After The End: Part 3

(TRIGGER WARNING: Brief flashback to child abuse)

Letari found the grindstone and a knife in the tent without much trouble. As they brought the tools back out into the cave, their mind was racing, trying to work out a plan. They were still too muddled to come up with anything useful. With that storm raging outside, striking out on their own would be beyond foolish. At least Anur seemed to have no intention of harming them.

Letari cast a few quick glances over at him. He was kneeling on the floor near the mouth of the cave, eyes intent on his little sister as he showed her how to skin a wood hen correctly. Several times he had to reposition her hand on the knife for a better grip, but his smile made it clear he found Aava's mistakes endearing rather than annoying.

The other two children had assembled the ingredients for a batch of stew in a heap near the stone fire pit and were now playing with a family of wooden peg dolls as one of their pony-sized wolves watched with interest. 

After a quick search through the brightly painted wooden wagon, Letari found the promised oil, spices and a large jar of pink rock salt. Carrying everything back out, they settled down cross-legged with the grindstone in front of them and got started on the peppers. The repetitive work gave their mind plenty of time to wander. 

Memories of Agraine sprang up, as usual. Wildly curly dark hair, a coarse white streak in it framing one side of her face, and creamy brown skin patched with similar white birthmarks. Sharp hazel eyes and that teasing hook of a smile. 

She only ever smiled at them like that, and only ever in a challenge of some kind. Everyone else got Agraine’s sweet, earnest smiles or the fake, polite ones. But with Letari, she'd never been sweet or polite, never been the golden child she was with everyone else. When they were alone with her she showed her real self: a sharp tongue, a wicked sense of humor, and a reckless competitive streak. 

That little quirk had remained long after their friendship had been fractured and twisted into – well, whatever they were to each other now. Reluctant allies with too much history probably summed it up best. Although after that kiss on the Day of Dying Suns – no.

Letari shook their head, crushing the peppers more vigorously. They were nothing to each other now, no matter how entangled they had been before. Agraine probably thought they were dead. For both their sakes, Letari was going to keep it that way. 

With all the peppers ground into a flaky reddish powder, they switched to chopping and peeling the onions. At least this way they had an excuse for any treacherous tears that escaped. 

“How’s it coming?” 

Letari flinched. They’d been so absorbed in their thoughts, they hadn’t noticed Anur walking over to them. Either their senses had dulled without their magic, or they were just out of practice. Neither was good. They couldn’t afford to get caught off guard, now or ever. 

Belatedly they realized Anur was still looking at them, waiting for an answer. 

“Almost done with these, then I can get the carrots cut.” Letari replied. 

Anur nodded. “Thanks. I’ll get the fire built up again.” 

He sat down on the opposite side of the fire pit, rummaging through his belt-pouch for a sparkstone. His dark hair was even more curly than his younger siblings, pulled back from his face into a low, tidy puff of a ponytail. Anur’s broad, angular features were fixed in an expression of concentration as he lit the fire underneath a large cauldron. Lights and shadows danced across his face as the flames grew. Finally, he sat back on his heels with a boyish grin. 

“That ought to do it.” 

He walked around the edge of the fire pit. “Could you hand me the oil?” 

Letari handed over the little pottery jar. 

“Thanks.” 

“You don’t need to keep thanking me.” 

Anur made a face. “Why wouldn’t I? I may have been raised by wolves, but that’s no excuse for bad manners. You’re our guest.”  

Letari had no easy retort for that. Nobody had treated them with this much courtesy in a long time. Not unless the other person wanted something from them. Anur didn’t seem to want anything besides a little help with dinner. That set off more than a few of Letari’s internal alarms, because usually they could tell what people’s ulterior motives were. With Anur, they couldn’t. Which either meant he was just genuinely this nice, or he had an excellent front put up. 

They were pulled out of their thoughts again by the sizzles and pops of oil hitting hot metal. 

“Onions, please.” Anur said briskly. 

“Do you have anything to stir them with?” Letari asked. 

Anur slapped a hand to his forehead. “Shit! I knew I was forgetting something.” 

He raced off to the wagon, returning moments later with a long-handled bamboo spoon. 

“What does shit mean?” Aava asked, plunking a butchered wood-hen carcass down in front of them. 

“Means dung.” Letari said absently, pouring the onions and peppers into the pot. 

“Why don’t you just say dung then?” 

“Saying shit is more fun.” 

“It’s also not a word she’s allowed to use.” Anur said pointedly, handing Letari the spoon. 

“Awwww.” Aava whined. “Really?” 

“Really. Now go wash your hands in the spring.” 

“Kita already licked them off.” Aava protested. 

Anur sighed. “Yes, and now you have wolf spit as well as bird blood on your hands. All the more reason to wash them. Go on.” 

Aava groaned, but jogged off to do as she was told. Letari couldn’t help a laugh. They stirred the onions, adding more spices to the mixture until the smoky, savory scent filled the cave. Anur sniffed appreciatively. 

“Mmm. Whoever taught you to cook did the world a great service.” 

“Glad you think so.” Letari said, tossing in chunks of meat. “My Aunt Kreela would be very smug if she could hear you right now.” 

“You have an Aunt?” 

“You sound surprised.” Letari noted. 

Anur shrugged, looking embarrassed. 

“I don’t know, I guess I just never thought about heroes having families.” 

Letari froze on instinct, goosebumps prickling across their body at the use of that word to describe them. 

Unbidden, Master Crail’s voice thundered through their head. “Oh, of course. You were trying to be a hero.” 

Then their own voice, much younger, entered the memory. “I, I’m sorry! I was just trying to do the right thing, I-” 

“Heroes are not what we train here, Letari. Right and wrong are irrelevant, you must follow your orders and do what is effective.”

“But my Ma says-” 

The echoing slap of a palm against their face cut them off. 

“Your Mother has no claim over you. You belong to the Empire now, and you will never be a hero. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir. It won’t happen again.” 

“Make certain it doesn’t.” 

Letari came back to reality with a shiver, to find Anur reaching a hand in their direction. Reflexively, they grabbed his hand, bending it backwards at the wrist. Anur yanked his hand away with a pained yelp. 

“What was that for?” He demanded. 

Letari avoided his eyes, trying to slow their breathing to a normal rate. 

“Don’t touch me.” They said, once they could speak without yelling. “And never call me that. I’m not a hero.” 

“Alright.” Anur said, slow and wary like Letari was a skittish animal he didn’t want to frighten. 

A soft green glow gathered around his wrist as he scowled down at it, healing whatever damage they’d just inflicted. Letari’s chest twinged with regret. They picked up their knife again and started chopping the carrots. 

“Are you going to keep attacking me?” Anur asked. “Because that might make it hard to finish dinner.” 

“No.” Letari said.

Anur gave a wry smile. “That’s a relief. Is there anything else I should avoid so I don’t upset you?” 

Letari raised an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Because you apparently get violent when you’re upset. Not the safest thing when there are children around.”

He gestured towards the rear of the cave, where Aava had joined Bennu, Pree, and two of the wolves in a rowdy game of catch-and-fetch with a leather ball. 

Letari winced. “I’m sorry. It won't happen again.” 

They hesitated, then added, “It was a reflex. I wouldn't hurt you deliberately.” 

They might if they actually needed to, but telling Anur that would be counterproductive. They were trying to stay on his good side, at least until they could leave. But Anur seemed to take their statement at face value, because he only nodded. Even after they had hurt him, Anur seemed to trust them. Letari wasn't sure how to feel about that. They shook the muddled thoughts from their head. Time to finish dinner, before anything else happened.

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