who knew how harmful a deliberate attack of that sort would’ve been by someone who knew what they were doing.
How lethal.
In truth, Sue didn’t want to know, an icy dread running down her spine at the awareness of how much capability to harm others further training would give her. To maim, even kill, with just her thoughts. And to imagine that kind of power in the hands of a clan that thought itself divinely guided… If there was anything Sue remembered well from her history lessons, it was that a ‘divine’ guidance at the lead of a powerful group only ever ended in tragedy—if not genocide.
“Of course,” Sundance chuckled bitterly, “they believe themselves to be kind rulers. They offer their healing arts to those who come. As long as they pledge their worship of the Pale Lady, make an... ‘offering’, and aren’t the ‘wrong’ kind of creature, of course. The kind whose compliance they can’t enforce because of an immunity to their psychics.”
Just like Pollux…
“Th-the night kin...” Sue whispered, the rotten puzzle beginning to come together.
“Correct. Contrary to what their immunity to psychics might imply, Forest Guardians are hardly defenseless against them—Moon’s pale light drives away the darkness just as well as the Sun’s. Their thoughts and minds would forever remain off limits to prying eyes, however, and there’s nothing Solstice’s clan and their ilk despise more than someone they can’t control.” Sundance paused to steady her breathing, keeping her anger at bay through sheer willpower. “They cast the night kin aside and declared them profane, and their deity evil incarnate. And if anyone ever extended their hospitality towards them… consequences were in order.”
Sue shook as she processed the revelation, thinking back to what she’d seen around the village. Willow’s panicked reaction to her so much as bringing the night kin up, Spark lying about meeting one of them through her teeth, the engravings at the Pale Lady’s altar… “And those beliefs really reached as far as here?”
Sundance nodded deeply, hanging her head and closing her eyes. “Ideas can spread like wildfire, especially when they appeal to our worst, basest impulses. It would be both foolish and wrong to attribute all the hatred towards the night kin to Solstice’s clan alone. The fear of those different, of the night, of defenselessness—all those were already there, a fertile ground for bigotry to grow on…” she trailed off, sighing in defeat. “All one needs to do to control those controlled by these fears is give them enemies to hate and rally against. I’ve seen it time and again, not just with the night kin, and it is just as terrifyingly effective each time.”
Definitely seen that one with quite a few politicians and priests.
“Wh-what about Solstice, then?” Sue asked.
Sundance gathered her thoughts, giving her pupil a moment to collect herself. Sue’s shaking hand thanked whoever was watching for the cup of her host’s brew having long been emptied, lest she spilled it all over herself as the vixen continued. “She got to witness the injustice her clan had caused, and it was enough to make her doubt it all. Her father isn’t a Forest Guardian. His kin is similarly psychic, even if he looks different, but regardless of how little his otherness mattered, not being a Forest Guardian meant he was still inherently lesser. And so was Solstice, on account of her blood being ‘impure’.”
The vixen briefly paused, anger at her friend having been treated how she was warming the air around her as her expression twisted into an intense, but brief snarl. “That planted the seeds of her doubt, and hearing about Night Mother and Night Father not having always been enemies from a passing mystic made them bloom. Every time someone was harassed or denied help because of being ‘lesser’ cemented her resolve even further. To get out of there, and to do what she could to make things right. And once she’d evolved and received her blessings... she did.”
Sue couldn’t help but imagine a younger Solstice sneaking away in the middle of the night, disappearing without leaving as much as a goodbye note in her wake. She grew more and more invested in the story being told, hunching forward as she nodded for Sundance to continue.
“She arrived in Moonview a few years before I settled here for good. Her kin gathered her no small amount of reverence, one she always tried to squash. Her knowledge of healing arts earned respect, even from Willow’s kin, and they exchanged many lessons over the years. Ultimately, she was much the same person you know—it’s little wonder that she was liked and eventually joined the Elders’ council. Once there, she did her best to undo the influence of her clan, however she could.”
Now that’s the Solstice I know.
Sundance’s tale lit up an ember of second-hand joy inside Sue, if an uneven and flickering one. She might not have known when the story would take a turn for the worse, but she knew it would eventually, trepidation coiling around her mind. “Was she successful?”
“To an extent, yes,” the vixen nodded. “Widespread as her clan’s influence was, Solstice undid enough of it to open the gates for the night kin to live here. They weren’t explicitly forbidden from settling here before, but they would not have been welcome, either. She changed that, pushed back against them being seen as evil or as Pale Lady’s enemies, and used the influence her kinship gave her for good. And, in time, the night kin indeed settled here.”
The night kin… used to live in Moonview?
“Hard to imagine th-that nowadays...” Sue whispered.
“Indeed,” Sundance responded, cold and regretful. She closed her eyes, furrowing her brows as she muttered the rest of the tale. “The beginnings were rough, but familiarity and exposure are the anathema to prejudice. As the relations warmed up, the Pale Lady’s shrine was expanded with a wall depicting the Night Father, leaving them standing side by side. It was controversial even then, but most didn’t care enough to be opposed, especially with Solstice blessing the change. Those that did, rallied around Root, the spiritual leader of Moonview until Solstice’s arrival.”
Having to utter Root’s name had the fox grasp her chair’s armrest, claws scraping at the well-worn wood. “He was the strongest opposition to the inclusion of the Night Father in their altar, as well as to the night kin’s inhabitation. As much as he whined, he accomplished little, not with Solstice’s popularity. Despite his complaints, we kept growing, people of all kin kept coming. It really seemed like Solstice’s dream had come true, that she’d defeated her clan’s vicious teachings. She eventually married one of the night kin, and had a child with him.”
One particular name crept back into Sue’s name, as did an icy chill of dread and the implication. “Aurora...”
“Indeed.” Sundance fought hard to keep too many memories from forcing their way from under her eyelids, their sweetness harrowing in hindsight. “She was a wonderful kid. So bright, so curious; she wanted to do everything, learn all there was to be known, meet everyone—the entire world felt much too small for her, at times. Her psychics unfortunately came as a great struggle at the best of times. Solstice confided in me that had Aurora hatched back at her clan, she wasn’t sure what they would do with her, whether they would’ve even let her live with her weakness.”
Was...
The sinking pit that had been forming inside Sue had grown tenfold at hearing that word. She couldn’t resist asking the question at the root of it all anymore, her voice little more than a hoarse, wavering whisper. “What happened to her?”
Sundance shuddered again at her words. It wasn’t in anger this time, however—it was in fear. Old fear, fear thought long buried, building up inside the vixen by the moment, ending up only barely contained as Sundance answered, her voice similarly pitiful.
“The plague.”
The words grasped Sue’s mind with terror, flooded it with all the terrifying interpretations of that singular word. And yet, she still wanted to know, and the mystic could tell, pushing through her pain to tell the rest of the tale. Her pupil deserved to know, even if Sundance wanted nothing more than to be able to forget it all.
“It came without warning, its source unknown. It ravaged through the village, scarring our bodies and minds alike, stealing our breath and leaving burning pain behind. We tried everything we had to cure it, but all we managed was alleviating some symptoms, leaving us to pray it would subside on its own. It was arduous, but rarely lethal, at least for adults. The little ones...”
Even the briefest recollections of that hell brought more anguish than Sundance was equipped to handle, even so many years later. The pain, the cries, the death; her pipe dropped onto her lap as she reached up to forcibly Calm her Mind, wanting to scream as a part of her relived it all.
Not a day passed where she didn’t thank the Sun for Spark not having hatched yet when it all happened.
All the while, Sue could only listen, mind tying itself into knots as tears flowed down her cheek and heart threatened to shatter into a thousand pieces.
“Everyone lost someone, be it family or friends. Solstice...” the vixen trailed off. Despite having subdued her mind, it still thrashed at the mere thought of her friend during that time, the sheer torment she must’ve felt, both her own and everyone else’s. It was too terrible to comprehend—and yet, she had experienced it all the same. “She stayed by Aurora’s side as she died, alone. I-I was too sickly to leave my dwelling, and her husband, Jasper... He is a kind, sensitive soul, and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t bear to witness it himself, especially after it was clear his daughter would die, forcing Solstice to endure it all alone.”
Sue remembered how protective she felt towards Spark and Pollux when they were being chased, how she put her whole life at stake to save them. To imagine the torment of holding her own child, wanting nothing more than to protect her from the sickness ravaging her, and being completely powerless to help, with nobody there for her...
She could only weep.
For everyone who had to experience that, for everyone who had lost someone, for all the souls lost. She had no idea how long it took her to begin wrangling herself together. Even as she did, though, terror gripped her once more—for Sundance wasn’t done yet. “There was... one more thing. One twist of fate, that would’ve been a cause for joy in any other world. Not in this one. Not back then.”
Oh no.
“Not all types were affected by it equally. Few Fire-types got seriously sick, almost all Psychics did, but the night kin… were immune.”
The vixen paused to let the fact settle, as straightforward as its repercussions were harrowing. Sue grew more and more disturbed as she tried to imagine how the people who had already distrusted them had reacted to that fact—how much blood was senselessly spilled as a result. “Were they… k-killed?”
“Thankfully not, ‘merely’ ran out of Moonview. The grip of paranoia was inescapable—even those I trusted to know better were briefly swayed, even I felt its tendrils wrapping around my mind in the aftermath of it all. Ultimately, it culminated in a vote being held on whether to exile the night kin for good.”
Sue might’ve been held firmly by despair, but a different emotion soon crept into her mentor’s mind. Anger at her fellows for being so easily swayed by panic, seething fury towards those who had manipulated them. The air grew uncomfortably hot for a moment before Sundance reasserted her grip on herself and continued. “After Aurora’s passing... Jasper was paralyzed with shame. Shame at abandoning his wife and daughter when they needed him the most. It fed into itself with each passing day, leaving him unable to come back and face his wife after what had happened. Solstice was left even more alone, her entire self shattered and with nobody around to comfort her. Nobody… but Root.”
No… no no no no no—
“She was at her absolute lowest, with no reprieve in sight. Utterly consumed by loss and agony, willing to do anything to get any relief from the hell of it all. When the time came, her vote was the deciding one. Between Root’s influence, pain at her own husband for abandoning her when she needed him the most, and a moment of vicious weakness, she voted for exile. The champion of the night kin’s cause, the one who had opened the village’s gates for them, had now closed them once more.”
The hut was dead silent as the vixen took a deep breath, fighting to maintain composure. “The night kin felt, and were, betrayed. They didn’t fight the verdict—perhaps some of them expected, deep down, that it would never work out in the end. Jasper... took it the worst, blamed it all on himself. I remember him pleading with me, begging to do anything to help, but I had no power there, not anymore. I stepped down from the Elders’ council afterwards. And Solstice... felt betrayed too, by herself.”
Shakily, Sundance picked her pipe up again. She steeled herself before taking a deeper hit, her body language withdrawing further. “It didn’t take long for everyone else to realize what they had done. Their neighbors, their friends... gone, driven out. Some tried to rationalize it afterwards, delude themselves into truly believing that it was the night kin that had brought in the plague—anything to avoid facing the responsibility for their actions and the guilt they carried. Guilt and shame.”
So that’s why she felt so shameful…
“Shame, such a caustic and destructive force. It locks one into a cycle of misery, unable to right their wrongs and escape it. Ask almost anyone who’d voted towards exile on that fateful day, drill them past their inevitable excuses, and they’ll break down and admit that they’ve made a mistake—a mistake none of them will do anything to mend, because of how much even thinking of doing that hurts.” Sundance paused, taking a moment to cool off as she glared at the floor between herself and her pupil, closing her eyes soon after. “I kept trying to bring it up to Solstice every so often, but all that accomplished was making her break down and relive it all, her every loss and mistake, again and again. And so… I stopped.”
Sue waited for the vixen to continue for what felt like hours. After all the loss and grief, the story ended there, at last. “Th-that’s all... I don’t have words.”
“There aren’t any,” Sundance whispered, staring into the middle distance.
Her pupil shuddered, terrified about there being yet more death to come. “Wh-what happened to the night kin?”
“They established their own settlement, Newmoon, not far from here. Everyone knows about it, and we aren’t forbidden there, but… almost nobody wants to see the consequences of their actions. I come to visit sometimes. It’s a quiet place, rather barren and tiny, but lovely in its own way. They try to make do.”
“A-almost?” Sue asked, confused at the wording.
Sundance nodded. “I know Snowdrop is seeing someone from there. I don’t know why she’s looking for another partner here, too, but it’s not our place to judge. Solstice and Jasper… meet up too, sometimes. They never talk much. Those are hardly a secret—people find out fast. Everyone knows that nobody cares about the exile and the terrible things being ascribed to the night kin anymore—and yet, here we are.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Closing in on five years now. Spark was still in her egg when it happened, thank the Sun,” Sundance whimpered, once more forced to grip her armrests as the terrifying what-if filled her mind.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
I need to ask about that ‘egg’ sometime.
“Spark’s friend, Pollux... he’s from that Newmoon village, right?”
“Indeed,” Sundance nodded, snapping herself out of her mind’s torture session. “I know he visits sometimes—as well as he can hide, it’s still easy to spot him. The divide between our villages is such an arbitrary one in the end, a line in the sand that the little ones won’t and oughtn’t pay any attention to. Sometimes it feels like it’ll take that new generation to finally mend that wound…”
“Guess that’s why they were outshide Moonview when that shpider found them...” Sue muttered under her breath—and immediately regretted it.
The mention of the events of her first day here immediately startled Sundance, her calm demeanor suddenly coming undone as she asked urgently, leaning forward in her seat, “Wh-what do you mean?”
The abruptness of her mentor’s reaction took Sue aback, her stammer intensifying as she retold what she’d seen. “Spark and P-Pollux were together when they ran into me and I-I distracted the spider...”
Sundance was aghast at hearing the news. Sue worried she’d said something she really shouldn’t have, sitting fearfully in place as she felt the vixen’s worry grow, grow and turn into anger. Not at Sue, not at anyone else, only at herself, though no less intense than her silent fury from earlier because of that. Deeper breaths sent a dusting of sparks out through her nose and ear as she simmered in her anger—her fury might’ve been aimed inward, but that didn’t make it any less vicious.
“I-I should’ve realized. A-a part of me hoped it was something else, some other freak accident. But… I was just fooling myself, wasn’t I. As much as I think myself above that, I keep doing that, clinging to whatever remote possibility lets me rest the easiest, just to not have to face the facts...” the vixen trailed off, fighting an internal battle. Eventually, however, she had to admit the truth to herself. “No, this can’t continue! I let it go on for too long, it—it has to stop! I can’t risk Spark getting in danger like that again, I...”
Sundance grew quiet as her anger burned up into grief and regret, at having failed to make the world safer for her little one, entirely through her own inaction.
Before her, Sue wondered what to even do in the face of all the misery, feeling powerless to help—and then; an idea came to her. A terrible, foolish idea, but one she had to at least try. She wouldn’t be able to mend the wound between these two peoples, no.
But I can at least try to comfort one hurt person.
“Perhaps I am truly no better,” Sundance continued through gritted teeth. “Much as I keep holding it all against Solstice, it had to be my flesh and blood for me to act towards resolving this injustice. Maybe I should’ve kept pressing her harder all along. Maybe I should’ve not even cared about what she’d do and acted on my own. Maybe if I had just pushed through the pain on that fateful day, pushed to her tent to be there for her, the suffering of so many more would’ve been averted…” she paused, a few stray tears forcing their way past her eyelids. And then, she admitted with a wavering, resigned voice, “I wish I had half the answers I give the impression of having.”
Sue had no idea what advice she could feasibly give to someone who had lived through hell after hearing an abridged version of the events. Instead, she offered understanding, sinking into an uncertain expression and trying to bounce back some of Sundance’s own insight from earlier. “Th-that’s undershtandable. Even if you’ve made a mistake by letting it fester, it doesn’t mean you have to let it continue.”
The vixen’s expression briefly twisted as she faced her own partial responsibility in all of this. The resulting mental struggle was as intense as it was brief, her eyes opening with a grunt. “You—you’re right. Thank you, Sue. I’ll need to think about what to do after all this time. It will be messy, but... I owe it to Spark. I owe it to Solstice, I owe it to you, I owe it to everyone. Something has to be done.”
Sundance’s newfound determination spread over to her pupil, adding fuel to her recently hatched plan. Sue spoke, “G-good luck. I’ll—I’ll leave you to it, but first, I have to know. Where is Solstice?”
The vixen shook her head, eyes going wide. “Don’t worry, Sue, I’ll handle talking with her. You shouldn’t put this burden on yourself—”
“Th-this isn’t what I want t-to talk to her about,” Sue responded, her words pointed and steadfast, unlike her.
The mystic thought about it all briefly before slowly nodding. “I see. I can’t read her mind from here, but... if I know her at all, she’ll be at the cemetery, praying.”
“Th-the cemetery? Where’s—”
Wait, the clearing I ran into Solstice on. The decorated rocks, the quietness, the distance from Moonview—that must be it.
It was a fair march away, but Sue felt readier than ever to take it on. The approximately nine espresso’s worth of caffeine circulating in her system helped, too.
“Seems you’ve figured it out,” Sundance spoke with the world’s weakest chuckle. “I won’t hold you back, unless you want me to escort you over.”
Sue’s arms trembled as she pushed herself through her strain and onto her legs. “No, no, I’ll be fine. I-I can do this.” She was tired and hurt, but the burning drive inside her made her overlook all of it, staggered steps quickly evening out.
“May the Sun hasten you, Sue. But remember, it’s not your fault. You aren’t responsible for any of this.”
Sundance’s remark made the once-human pause as her hand rested on the door handle. She took a couple of deep breaths before responding, “I know,” and speeding on, leaving the vixen to mull through her plan on her own.
A mixture of a sense of duty and an absurd amount of caffeine combined into a hyperfocus that had Sue hobble faster than she had ever walked anywhere. Her body hurt; she made for a dumbfounding spectacle with her waddling, but she didn’t care. Most villagers may have already gotten used to the second, much younger Forest Guardian in their midst, but watching her sprint with a crutch was something else entirely.
The emotional rollercoaster she’d just been through made the sensation of focus being placed upon her into something unpleasant—nerve-wracking even. It may have fed further into Sue’s anxieties about becoming the center of attention, but she wouldn’t let it stop her—not here, not now.
In just a couple of days, Moonview had turned from a location out of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ to a town mundane enough for her to have a rudimentary, subconscious map of. The surrounding landmarks steered her towards the clearing, her focus squarely on her destination as she passed by Willow’s clinic.
A cry calling from behind her snatched Sue’s attention, and she only barely braked in time to look over her shoulder at its source. Willow’s confounded expression hid immense worry as they waved at her—but they weren’t alone. A couple of other beings stood beside them, including the bedsheet-covered stranger she’d ran into earlier, a black, short tentacle waving at her from under their disguise.
The other one was mostly white and looked kinda like a cat, and that’s all the attention Sue would spare them, shaking her head at the group before leaving with a response only she understood—“Later!”
They deserved further explanation, but between her sense of duty and running on borrowed time granted to her by Sundance’s drink, Sue knew she couldn’t stop. The medic’s worry only grew further at watching her shamble away with a single word response, but they knew full well they weren’t gonna be able to persuade her to stop. Or even catch up to her, for that matter.
Before Sue knew it, she was back at the clearing, gunning towards the path to the cemetery. Poppy’s nearby call went unacknowledged, the once-human’s tunnel vision narrowing further the closer she got to her destination.
After having grown too used to sensing dozens of minds surrounding her at all times, the near complete mental silence Sue felt in the middle of that well-worn path was unnerving. As loud as Moonview was to her sixth sense, she was never alone in there, and help was all around her should anything happen.
If I collapse here, it could be hours, days before someone realizes…
And to think I tried to run away from that safety only yesterday.
Sure, the only other possibility Sue could imagine at the time was death, but hindsight sure didn’t paint her thought process in a good light. Not one bit. Thankfully, her worries about missing the person she was looking for were dispelled before they could build up any further, a distant sensation of sorrow growing closer with every step. It was far from pleasant, even if nowhere near as overwhelming as it had been immediately after her breakdown.
It only made the younger Forest Guardian push herself even harder.
The memory of her first encounter with Solstice, likely when she was praying to Aurora no less, was one that would remain burned into Sue’s mind forever. Her poise, her calmness, dignified and imposing—so utterly unlike her current state. She was slumped to the side, looking less like she sat down before the silvery sapling and more so like she’d collapsed there and hadn’t moved afterwards, hands clasped together and shaking. And then, she froze, sensing her student’s arrival.
Solstice’s panicked glance over her shoulder was no less miserable than the last time Sue saw her. Sue felt her sadness spoiling into shame as she reeled away from the cemetery’s entrance, her voice pathetically quiet. “I-I’m sorry Sue, I-I—”
“Sundance told me everything.”
The older Forest Guardian froze upon hearing that, staring Sue down as the latter slumped forward and caught her breath, body screaming in soreness as she made it through the last few steps separating her from the nearest bench. “E-everything?” Solstice asked, terrified.
“About Aurora. About the night kin. About... your clan,” Sue explained, each of these revelations making the Mayor wince visibly as she tried to retain the little composure she had left. And then, the final addition broke the dam, at last: “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Solstice curled forward as if struck, breaking into full-blown weeping, tears glistening in the afternoon light as she grieved for her daughter once more.
Nothing I can do but be here for her.
Minute by minute, Solstice’s outburst of despair slowly faded. Wails gave way to sobs, then whimpers, and finally, silence. Eventually, the older Forest Guardian found enough strength to pick herself back up onto her legs and shamble towards her pupil, even if she felt too ashamed to look her in the eyes. Sue wasted no time before wrapping her arms around her mentor and pulling her into a tight embrace the moment she sat down. Solstice’s tears grew even more bitter at her student’s compassion, the comfort as nourishing as it felt unearned.
Eventually, only a heavy, lingering silence remained. Sue’s green hand gently stroked her mentor’s side as they both sat at a loss for words, for what felt like forever. Until, at last, the older Forest Guardian whispered, “I... I th-thought I had gotten over it.”
Sue nodded, her one-armed embrace shuddering. “I-I don’t think th-that’s something you ever really, fully get over.”
Solstice didn’t respond immediately, head hunching forward as she tried to keep her breathing stable. Eventually came a quiet whimper—“You think?”
I know.
“Yeah,” Sue answered, her whisper only barely audible.
“I-it was going so well...” Solstice pleaded with Fate, “i-it felt like I had made my peace with it all. Like I have finally moved on—”
“And then I showed up?”
Solstice was startled at Sue’s question; her words caught in her throat. Her gaze trailed off into the middle distance before she clenched her eyes shut, a few more bitter tears flowing down her cheeks. Sue’s embrace never wavered, nor did the comfort she tried to provide. An attempt at stroking the older Forest Guardian’s head sent a light jolt through them both, the Mayor eventually accepting the affection. “She... she would’ve been your age.”
The bitterly admitted truth made Sue freeze, lost for words. There weren’t any, there couldn’t be any. Eventually, she just acknowledged the fact with a slow nod, her embrace growing shakier.
“It’s not your fault, Sue—” Solstice insisted.
Sue cut her off—“I know.”
The Mayor shakily nodded, admitting soon after, “I-I just… don’t know why it hit me there as hard as it did.”
“A false subconscious hope deep inside, maybe. M-maybe you never really finished grieving for her.”
“I thought I have. Though... maybe not. Not too long after, I-I had to pick myself together and... keep going. Despite my loss, despite everyone else’s loss, despite—” Solstice doubled over as she felt shame stab her in the guts. Sue winced by proximity, doing what she could to hold the distraught mother closer even as her past sins weighed heavily on her.
Whether deservedly or not was not for Sue to decide—all she knew was that right now, her mentor needed the reassurance more than anything else. “Shounds like you didn’t really have that time then,” She whispered.
“Maybe not,” Solstice shuddered as she took in a deeper breath, her pupil holding her all the while. “I don’t know if I could, even. After all—”
“—the world doesn’t wait for us.”
The older Forest Guardian let out a quiet gasp as she looked over at Sue, her gaze focused on the memorial treeling. Her expression remained stoic even as a handful of stray tears began wetting her cheeks again, culminating with more whispered words. “Even if it feels like we’ve lost a part of ourselves, like we’ll never be whole again... we have to keep moving on, pretending we’re fine. Faking it until it stops hurting all the time, hoping we’ll get over it, get over ourselves, because nobody will wait for us.”
Sue’s body wavered, her own pain finally breaking through her facade as she thought back, way back. Solstice followed along with her train of thought, all the way back to its only possible destination—
And watched as her pupil relived it all.
----------------------------------------
“♪Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone~♪”
A gentle campfire lit the clearing up as it chewed through what remained of its fuel. The pile of dry wood gathered beforehand had become little more than a handful of assorted twigs by now, though nobody really minded—especially with the pack of marshmallows they had brought with themselves having long since been emptied.
Despite the creeping clouds covering most of the sky, the Moon itself and a small swatch near it remained clear. It’d be a few more days until the celestial body would be at its brightest, but it was breathtaking all the same—especially with the family being able to witness it away from the town for once.
“♪Only darkness every day~♪”
Neither the three voices nor the gentle guitar twangs were even close to being on key, the instrument especially in dire need of getting tuned. Once more, the trio didn’t care, singing on as they wrapped up a fun, eventful day.
The youngest member of the impromptu band enjoyed herself in particular, putting everything she could into the song being sung, despite her tiredness. She rocked to the sides as she over-enunciated every note, pigtails waving and legs swinging under the bench with every word.
“♪Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone~♪”
To her right sat the person playing the guitar, a woman with a similar face and a joyous expression. Her shoulder-length hair slid around as she bounced to the tune along with her daughter, without a care in the world. The man on the next bench over completed the trio, his scruffy and unshaven look giving off a casual, welcoming vibe, helped further by a slightly oversized tie-dyed shirt.
“♪And this house just ain’t no home~♪”
The long pointy sticks they had used to roast marshmallows lied off to the side, as did a handful of toys they had taken along for the trip. A partially mud caked frisbee, a slightly less dirty beach ball, an action figure of a main character from a popular cartoon, one that little Sue always brought with herself whenever she went outside, but which she never had quite enough spare time to actually play with.
“♪Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.”
And with a final chord, the song ended.
“Can we do another one!?” Sue squealed excitedly.
Her parents smiled widely as they glanced at each other, and then at the fire. “I don’t know Sue, can we?” Dad asked, tongue in cheek.
“Pleeeeeeaase!”
Her pleading tone of voice made Mom finally cave in with a louder giggle. She reached over to ruffle her daughter’s hair, the laughter soon spreading to her little one. “Well, I think we could squeeze one more in. So, what will it be?”
Dad chimed in, “We should be the ones asking you that, Mrs. Gold Award Scout~.”
Mom couldn’t resist rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at her husband—only for him to return the gesture right away, sending their daughter into a giggling fit even without knowing the full context. Once she had gotten over her own laughter, though, Sue wasted no time before finally proposing something—“The houshe of the rising sun!”
“Again~?” Mom asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah!”
“Alrighty, we can go through that one again~! Just lemme remember how that one starts—*eek!*” Mom suddenly jumped in her seat. Before Sue or Dad could figure out what had happened, they felt the first raindrops hit them too, the girl shivering in response. “Welp, seems the rain had other plans! High time to get back home, eh?”
“Sue, grab your toys and start heading over to the car. We’ll get there in a mo’,” Dad instructed.
“Okay!”
Even though she was a bit disappointed by the song plans getting interrupted, Sue knew that there was no point in arguing with the rain, especially with it being nice and warm enough to feel more ticklish than freezing—when it wasn’t making its way past her collar, at least.
The six-year-old resorted to holding the frisbee as a makeshift umbrella next to her parents’ car as she watched them clean the clearing up. With one last look around to make sure they had left no trash behind, they finally started heading over as well; a couple of lights blinked on the vehicle’s sides as it was unlocked. Sue scrambled to the trunk and popped it open the moment she saw the telltale flashes. She put all her toys back in, but didn’t have the reach to actually grab the lid again—not for a lack of trying, that’s for sure.
“Get in the car Sue, we’ll take care of the trunk,” Dad reassured.
“Okay!”
Even the brief exposure to the increasingly icy rain left the girl shivering as she climbed back inside the car. The dim lightbulbs provided just enough light for her to maneuver herself back onto the booster seat and click her seatbelt into place. Her parents followed a few moments later, Mom giggling, “Not a moment too late! The sky really just broke down on us there.”
“Ride back home’s gonna be fun,” Dad grumbled.
“Just take it slow Nick, no need to rush anything, especially not in this weather.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Seatbelt on, Sue?” Mom asked, looking over her shoulder from the passenger seat. The sight of her little Sue always brought a smile to her face without fail, no matter the context.
“Yeah!” the tyke squealed.
“Awesome!” Mom beamed. “Let’s get outta here. How’s hot cocoa sound after we’re back home?”
“Can we have marshmallows too?” Sue pleaded.
“Well, we kinda ate them all here, buuuut we could make popcorn instead!”
“Yes! Thank you, mommy!”
Another hair ruffle sent Sue giggling again as the lights inside the car dimmed. The steady rattle of rain grew louder as Dad pulled out of the increasingly muddy parking lot and back onto the rural road, thanking whoever was listening for the relatively fresh looking asphalt that covered it. In not too long, the mix of the rain’s din and the engine’s rumbling was the only sound that filled the car. All the while, the headlights were doing their best to cut through the ever thickening downpour, to a limited success.
“Fat chance anything’s gonna be clear through this rain, but might as well try,” Dad sighed. A few attempts to tune into a local radio station ended up unsuccessful; any melody they could make out was too drowned out by static to be listenable. “Yep, guess it’s just us and the road.”
“Moooom, can I play?”
Sue’s mom sighed quietly, rolling her eyes with a chuckle as she glanced over to the back seat. “Sure, sure, just turn the sound off.”
“Thank you!” Sue squeaked, scooping the handheld console up from the middle seat. Its purplish plastic was cracked in a couple of places from overuse, but still held strong as the rectangular screen came to life; the device’s welcoming chime soon silenced.
Much as the girl’s mom tried to limit her daughter’s screen time, she couldn’t deny that a dull ride back home with not even a radio to ferry them over was a more than justifiable time to lose herself to the plumbers and heroes of legend and all that.
For a solid while afterwards, all Sue’s memories remembered was the small, glowing screen in front of her, the outside world entirely tuned out. Clumps of pixels representing franchise icons moved and jumped around as the same few levels were replayed god knows how many times—all that mattered was that they were fun, and fun they most definitely were.
Sue grew drowsy as her dad drove on, the last of her excitement about their day out camping finally leaving her system. Eventually, she dropped the console onto the seat beside hers, closing her eyes and expecting to wake up in her own bedroom.
The moments that followed were nothing more than a sudden, deafening blur.
Blinding lights ahead of them. Her mom’s shout. The next thing Sue knew, the entire world was tumbling around her. Seatbelt dug into her body as she was rag dolled in her seat, the shriek of crumpling metal permanently burning itself into her memory.
An instant later, it was over with another loud crash.
All that accompanied the still present rain and rumble was an occasional crack or groan. The concussed world around her was nothing more than a dark blur as Sue realized she was sitting at an angle, her entire body hurting—
“Cass? CASS!?” Dad shrieked, making the girl try to focus on and look at where her mom sat. Her memory refused to follow, continuing to stare straight into the back of her dad’s seat and tuning out his despairing screams.
Refused to relive the sight just off to the left.
Refused to notice the blood splatter on the car’s dashboard.
Refused to see her mom’s body, crushed by the tree their car had slammed into.
Refused to hear any more of her dad’s pleading.
Refused to experience losing her innocence again.
Sue’s traumatic vision began to come undone around her, her quiet whisper the last sound before it all disappeared—
“M-mom?”
----------------------------------------
Sue had no idea how much time had passed by the time she felt herself return to reality. All she knew was that she’d been crying for a while, judging by the sticky sensation on her cheeks. Solstice was steadily stroking the side of her face and holding her tight, just as tightly as she was held herself earlier.
Her glance up at her mentor was returned, Solstice’s expression trying to be as comforting as she could manage, regardless of how badly she needed that comfort, too. “I’m so sorry, Sue.”
Sue thought about getting up before realizing just how utterly tired she was; any strength Sundance’s brew had filled her with long gone. Old emotional scars, both her own and her mentor’s, had drained her wholly, leaving little more than an emotionless husk behind.
And yet...
Her flat expression shuddered as her emotions crept back to her, including one particular sensation that she now, more than ever, couldn’t ignore—not after a light had been shone on it so directly. She recalled clasping her hands before bed each night for months afterwards, muttering whichever few prayers she knew for her mom to come back. For it all to have just been a vicious nightmare.
And yet, once she actually felt that comfort, the same warmth once more, after all these years... she didn’t know what to do.
Do I want this?
Do I deserve this?
Is it right of me to want this?
Is it fair? To myself, to Solstice, to my mom, to Aurora, is it right!?
Is it right of me to feel at home in ways I haven’t since that evening!?
Is it right of me to dread the return to my world, a world where I was and always would be a nobody, and where barely anyone has even realized I disappeared!?
Sue didn’t know. At that moment, there was only one thing she knew for certain, knew so much more than anything else in the world, be it this one or her own. The truth that felt so terrifying to admit—and yet, was no less real.
I don’t want Solstice to let go.