My vision zeros in on my mother and stepfather curled up in his bed. The morning sun casts pretty rays across their faces, and I smile.
They’re so in love.
I hope nothing happens to him.
It would destroy her.
Hans stands beside me, watching them as well. “Is he going to be okay?”
“He looks better.” It’s not a lie. Last night, his face was sunken, his eyes foggy, and his skin pale. Today, he looks like himself, with his rich brown skin reflecting golden tones in the sun.
As we stare at them, my mother begins to stir awake. She flicks her eyes open, and for a moment, shock and fear flash across her face. “Oh! Goodness, you startled me,” she says as she sits up. “What are you doing in here?”
“We slept in here,” I tell her, leaning against the wooden post of the bed. “We were worried about father.” That’s the only explanation I have for why we’re in here.
“He seems much better,” Hans remarks, circling the bed and climbing on it to touch his father’s face. “He’s not warm anymore.”
The Duke’s hand swats at his son. “He’s just fine, thank you very much. I told you both I would be fine.”
Flint is pacing the room behind me, growling low under his breath. Not for the first time, I wish I could understand the familiar. He seems out of sorts.
“Well, isn’t this fabulous news,” my mother says tightly. “All is well in our family again.” She heaves herself from the bed, her green velvet dress wrinkled and bunched.
Why would she sleep in such fine clothing?
She gently kisses my father’s cheek before striding to the door. “You must forgive me. I have something urgent to attend to.”
Hans and I exchange curious glances before turning back to our father. Though he looks well, something feels wrong about this situation.
There is something we’re missing here.
“Well, my boys, don’t just stand here staring at me. You can see I am back to my best self. Go, do something productive with your day.” He heaves himself out of the bed, and his legs nearly buckle as if he hasn’t stood in weeks. Hans catches him and slowly lowers his back to the plush surface of the bed.
“Easy, Father. You seem to have not regained your strength,” he says gently. Flint makes a distressed sound behind us. “Get more rest. We will go check on the village.”
Our father nods and urges us to leave, and when we exit his earshot, I question my brother. “What is wrong with Flint?”
“I’m unsure,” Hans says, feeding his fingers through the fur on the wolf’s head. “He’s not making much sense.”
We exit the home and begin to walk the cobblestone path to the village square. My body is stiff, as if I’ve been in a fight or walking for ages, but that is obviously not the case. I must be too old to be sleeping on floors.
“He said that we’ve forgotten something,” Hans tells me. “Something important.”
“Well, where can we find it?” I ask the wolf. Just because I can’t hear him doesn’t mean he can’t hear me.
“He cannot say, because he has forgotten as well. All he can say is that we must find it and that he thinks your mother knows where it is.”
I grind to a halt. “My mother? Why would my mother know?”
Hans stops with me, and his face scrunches up. “He can’t say.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” I snap. Sometimes, the riddles Flint speaks in frustrate me to no end. I will not have a wolf accusing my mother of malfeasance.
“Can’t. He says it is a feeling he has.” My brother places a hand on my arm. “You know we can trust Flint. He always looks out for us.” The wolf nudges me with his nose, and I reach down to stroke his nose. “He also says we need to head to the woods.”
“The Whispering Woods?” I shutter. I don’t care if it’s all just rumors and stories. Those woods hold secrets and danger within them.
But, we listen to Flint.
