Amara

Anna seemed totally nonchalant as she led Amara through the cobbled streets of Yarruck. She merely turned a beaming smile to a few people as they passed them by. When they reached the chapel Anna took a single breath before detouring round the back and opening the wrought iron gate that led the way into a wide courtyard filled with gravestones.

The cemetery.

Amara’s grip on the Tigran’s hand tightened instinctively. She looked at her smiling face and found only comfort there, somehow. Comfort in the domain of the dead.

Who was she visiting here, of all places?

"This might be a little weird," she whispered, like the buried dead were listening. "But it’s something I have to do."

Though she felt uneasy, Amara’s did not relinquish Anna’s hand. She held it fast while they walked through columns of gravestones and tombs till they reached a miniscule slab set into a grassy knoll at the end of the cemetery.

The words engraved on the tiny little grave meant nothing to Amara – they were scrawls in a language she couldn’t understand. But she could just make out the name ‘Arnett’.

Anna shot her a look that was possessed by sorrow before breaking away from her and kneeling down next to the mound.

"Hey, mom."

Amara’s blood froze in her veins as she heard those words – the first time she’d heard them spoken by someone else, with the same soft longing she had.

"I’m doing well," Anna continued. "Soon, I’ll have enough cash for a carriage that’ll take me as far as Lucent. Far away from here. I’ve set everything up with friends down that way. Next month I think I’ll be ready."

Amara did nothing but listen intently. Here was this Tigran pouring her heart out to her mother, just wanting her to listen, and she had no idea how much she was stirring up Amara’s soul in the moment. Amara’s brain was burning – awash with the realization that maybe everyone spoke to the dead after all. Maybe Anna heard her mother’s voice, too. Did that mean she had The Glance, like her? Amara didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. Her insides felt strange. Her stomach seemed looser, like there was a tight knot down in her intestines that had finally been loosened. She felt lighter, somehow.

"Whatever happens though, I won’t leave you for good. I’ll still come back and visit, ok?"

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Amara was drawn in, standing over the Tigran’s shoulder. She didn’t even feel like she was blinking.

"I hope you’re proud, wherever you are," she said quietly. Then she sat in silence, her arms cuddling her knees for some minutes that stretched on for eternity.

When she turned back to Amara, it was clear that there had been tears streaming down her fur.

"Sorry, Amara," she sniffed. "I know this must seem weird. You might even think I’m insane. But this is all I have left of mom and, I don’t know, sometimes it just helps to talk to her."

She wiped her eyes and giggled.

"It’s dumb, I know."

Amara bent down beside her. But she couldn’t look her in the eyes for some reason. Instead, she focused on their feet, covered in snow and tufts of dying grass.

"It’s not that weird," she said.

Then she felt the warmth of Anna’s soft hands on hers again, and the warmth that radiated from her body was different than the flame she felt within herself. It was pure comfort – devoid of the potential for harm. There was no danger in her fur, or the skin that she felt beneath.

"Amara,: she said. "Thank you. You know, I’ve never brought anyone else here with me, but there’s just something about you that drew me to you today. I thought you’d understand, somehow. Even though you’re a human – there’s not that much difference between us when all’s said and done. Actually," she giggled. "You’re so much cuter than I was when I was your age."

Amara bolted upright. The blood in her veins flamed into life and flowed with more vigor than she’d felt since she made her last kill. The snowflakes seemed much warmer, somehow.

"Oh!" Anna said as she read her face. "Sorry! That was inappropriate, right? Here I am trying to make a friend and I’m messing it up already. Eugh."

"N-no it’s," Amara stuttered, feeling her face flush. "It’s ok."

She felt Anna clasp her hands tighter, and now Amara forgot all about the snow surrounding them, and the cold eating at her knees embedded in the soil of the graveyard.

"Hey," Anna whispered. "I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t seem like the kind of girl who’s looking to settle down in a place like this."

Amara’s smile was almost unconscious.

"Thought so," Anna smiled back. "You know, if you like, you don’t have to go back to that crappy Inn. You can stay with me till you’re ready to move on. If you wanted to."

Amara expected her hands to tremble as she heard those words. But they didn’t.

"I’ll have to ask my – I mean – I’ll think about it, I guess."

She felt the Tigran squeeze her hands harder. "I hope you do."

Anna then stood, brushed herself off, and did the same to Amara when she noticed how messy her cloak now looked.

"I stay just over that way," she said, pointing at another ramshackle hovel beyond the church’s rusted gate. "Fourth place on the right. Just next to the baker’s house. You know it?"

Amara nodded sheepishly as she remembered her theft only two nights ago.

"I’ll maybe see you later then," Anna said, and she let her hands drop and walked on ahead of her. "Unless, of course, you liked that porridge after all."

Amara watched her leave with a smirk on her face – and its existence caused her no small surprise. She stayed in the cemetery for some time, till the image of the Tigran’s back could no longer be seen in her vision. She watched her disappear into the white cloud that subsumed Yarruck’s streets and only when she was sure she was out of sight did she become acutely aware of the cold nipping at her ankles.

But then she clenched her still open hands, letting her fingernails slowly stroke the inside of her palms.

They were still warm.