Great Spirits

∆ Thirteen ∆

Wren had dirtied his hands a long time ago. The first time it was an accident and haunted his every waking moment, but after the second and third one he became less bothered by it. One may argue self defense, but Wren saw it for what it was. It was murder, and he had done it more than the number of years he had lived. So why did it bother him to kill in order for Silas to live?

He looked at Silas gazing intently at him as Silas always did. Wren said he would feed him, and he was a man of his word. He'd do it, but he did not know how to go about it just yet. He thought of the old hags and boorish women who made his mother and his lives a living hell. 

There were times when they orchestrated some villagers to help bar them from their home— the village even. Tears of anger swelled in his eyes. When they were finally let back in they had no home to go back to. It was either destroyed by fire or their hands. 

"It is okay, Wren," Silas said pulling him out of his thoughts. 

Wren rubbed one eye and sniffed. "No, I will. I said I would, did I not? I am a man of my word."

As Wren made a motion to rise, Silas grabbed his wrist and kept him put. "No, Wren. Accepting what is and what will be is all I am asking of you. Nothing more." 

The guilt that was nestling in his stomach lurched forward and there was no way of swallowing it back down. "It is because of me that you are like this," Wren admitted.  

"Like this?" Silas chuckled. "I am always like this. I will always be like this, Wren." 

"I was told differ..." Wren's eyes lowered to the ground.  

"Perhaps you were and perhaps there was a time that was true, but it is not that way now. It is no fault of yours."

 Wren stayed silent as Silas continued to gaze at him. "All that I ask from you now is an answer to my question." Silas' hand moved from his wrist to his hand. He grasped it firmly in his and smiled. "Whatever it may be."

Silas had a way about him. The more Wren tried to pull away and distance himself from him, Silas would pull him closer, an inescapable closeness like the embrace of the island. The comfort of a mother.

"It seems as though you found no other to share your burden with," Wren mumbled while looking at their hands and then to his fervent brown eyes. He was terrified of him just moments ago and now he felt as though he was a close friend he had known for all his life. 

"I wish to leave now, if you are ready," Silas said. He said it in such a way like he already knew what Wren's answer would be.  

This island, his home, made him feel all of these nauseating emotions he thought he had already put aside and dealt with. However, coming back made old wounds open and fill with pus. It was too much too soon for him. He wanted to leave. Thoughts of even his mother made him upset.

Silas massaged his hand as if noticing him becoming upset. He had to pull himself together. Now was not the time. Not in front of Silas. 

"I am sure there will come a time when coming back to your home will be less painful. Until then let us leave now. All the answers to my questions have been given."

Wren pulled his hand away and dusted off his pants. "I hope we are leaving the same way we came. My crew is in Niunua. Weeks journey from here."  

"I know." Silas motioned for him to follow. 

Without hesitation he went along and followed him deeper into the forest. Wren hadn't noticed  how quiet and still the forest had become. There were no sounds from cicadas, chirping from birds, not even the crunch of leaves under their feet. However, the final rays of light shone through the trees.