Pricklepear never really understood her brothers. Sure, her and Seelie had the common ground of their shared charge, their love for the little pearlcatcher they had sworn their lives to. But she couldn't understand the feelings behind his methods, the reasoning why. She can't help but wonder what purpose sacrificing himself in this way serves.
Collwen is inconsolable, buried deep in the tangles of his sister's mane. Tirva makes no move to dislodge him, her gaze fixed on the freshly overturned dirt where Seelie will dream forevermore. Pricklepear feels she ought to be angry, she ought to hate the pair for what's happened here, for the irreversible hurt Aurum has faced at their hands. But when she meets the imperial's gaze, she sees nothing but hurt there, and even she can't bring herself to see meek little Collwen as any sort of threat.
Aurum brushes wildflower seeds from one of Cornflower's pouches into the dirt atop the burial site, and for once in his life, he does not cry. The calm expression he bears looks wrong on him, and Pricklepear wishes more than anything she could tear it away. She never understood all those things Seelie said about emotional hurt, the way her pearlcatcher brother wept so openly was seemingly impossible to avoid. And yet, watching him now, she begins to understand.
Pricklepear stands over her brother's final resting place until the sun is swallowed by the horizon, until the rest of the convoy has dispersed to sleep. Slowly, careful not to disturb Aurum's work, she lies to rest with him.
"Tomorrow," she growls as though her brother will hear through the dirt and death separating them, "we will wake up without you."
The world seems to hold its breath while she waits for an answer that will never come. And then, in a rush like the world resuming, it begins to rain. She spreads her wing across her brother's grave as though to shield him from it.
"You're an idiot," she accuses him, though her words come out soft. "He would have cried for Collwen."
Collwen is inconsolable, buried deep in the tangles of his sister's mane. Tirva makes no move to dislodge him, her gaze fixed on the freshly overturned dirt where Seelie will dream forevermore. Pricklepear feels she ought to be angry, she ought to hate the pair for what's happened here, for the irreversible hurt Aurum has faced at their hands. But when she meets the imperial's gaze, she sees nothing but hurt there, and even she can't bring herself to see meek little Collwen as any sort of threat.
Aurum brushes wildflower seeds from one of Cornflower's pouches into the dirt atop the burial site, and for once in his life, he does not cry. The calm expression he bears looks wrong on him, and Pricklepear wishes more than anything she could tear it away. She never understood all those things Seelie said about emotional hurt, the way her pearlcatcher brother wept so openly was seemingly impossible to avoid. And yet, watching him now, she begins to understand.
Pricklepear stands over her brother's final resting place until the sun is swallowed by the horizon, until the rest of the convoy has dispersed to sleep. Slowly, careful not to disturb Aurum's work, she lies to rest with him.
"Tomorrow," she growls as though her brother will hear through the dirt and death separating them, "we will wake up without you."
The world seems to hold its breath while she waits for an answer that will never come. And then, in a rush like the world resuming, it begins to rain. She spreads her wing across her brother's grave as though to shield him from it.
"You're an idiot," she accuses him, though her words come out soft. "He would have cried for Collwen."
