My dear Brother

They had called him a miracle.
He had been a miracle.
Only two eggs, and when the first had finally started to crack open, when I finally had poked my nose out from the protective shell, everyone had been happy, but no one had been surprised. A Tundra, of course. Cute and fluffy, surely an enrichment to the whole clan, but nothing too special. And when the second egg, my twin, had started to wiggle around, our parents and their clanmates had been glad, but not too excited.
A Tundra, what else? Everyone knew the outcome, right?
Wrong.
Even back then, my brother had refused to stick to any rules. He had refused to fit into any statistics and become another Tundra, like he was supposed to. No, he had used his teeth and claws to dig his way out of the egg and into the wide world that awaited him- I admit that his high pitched predator screech had almost made me jump out of the nest.
My brother, the Wonder Wildclaw.
Back then, I had called him that way just to mock him. I wouldn't ever had admitted to him that to me, he was a wonder indeed. An annoying one at times but nevertheless, a wonder.
I should have told him how much I loved him. How much he meant to me. Before it was too late.

All his strength and all his wit hadn't been enough to protect him from the one simple and silly thing that we call destiny. At least the elders do so. I think it's only so they feel better about what happened, but let's face it: He had lost to bad luck. I know, it sounds pretty undramatic, but it had been an accident during one of his hunts and nothing more.
Just a simple accident and my brother was gone.
Within the blink of an eye.
He took half my heart with him.

I told our parents that I can still hear his voice. They hit me, saying it was 'bad taste' to talk like that. I don't blame them, they are deep in sorrow- maybe that's why they are deaf to his calls.
What he is telling me? I wonder. It's almost like he is talking in another language now.
But sometimes he cries and that is a universal sound.
Excuse me.

...

Ah, you're still here. I just had to clean my snout. All that blood keeps drying up in my fur... now understand why we usually stick to eating plants and fruits. But you see, sometimes I just can't hold myself back.
Digging up mice and wolfing them down, barely realizing what I had been doing- that's how it started. By now, I chase after hares and cats and what can I say, I'm actually a decent hunter. Who would have thought?
My brother... I think he is praising me. I think he is proud.
He will always be with you.
That's what they said, but I bet they never meant their words to be literal.
But I feel him. His presence.

Please, don't tell the others, but... I feel weak. More than just a bit unwell.
I think it's just my body giving up on me. It's not used to digesting flesh and bones, to drawing any nutrients from animal blood. My belly is full and yet, I'm starving. Sickening myself.
But that's alright.
My brother is here with me.
And if this keeps going, if I can't adapt myself to these new urges... then soon, I will be the one joining him.
My dear brother.