Big Brother

“Nolrion,” she said, pacing the wood restlessly. Her mind still swirled with a two lifetimes of battling memories. “His name is Nolrion. It means, 'born in the shadow of stars'. That turned out to be more true than I'd ever wanted. Oh!”

Her words fell apart, and she trembled, then leaned against the tree. Raleem stood, hand outstretched—

and let it fall.

--

“Prince Alfern!”

Fern ducked behind an ostentatious hydrangea and tried not to breathe. His escape was two-thirds complete. If it wasn't for that whiny, fragile sister of his—

“Alfern! Come here at this exact moment!”

Natha was altogether too nosy for her own good, he thought, but she was bound to wander away soon. He heard her wood-bottomed shoes, the steps muffled in the dirt, walk closer to the bush he'd chosen to hide behind.

“Alfern!”

She was right over top of him now. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she had found him, but then she walked away again. After he could hear her calling in another section of the garden, Fern leapt to his feet and raced away. The woods were so close, now. His bow and arrow were strung to his back, his pack was full of food, and a water canister sloshed at his side. Whoever said Wilderness classes were useless was obviously someone who had never planned to run away.

What boring people.

He dove and rolled into the underbrush and lay there for a few minutes, listening for any sound that would indicate he had been followed. When nothing was apparent, Fern got to his feet and brushed himself off, congratulating himself on his lucky escape.

He then found himself face to face with a figure clothed in black, and a sword was at his throat before he had time to make any friendly introductions.

“If you're going to run away, laddie, you've got to learn to listen better,” the man said. His voice was curiously thick and lilted, an accent that Fern couldn't quite recall. “I've been standing here the entire time.”

“Oi, put that away,” Fern said, face reddening in embarrassment. “I'm the Crown Prince. If you hurt me, my parents will have you hanged.”

“Hung,” the man corrected absently, putting his sword away. “I wasn't going to hurt you. You're the crown Prince? Of Ellymie?”

“Where else?” Fern said rudely.

The man examined him for a moment with a strange look on his weathered face.

“What's your name, laddo?”

“Alfern,” Fern said with some dignity.

“I trust that was your mother's idea?”

“It means 'Prince of Mountain Forests'.”

“Of course it does,” the man said with a funny smile. “Well, I'm sure you have somewhere interesting to get off to, so I'll leave you to that. Remember: use your ears.”

Fern didn't even deign to reply. He darted off into the woods before the man could blink.

Inspiration: Idle thoughts from 'Winter Rose' (McKillip) spun together with a string from an old story I haven't written in years, and this is what comes of it. I'm rather fond of Fern and Nol. You might see more snippets of them and theirs in the future.