Author's Note: I love Ferek. Really. -_- This is a little piece that's been itching me for a while, so I just said "SCREW IT, I'll write it." So I did. This is a companion piece to "Ferek's Story" (shameless plug—go read that, too! ^_^). I guess you could call this "Ferek's Thoughts After the Seventh Tower", because I'm afraid Garth Nix NEVER gave him enough attention. ;~;

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this don't belong to me. They belong to Garth Nix, a.k.a. God.

Introspection

He hadn't been the way they said he was. He wasn't like that at all, not deep down. I hated to listen to them talk about him like that—how he was so cruel, and how he hated everything. I couldn't bear it, but I couldn't speak up, because nobody listened to me and when they did they didn't believe me.

I was perfectly all right with that, though, because he was always there. He would listen, and he knew how I knew him so well—better than the others, perhaps better than anyone, save Bennem. I suppose I understood him, for I'd been there since the beginning, since the founding of the Freefolk. He'd been more like himself then, open, caring, and he let people get to him. He showed us all his scars, and let us tend to his wounds—they were so similar to mine.

Back then… he was Crow. He wasn't the ruthless leader of the Freefolk he had become.

The others came later, and with their stories Crow's hatred grew. We each had our scars, our spiteful memories of the Chosen, and our tales to tell. Still, however awful the things Gill, Clovil, and the others had been through, they were rather different from mine… and Crow's. We were the same, and for a while we were the closest of the Freefolk. Then, eventually, we all became inseparable—it was wonderful. The Freefolk had each other, and that was good enough for me… but Crow—he needed more. His lust for blood… Chosen's blood… grew with the rage he felt for them after hearing what they'd done to our companions. After a while, he ceased to be the Crow I knew.

I still remember it all very well—the time before he'd lost himself, that is. During the early Freefolk days it was Crow and I, me and Crow, despite all my constant terror—the Hall of Nightmares had its effect. Crow didn't mind, and when I was frightened he'd comfort me; he'd hug me or pat me gently and tell me it was simply my imagination gone rampant again. It would be okay then—my fear lessened.

And then he stopped even those simple actions. Crow began to scold me, and he never hugged me anymore. I miss it still… I miss him.

Time passed and I grew accustomed to my newfound solitude and constant fear. Gill and Clovil were kind to me, but never to Crow. They could never find respect for him, for he only showed him his second side, not the Crow I'd known.

They never knew, because then he was gone.

The Chosen boy and the girl from outside the Castle returned without him on that fateful day. With the trembling fear in my gut I already figured the inevitable—but I would not accept it.

The Crones healed me of my nightmarish terror that remained from the Hall of Nightmares, but another nightmare had begun—my brother, my savior, my Crow was dead.

The halls of the Castle were free to roam now, and life was better materialistically, for the Chosen had ended their terrible reign over us—I suppose that much I have to be thankful for. I was given a room to myself, near what used to be the Hall of Violet, with a window view any other Chosen could kill for.

But I cried, alone, for I had never been able to see him again—I had never seen the Crow I knew, and I wished he would hold me like a brother just once more.

Such was impossible, I knew… but I dreamed and cried and longed in my own time, hoping no one would take notice. But there are those who have a natural instinct of taking notice of people who don't want to be noticed, and indeed, someone noticed.

I sat alone in my chamber, at the window. Like a baby I cried for him, for the umpteenth time, and cursed myself bitterly as I did so.

The door opened silently and the footsteps made no sound. I never heard her come into the room, and had no time to prepare a decent defense, or even to wipe away my shameful tears.

"Boy."

The voice was gentle, but I jumped and yelped as though still possessed by Fashnek's spell. Whirling around, I met the soft, blue eyes of that Crone girl—Malen.

She was regarding me without a word, though worry played across her features. I knuckled at my saline eyes and glared at her, almost the way Crow would have if intruded upon. At this, Malen's stare broke, and she blinked.

"You… you were not related to Crow… correct?"

I gaped at her. For a moment I hated her and the way she could read me, the way all Crones seemed to, and I wished she would leave me alone. "No. I was not…"

Malen paused briefly and cast a skittish glance to the door, perhaps making sure that no one was eavesdropping. Then she moved beside me and leaned against the window, looking at me almost sadly, her silver-blonde hair hanging in her face. A melancholy smile touched her lips—they were pale, as though still touched by the snow she'd grown up in—and she asked, "Why do you mourn him so?"

"I do not!" I retorted immediately, turning away. My eyes stung again and I refused to let myself look back. Besides, what business was it of hers? She'd not known Crow as I had—she was probably like Gill and Clovil, and wanted to reprimand me for crying for him so long after his death. I put my chin on the windowsill and kept my gaze averted.

The young Crone was calm as ever, and it irked me—I had at least expected her to give up and leave. I severely underestimated her patience, and she smiled sadly once more. "Do not lie, Ferek—I have seen you cry for him. Why? He wouldn't want this—Crow's greatest desire was to give you freedom. Would he want you to cry, Ferek, when he wanted only to grant you happiness…?"

I felt myself trembling by then, but tensed by body in an attempt to make it less noticeable. Still, I knew I was caving, and slowly I replied, "We were supposed to share it. From the beginning—we fought together for this."

"And now you believe that you cannot have what Crow wanted for you… without Crow himself."

Against my will my head whipped around and I glared at her hatefully. "Why are you asking me this--? I don't need your help. I will deal with this myself—just leave me alone."

She seemed unaffected, though her eyes darkened subtly. Malen looked at me for a moment, studying me, and I stared back in hatred. "You remind me of him," she finally said, and at this I paused. "I did not know him well, but Crow was certainly cruel at times—"

"You don't know—" My voice was almost a hiss.

"Shh," Malen put a finger to my lips and I stopped, suddenly willing to listen to her words. I nearly shivered. "That is to say, you will remind me of him… you are becoming him, in a way. Your eyes show it—they burn with remorse and hatred."

Did they? I childishly wished for a mirror, and then realized what she was saying. I hung my head.

"Crow grew to hate because of the pain he'd been through, and the pain of those around him. He loved only his Freefolk, I could tell, and his brother. However… he attempted to show you his bad side, to keep you from caring about him—he knew his mission may cost his life, and he did not wish to cause pain with his death. It was inevitable, and tears were shed, but yours still fall, Ferek, for you saw more than his dark side."

I was crying then, the tears flowing unchecked.

"Never forget him," Malen continued, and she moved closer to me. "But do not cry for him so—it was not what he wanted. He loved you most, Ferek."

At that moment, I wished for nothing more than to have heard these words from Crow himself. If he'd said such things to me, I would have thought differently—how wrong was I to think he no longer cared!

Malen hugged me then, almost cautiously, and I was instantly tense. But I'd forgotten such a feeling, and though I remember Crow's hugs being different, I relaxed and half-closed my eyes whilst leaning gently against the windowsill. Malen was gentle, and I found a bit of comfort in knowing there was at least one person who seemed to understand.

I would never see Crow again, I knew, but I had also discovered that I should remember him in joy and not anger. I need not remember his hatred in later days, but for what he truly was—what I knew he truly was.

The Crone girl was smiling gently, and I sighed and leaned back against her, looking through the window at the other towers and wondering if Crow had ever seen the Castle from such a place—he would have thought it beautiful.

Perhaps, I thought, I can see it for him… and marvel in the freedom Crow had given me.

In my mind, I recalled Crow's smile for the first time in ages.

~*Fin*~

End Note: Excuse my sappiness and stupid babble. This was just a getting-thoughts-about-Ferek-out-on-paper fic. ^_^; This was shameless—I love giving perceptions on Ferek and Crow's relationship, and I love Malen/Ferek sisterly/brotherly fluff despite the fact that they interacted like, once in the book. =P Shut up and review.