Together we fall

20 | Emerson

The light in the Wanderling woods was dim and the air was chilly; the wind whipped against Emerson's thin green jerkin. He pulled his cape around him tightly, trying to block the breeze.

"You really didn't have to come," Ember murmured to him as they stared at the towering tree.

It's branches were adorned with red leaves and light blue flowers that peppered the tree in rich color and diverse texture. It was beautiful, but haunting, knowing that a councilor had once looked like this very tree.

"I wanted to," he whispered back.

They stood together, watching Ember's parents with curious eyes.

They'd managed to escape Ro for the afternoon—apparently ogres weren't allowed in the woods after a run in with King Dimitar and Ember's mother years ago. Emerson was glad she wasn't there, but he did feel safer when she was around.

Ember's parents knelt by the tree, gazing silently with glazed eyes.

Emerson heard Ember's mother start to cry, quiet at first, then louder. Her dad pulled her into his arms, cooing sweetly into her ear.

Ember looked like she wanted to comfort her mother as well, but didn't know how. She looked so helpless and lost that Emerson reached over and took her hand, squeezing gently.

They watched quietly as Sophie Foster cried into her husband's shoulder, her sobs hollow and sad as they penetrated the drafty air.

"I miss him," Ember's mother weeped quietly, letting her soft tresses fall into her eyes.

Her husband tucked her hair behind her ear and laced his fingers through his wife's. He leaned close enough that their noses nearly touched, whispering to her as he stared into her big brown eyes. His hands cradled her face, brushing away her tears as they streaked her cheeks.

"We should give them some space," Ember whispered, taking Emerson's hand and pulling him down a near path that was lined with small saplings of varying colors.

He nodded as their footsteps fell in sync, softly thumping the dirt path.

As they walked the air got warmer, but not much. It was more likely that the strong, sturdy branches of the trees surrounding them were blocking the wind. Their trunks were thick, firmly rooted in the ground like they'd been planted there for centuries.

And they might have.

"You know," Emerson said to her after they were out of earshot, "your parents are really cute together."

Ember looked up, meeting his eyes. "Huh?"

"I mean . . . your dad is so gentle with your mom," Emerson said softly. "I always thought he was all snark and pranks—I guess I didn't realize . . ."

" . . . how caring he is?" Ember finished for him.

He nodded.

As they came to a fork in their path, Ember led them to the right, down a shadier lane of expansive trees. "He's a great father," she whispered. "Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky."

"I'm glad you have them," Emerson murmured. "They love you so much."

"I know," she whispered. "They're amazing."

She wiped her eyes as if tears were staring to form and laced her fingers through his, intertwining their hands. "Your dad told you about his cousin, right—Jolie?" She asked, leading him up a tall hill.

"Yeah," he replied, "The one who died in a fire?"

"That's the one."

Ember led him to the crest of the hill, where a towering tree stretched into the sky. It was beautiful, with weeping leaves and tourquise blossoms that smelled pleasantly of honey.