Cold wind whipped and clawed at Hollow's cloak. It shrieked and howled in their ears like a banshee of ages long past. They dug their claws into the fossilstone of the cliff. It was a struggle to gain purchase on the weathered stone, and far below awaited the gaping maw of the ground, ready to break them to pieces.
Then, something warm and leathery hit Hollow's face with a loud whap!, and their world went dark.
Ghost, you really do need to keep a better hold on Grimmchild, they sighed. He is young yet. A wind like this could tear his little wings apart, or carry him halfway across the world, or both.
I'm trying! came Ghost's peevish reply some distance above them. But he keeps chewing and setting fire to all the grub-carriers Hornet helps me make for him.
"Screee…" Grimmchild chittered pitifully. His claws were little pinpricks of pain against their carapace as he clung to their head.
With a grunt, they anchored their feet and one hand in the cliff face. They carefully peeled Grimmchild off, pinching his scruff between their thumb and forefinger to keep him from squirming. Hollow felt the distinct snik of claws extracting themselves from their shell (blessed kingdom below, they had just had their shell buffed, too). Once they had him in their hold, they moved him into the little sheltered space between their cloak and chest.
'A debt to repay,' he said, Hollow grumbled, more to themself than anyone else. They gently stroked Grimmchild's back before resuming their climb upward. Your parasitic, fluke-tupping charlatan of a sire simply did not want to pay the geo for a proper caretaker. A wonder he kept you alive long enough to turn you over to Ghost's care...
Huh? Ghost asked, poking their head out from the ledge above. Did you say something?
Merely speaking to myself, little one, they replied as they pulled up level with their sibling.
Well, you should really talk to you nicer. Ghost patted at their face and then at Grimmchild. He's okay, right?
He will be after a little rest. Hollow rubbed between Ghost's horns in reassurance. A child of considerable power, but a child nonetheless.
I guess, their smaller sibling replied, words half-lost in a yawn. Their eyes drooped and they sagged into Hollow's touch.
Speaking of sleepy little godlings, Hollow laughed. Scooping Ghost up - oh, but they forgot how tiny their sibling still was sometimes - Hollow reached behind them until Ghost could settle in the space between their shoulders.
Not sleepy, Ghost whined even as they burrowed their hands into the folds of Hollow's cloak. Not little, either…
Be that as it may, their sibling continued, this is why little grubs do not stay up until all hours of the night chasing maskflies down in the Greenpath. Hornet and I feared you and Grimmchild had been snatched up by that Hunter.
Without pausing in their step, Hollow reached for the next handhold in the rock. Sleep for a while if you wish, little one. It is still some distance to Mato's house.
No, don't wanna… Ghost replied even as their head slumped against Hollow's back.
Hollow's knowing chuckle came as a soft chuff, and they did not reply. Moments later came the soft rattle of their little sibling's breath as they drifted into sleep. Even that sound was soon lost to the winds as Hollow continued the long journey up.
"My children!" came the nailmaster's call as the three of them strode in. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming today."
Hollow straightened as they ducked under the low threshold of Mato's hut. They raised their hands, bringing both their thumbs to their forefingers to form a circle. Then, flattening their fingers, their hands fell to their side once more - the sign for "teacher." In the same motion, they dipped their head in greeting.
"Honored teacher," they signed. "It is good to see you."
Ghost, just stirring from their nap, leaned up to stare blearily over Hollow's shoulder. Upon seeing the other bug, however, they were quite awake in an instant. They jumped down, and Hollow had the good sense to step quickly back for-
"Mato!" Ghost exclaimed in the nailmaster's name-sign. Which, incidentally, was simply the Cyclone Slash technique Mato had taught them once upon a time. Shields and masks and all matter of the hut's accoutrement as Ghost went spinning with their nail. To the credit of himself and his craft, he did not even flinch as he beamed at the smaller vessel.
"Nail-Dad!" Grimmchild shouted as he hurled himself at Mato-ward through the air.
Mato caught him in one arm, whirling around to scoop up Ghost with the next. He gave both a hearty embrace, much the shrieking delight of Grimmchild and the wiggly limbs of Ghost. He motioned with a turn of his head for Hollow to follow behind.
He promptly sat the three of them beside the hospitality of his hearth. Ghost and Grimmchild needed no invitation to help themselves to the overflowing tray of sweets and pastries that awaited them. It was a little known fact that Mato was quite the talented pâtissier, at least in the proper company and when he could get his hands on the proper ingredients.
Hollow took a heaping plate of their own with only slightly more decorum. They had already make short work of three little citrus-flavored tarts, a favorite of theirs, when Mato passed a steaming mug of moss-rose tea. They gently squeezed his hand with their larger one in thanks before taking a sip.
"I don't suppose your sister will be dropping by?" the nailmaster asked as he sat cross-legged in front of Hollow. "I'd hoped to go over a point or two about the last demonstration she gave me and my brothers. Her needlework is nothing short of impeccable."
"No," Hollow replied, shaking their head as they set their mug down. "She is busy distracting Quirrel today with another visit to the Archives while Lemm and the Nailsmith make the final preparations on that engagement band."
"Ah! I think I remember Sheo mentioning something about that. Is that old curator finally working up the nerve to propose?"
"I certainly hope so." Their eyes crinkled slightly about the edges. "I have a considerable amount of geo riding on Lemm being the one to propose first."
"Hollow! Don't tell me you chipped into my old master's betting pool?"
"Naturally," Hollow replied. "I believe all of Hallownest has by now."
"If Oro's given you children his blasted gambling habits, I swear-"
"And what did you bet, teacher?" they cut in, artfully stirring Mato away from the subject of his twin.
"A hundred geo on Quirrel, of course," he replied matter-of-factly. "He's decidedly the bolder of the two. If either is going to pop the question first, it'll be him."
He spared a glance over at Ghost and Grimmchild. "Little ones, while it's always flattering to see you eating my baking with such... Gusto… Please actually chew your food or else you'll choke. Again."
"Chewing's for chumps!" Grimmchild squeaked back, the red viscera of a berry danish smeared across his maw.
Ghost did not even seem to hear the nailmaster as they gobbled up the food. Rather, they were slurping up the creme filling of a cupcake with the rabid moxie of a starving mosquito. (Though they appeared to be getting more creme on their cloak than in their belly, Hollow noted.)
Mato and Hollow exchanged a knowing look before shaking their heads and shrugging as one. There was no teaching sense to a godling, much less either of those two. They resumed talking between themselves as Ghost and Grimmchild continued their gluttonous siege upon the tray.
Mato and Hollow whiled away the afternoon together in conversation, trading news on their families and the gossip of the kingdom below. Now and then they would pause to play and tussle with the wild little godlings (and to occasionally snuff out the small fires that inevitably followed in Grimmchild's wake), or to run through a nailart training set Mato wanted to test with Hollow.
All four were quite weary by evening, but happily so. Ghost and Grimmchild had tired themselves out once again as Mato poured himself and Hollow another mug of tea. The pair of godlings had ended up collapsing in a tired heap in the nailmaster's lap. Embers flurried away from Grimmchild's snoring maw as he idly gnawed on Ghost's horns in his sleep. Ghost themself slept like a rock as they snuggled down firmly in the folds of their mentor's cloak.
"Such energetic little grubs," Mato laughed as he gently stroked a finger between Grimmchild's eyes. "I feel terribly old and yet so young again to watch them play. Strange, isn't it? Makes me wonder if my master ever felt the same as he watched me and brothers squabble amongst ourselves."
"If you and your brothers got up to even half the mischief these two do," Hollow signed, "then Sly is truly deserving of my respect and my pity."
The two fell into companionable silence for a while after that. The day and the long climb up the Howling Cliffs was slowly catching up with Hollow. Weariness tugged at their eyes and their shell. Their head was just dipping forward to rest against their chest in a doze when a light touch at their cheek roused them again.
"My child," Mato, gently holding the side of Hollow's face with his free hand, "are you unwell?"
They glanced up before tilting their head to the side opposite Mato's hand, nonplussed at the question.
"Forgive me." Mato pulled back, looking somewhat chagrined. "My students all have their own lives to live, and I don't make it a habit to meddle in their affairs beyond the nailarts. Even so, I… I can't help but worry."
There was no masking the fatherly concern in Mato's face. Hollow huffed in embarrassment and cast their eyes down and to the side. Oh, but they suddenly wished they could hide from that kindness.
"You look more tired and careworn each time I see you. Hornet tells me your sleep lately has been fitful at best, nonexistent at worst. That when you do sleep you choose to do so apart from your kin, or until you work yourself to exhaustion. And that you won't take any medicine to ease your insomnia or to even speak to your sister on the subject.
"I- She- Well, we're all starting to wonder if you're not taking ill, if there's something wrong that you won't tell us. If perhaps it may even be a result of your imprisonment-"
"Stop," Hollow signed sharply, the side of their right hand striking their left palm with a dull snap of carapace-on-carapace. Their breath came sharp and ragged in their throat, and it was everything they could do to maintain eye contact with Mato. The nailmaster pulled back and for his part looked stricken, but he did not continue speaking.
It was a long minute or two before the ichor stopped rushing in their shell. When they gathered themself again, it was to cast an apologetic expression at the other.
"Forgive me, teacher," they continued. "I should not speak so harshly. Hornet has spoken to you truly, although I wish she had not."
They sighed, a long and tired exhale that rattled in their chest. "I know your intentions are good. But this… If this is an illness, there is no herb or technique that will cure it. Nor would I have you or my kin be harmed in a misguided albeit well-meaning bid to help me."
"But if you are hurting," Mato interjected, "if you are suffering, don't you think standing idly by and watching harms us just as much? Even if we are not bound by blood, we are your family, Hollow. What grieves you grieves us all."
He gently held Hollow's cheek again, the gesture as pleading as his tone. "Let us help you, please..."
They covered his hand with their own, closing their eyes and they leaned into the touch. Yet they would speak no more on the subject. Already they were withdrawing further and further into themself, weariness of the body as much as the pain of the heart pulling them into torpor.
This is my burden to bear, and mine to bear alone, Hollow told themself. So many have been hurt because I could not be strong enough.
They shuddered but otherwise did not struggle as they felt Mato's strong arms pull them close. They let themselves be arranged like a ragdoll, he made to lay against the nailmaster's side. Head gently propped up in what part of Mato's lap was left unoccupied, and a warm blanket thrown over their body.
"Forgive me, my child," Mato murmured quietly. "Rest now."
I will not let the ones I love suffer in that way again.
His hand rubbed back and forth over Hollow's temple as he hummed an old lullaby. So Hollow eventually fell asleep, in comfort if not in peace.
I will die first.