Unforgiven

My brother is an audacious, immoral, homicidal bastard, Summer thought as she paced the cabin. She agreed to see him after centuries of estrangement, and this was where he chose to meet? A wooden cabin surrounded by snow and trees, with nothing but a pitiful, barred fire for warmth? A cabin located so close to where they had buried him? If Winter believed such conditions would convince her to forgive him, he was mistaken.

Summer glanced at the note in her hand. The message was written on dirt-stained paper in a childlike handwriting:

SUMMER,

I HOPE THIS REACHES YOU. I KNOW IT'S BEEN A WHILE, BUT I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU AGAIN. THERE'S A CABIN 60 MILES WEST OF HIS GRAVE. PLEASE MEET ME THERE ON THE WINTER SOLSTICE.

WINTER

The letter had arrived by bird-a clever decision, considering how rarely Summer associated with others. Despite the isolation, however, her life had been pleasant: alone in the desert, away from mortals and the cold. Meeting with Winter would destroy that peace; she knew it. Unfortunately, a part of her-a part in desperate need of logic-wished to see Winter. Also unfortunately, the frigid atmosphere had already silenced that part.

As Summer thought that, Winter stepped into the room, closing the door quietly. Unlike herself, her brother had hardly changed-he had swapped woolen shirts for a woolen coat, and he was now clean-shaven, but the face was the same. Hair a paler shade of blond than any mortal's Summer had seen, bright blue eyes, and a smile plastered on his face. Winter always smiled. He had probably smiled when he had done It.

Don't think about it, Summer.

Winter sat down in the only chair in the cabin-a flimsy contraption made of yet more wood. Summer stood across from him, drawing upon the fireplace's meager heat for comfort. This will not end well, she thought. Happy as she was to see her brother, one meeting could not erase three hundred years of bitterness.

"Summer!" Winter greeted, his smile transforming into a wolfish grin. "I'm glad you could make it. Now that you're here, I was just wondering if-if we could talk." He paused, starting expectantly at Summer.

"Talk," Summer repeated. It was an odd request. After everything he did, centuries of separation, and a vague note requesting a meeting in a ramshackle cabin, her brother wished to talk?

Winter shrugged. "Well, yeah. I know this isn't the best environment-"

That's an understatement. "No, it isn't. I trust you haven't forgotten how harmful the cold can be to...to everyone." Her voice trailed off. Don't think about it!

Winter's smile melted. "No, I haven't. I still remember what I did, Summer, though I have made peace with it. That-that's what I wanted to discuss."

"You mean what happened in the village?" Summer said. "The event you...have made peace with? Forgive me, but it sounds as though you've embraced being an abomination." Child-killer. "You're no better than mortals, are you? A pack of killers, the lot of you." If only the fire was larger. She could burn him, right where his smile would be-no; she had to control her temper. I'm better than this.

"The humans weren't the bad guys," Winter said, "I was. I acknowledge that. Yes, I don't hate myself anymore, but that's no reason to label me an abomination, especially for something that occurred centuries ago. I've made peace with myself, Spring's-" Spring? "-forgiven me; can't you at least try?" Spring? Had the apocalypse come to pass? When the two of them parted all those years ago, Spring had shared her sentiments regarding Winter. Summer had never known her sister to be so changeable-no doubt the work of mortals. They were vultures-whenever tragedy occurred, they were there.