Kurt's birth was long overdue but when the time came it was unexpected, fair-haired, and went by the name of Blaine.
A boy not yet twelve but too old to be eleven reclined on a stone bench in his family's garden. The tall hedges of the labyrinth did little to stop the cold winter winds from invading his corner. If the boy had his eyes open, he would see gray storm clouds darkening the paths crisscrossing in front of him. He kept his eyes closed in an attempt to repress these choices presented. One path could lead to the manor, another to a cliff-face and the sea below, and any one of them could lead farther into the labyrinth. The boy was frightened by the prospect of delving deeper into this unfamiliar world, especially in such unforgiving weather; he had not spent much time outside.
At that moment the boy's body was freezing, numb in fact. Any moment now he expected his fragile heart to lose the fight against the clench of winter's fist but he was too bored with the daily monotony of growing up to move.
Footsteps to his right became louder and through a gritty, half opened eye he saw the yellow tunic of a child not quite his height. The newcomer crouched down to the boy's eye level; his dark curly locks were buffeted by the wind and obscured much of his face.
"Come with me," said the intruder as he grabbed the boys hand. Stumbling over his feet, which had never been used for running, he let the boy lead him to a few false stops before they came out the opposite end of the labyrinth. Even this far away, he could see his family's mansion looming over the hedges. He was really cold now and wished he had resisted the boy's pull from his somewhat warm cocoon in the corner.
The intruder was now standing on the edge of the cliff the maze led to. With his arms spread wide and his tunic billowing, the boy looked like a baby eagle ready to take his first flight.
The boy turned around and smiled at him, "Someday we are going to build wings and catch a warm draft off this cliff. We will soar through the thick clouds and see the sun!"
This child was very odd and the chilled boy took a moment to gather an appropriate response for the strange situation. Finally he countered, "Or we could wait for a cloudless and warm day to see the sun."
"Where is the adventure in that Kurt? I want to be free!"
The boy named Kurt paused from surprise. "How do you know my name?"
"Well someone has to." The intruder nodded to himself as if finding his answer acceptable and then turned back to the cloudy sky and murky ocean. Kurt came up beside him, shivering as he was rocked by gusts of wind coming off the churning ocean.
"Do you have a name?" Kurt asked politely.
"Of course I do! Who does not?"
"People with parents who forget to name their children. So?" retorted Kurt.
"So?"
"Your name?"
"Blaine, you know that!" Surprised, Kurt realized that somehow he did; a part of his soul had been awakened. In the dead of winter a feeble but stubborn flower blossomed; how could it know that this was not its time because it has been sheltered by the smothering soil in seasons past. Kurt felt kindred toward the boy before him; Blaine was the air and the sun that welcomed his flower into the harsh reality.
Kurt took his first deep breath of the ocean air and thought maybe he could soar and touch the sun; just like Blaine wanted.