Creatures of Value
Prologue
It is an important question: what matters in this world? A value like honesty, maybe something material like possessions, or even something emotional like happiness matters, right? Then comes the question of which of the identified matters most. One has to be more important. The answers to all of this are not clearly cut—or should the word universal be used? After all, in this world what matters most is determined by individuals. Such fickle creatures, individuals are. They have the power to choose what is most important in their own lives, and because of that they are born as naïve, blank slates. From there, they change as they grow, into a practically new person. As adults, they know what matters to them and have the abilities to protect it. There is just one question in all of this: when do children meet their guides?
"Artie, hurry up!"
"Sl-slow down!" cried a panting caretaker, futilely trying to keep his footing on the icy ground, "Alfred, you will slow down this instant! It's dangerous out here."
The small, blond child pouted at the scolding but neither slowed or even turned his head around to spare a glance at his fumbling elder brother. It was the first snow that winter and nothing was going to stop him from enjoying it, not even Arthur. Matthew had already gotten sick and effectively condemned him to playing alone, especially considering the way his caretaker exuded "holiday" spirit at the moment, so Alfred was more determined than ever not to let anything get in his way. Arthur seemed to realize when he did not even get a whine in response and he began to scan the snow for his baby brother. Part of the reason he had wanted the boy to slow down was not only because he could slip, but because the snow was so deep that he could practically bury himself. Admittedly, he was awed at how the boy could transverse the artic wasteland with so much ease while he was tripping over himself, but that awe has a tendency to die when the child disappears.
"Alfred?"
The snowy landscape did not move or utter a sound as Arthur's heart sunk. Had he even taken his eyes off of the child? Yes or no, it was always difficult to keep track of a moving target, especially one with inhuman speed. He had even been sprinting—and still was actually, slipping and sliding all the way, yet the only sounds were of the crunching snow under his feet.
"Alfred!?"
"Need some help?"
Arthur started before his emerald eyes narrowed on brown, feral rabbit running by his side. His features lightened at the mere sight of the familiar creature.
"Blair," he panted, relief clear in his voice, "I need to find that bugger, and quick. Then be faster than he could ever dream of."
The rabbit snorted at this before dissolving into the winter air, "As fast as a rabbit will have to do."
Arthur rolled his eyes at the words echoing in his head, "Be loyal to me and do it!"
"You know very well that is not how this works." the reprimand reverberated in his head, but he immediately noticed the difference in the ground he was covering.
Not only was he moving faster, but the slipping and sliding even eased a bit with his increased agility. There was no way that Alfred could be faster than him now. He just had to catch up to him. Surely the child was simply up ahead and not lost in the woods or anything. Arthur really hoped so, and pushed all thoughts to the contrary as far away as possible. That left room for something annoying to invade his mind: there was only one negative to Blair's help, the feeling of something hitting the back of his neck.
"Why couldn't I have pointed ears like a normal rabbit?" he groaned with a shake of his head, jostling the floppy things about.
If Blair found this amusing, he was not letting on in the slightest, "This is better than a hysteria fit, but how about a topic that does not ridicule our appearance?"
Arthur sighed, still diligently scanning the horizon. A simple conversation could not hurt. Small talk about the weather or something was so boring that it would be no distraction to noticing any trace of the missing boy. Besides, the moments he got to have a calm conversation with Blair was far and few in between.
"Well excuse me for being a concerned older brother."
He could feel the scrutinizing gaze within his mind. It took burning holes into one's mind to a whole other level.
"You should probably loosen your grip soon. He has to grow up soon enough."
Blair spoke the words rather neutrally, more of an observation than a suggestion, but it made Arthur's hackles raise regardless. This was not the conversation turn he had been expecting when he had made the sarcastic remark.
"He is still so young—"
"Age has nothing to do with it. Not really."
Arthur found himself biting his tongue, hard. He knew that. Of course he did. He was not an idiot. It was only a matter of time before Alfred met his guide, just like he had met Blair. In fact, the boy could have already. It was all up to the guide to reveal itself, as a mere glimpse or to stay from that day on. Still, it usually only happened when a person was in trouble, to save them, and when he or she was going through puberty, to guide them into adulthood. So why did Arthur have to worry about it when he would never let the first happen and the second was years away?
"Can you really blame me, though? For trying not to think about it? I do not want him to change." he could not help but ask, a smirk breaking through abruptly after as he caught sight of a trail of several small footprints.
"No." was all Blair said on the subject while his presence faded away and the small child increasingly came into focus as Arthur sprinted down the trail.
"There you are, Artie. What took you so long?" he asked, smiling as brightly as ever as he toddled about in the snow.
Arthur's eye twitched at the statement. If anything he got here incredibly fast. The thought crept into his mind that there was a possibility he would not have caught up to the child if Alfred had not stopped to play—and play he had now that Arthur was paying attention. There were snow angels everywhere, a formidable stockpile of snowballs alongside each of the two respectable forts, and a life size snow man in the middle of the battlefield. He began to feel his awe returning as the child flopped down to create yet another snow angel.
"You did all of this by yourself?"
Although it came out as a question, it was more of a statement. After all, there was no way Alfred could have done it with anyone all the way out in the wilderness where they were.
"No."
Arthur froze.
"What did you say?"
Alfred removed himself from the new indent in the snow and galloped over to his elder brother without even brushing the excess ice off, "I said no. Nikki helped me."
Arthur felt the tension in his shoulders increase, "And where is this 'Nikki' now?"
Alfred smiled brightly at the mention of his apparently friend's name, "She had to go home already. I said I would take her there, but she said I should worry more about you. Did you get lost or something?"
Arthur shook his head numbly before grasping one of Alfred's hands firmly, "I think it is time to go back now."
Alfred immediately began to protest, but Arthur expected as much and scooped the boy up before he could get away. His pout did not lighten, but he at least did not squirm as Arthur began following his own footsteps back to their home. The caretaker did not look back once as he walked on, even though he knew there was a brown, floppy-eared rabbit staring into the forest line behind him, and that there was something staring back at them that neither of them could see.
