Chapter 4

A Departure, An Arrival

My thoughts weighed heavily on me as I left the cottage as early as usual, nearly two months after the bear had come. I thought of how strange Wen had been acting, her tendency to become distracted from spinning, gazing listlessly at a random corner of the room or, more often, at the bear. I thought for a long time that she was ill, but when I questioned her she told me she was not and said nothing more. She had become as close-mouthed as Mother, and I found myself filling the silence with banal chatter about the signs of spring approaching. Wen and I had never kept secrets before, but I knew there was something she was not telling me.

As I walked deeper into my green refuge I recalled the evening I had come home and griped about the return of the frost. I remembered that Wen was near the fire, in front of the bear, and had been concentrating rather hard on something before my entrance distracted her. Was she forming some sort of bond with the beast? I threw my hands in the air in frustration. If only she would tell me, I thought, oh, I hate her silence. I reached one of my favorite trees in the forest. It was a great oak that had stood there for centuries. Wen and I called her the Duchess though she was not the largest of the trees in the forest, but she had grown stately and graceful. We had spent many long hours underneath her shade and within her branches. I stepped up to the wide trunk and spread my arms around her, resting my forehead on her bark, made cool by the moisture of the coming spring. I would often do this when I wanted to collect my thoughts. More often, Wen and I had measured our growth by each embracing one side and seeing how close our hands were to touching. The last time we measured, our hands had grasped each other's firmly. The feel of her porcelain white hands in mine and our arms tight around the great Duchess made me complete. That day, I felt such a sense of maturity and closeness with Wen, and now I could feel both slipping through my fingers.

Suddenly I heard her cry, from behind me, the direction of home, "No, you cannot!" And I turned on my heel and ran out of the trees. Mother has gone to Coedbryn, I thought, she is alone. Has the beast turn on us at last? I knew this was unfair, but I could think of nothing else as the cause of Wen's distress. When I neared the cottage I saw the Bear determinedly ambling out of the doorway and down through Mother's vegetable garden. Wen was scrambling after him, pulling desperately on his fur. She seemed to be trying to turn his head around to face her. I came to a stop at the entrance to the front garden as Wen spoke again, this time calmer, "I shall go with you then, Thanos."

My heart skipped a beat at her words. Leave, I thought, for the bear? My mind raced back to that same day, the day the frost returned was the day she had changed. She had been distracted since the bear came, but that day she had become more distant. It was as though I had my arms wrapped around her in sleep and she was slowly removing herself from my unconscious embrace. She had nearly succeeded before I awoke. I suddenly realized the implications of her statement. The entirely foreign prospect of her leaving frightened me enormously. What if she were not to return? I would be alone. I knew in my soul that I could not allow her to leave me, it was selfish but it was also self-preservation. "Wen," I shouted, "What are you talking about? Why would you go with him?" as the Bear slowly turned around to face her. I saw their eyes meet and knew they had formed a bond, that she had without any doubt meant what she said. I shouted again at her, "Wen, promise me you will not go with him! Don't leave the mountain, don't leave the forest, don't leave me! Sister, promise me!" I nearly screamed at her for her gaze still did not break from the bear's.

The beast himself broke their silent conversation. He turned to me and our eyes met for the first time. I searched the unusually blue-brown depths for the magic my sister had discovered there and knew that I could not find it. But I could discern a near humanity in them and I felt that he did not want her to leave either. As I was searching his face he slowly approached me and I finally stepped aside to let him pass, allowing my eyes turn to my mirror, my light side.

"Oh, my dear, you will know more than I what he wants. I am sorry I did not see before what has happened between you. I cannot pretend to understand it, but I am sure you will tell me when you are ready. Let him go, he will return. I know it." I spoke these words softly as I neared her. Wen was not looking at me. I saw her eyes follow the Bear as he went into the green. I concentrated all of my attention on her, feeling the frustration emanating from her, like she would shatter at any second.

"You do not know that he will return," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I do not know it, how can you? He has some dangerous task. That I know, and you have prevented me from aiding him."

"Wen!" I cried, "He did not want your aid. I know that he only wants your safety, how could he allow you to come if it so dangerous? He is a noble beast. You should not belittle his sacrifice…whatever it is." That last part I said quitetly, in order to soften the blow. I knew she was hurting and had only lashed out at me from frustration and loss. It was something she needed to hear. I was ready when she turned and crumpled, sobbing into my shoulder.

When she was composed enough, she spoke these words softly into my tear soaked chest, "This would not be so difficult if I only understood the nature of these feelings that have grown so quickly. How can I hold such an intense love for an animal? But how can I call him that when I have seen his intelligent reactions to what just happened? There have been many days that I doubted my sanity, because you never noticed Thanos' strangeness. But you have now…you have looked into his eyes?" We had long before sunk to the cold stone of the cottage's entrance. Wen was nearly lying in my lap. She pulled slightly away from me, looking questioningly into my face.

"Yes," I said solemnly, "they are not the eyes of a normal bear. I could not speculate, though, on what that means."

"They used to be more strange. They were the most glorious shade of blue the first night…when I nearly fainted. Lyn, they are turning brown. Our…connection was never as strong as the first night. It is as if the bear part of him is seeping into his eyes…what can that mean? What if? …oh this is making both my head and heart ache." She pressed her face into my lap and I let one hand fall to her trembling shoulders and the other to press into her silken curls, the color of wool left unspun.

I leaned my tired back into the doorframe, "Wen, we must leave Thanos to his own devises. Regardless of his origins, he is a beast of the forest, it is his element. I am sure he will be fine. Let us go into the house. You must be weary, I will make you something warm to drink and you can get some sleep. I will do your chores for today, Mother will not be shorthanded." I helped her up and into bed and puttered around the house until Mother's arrival later in the evening. She would often go to Coedbryn for the day, to hear news of the countries in the south and buy things we could not make or find in the forest.

When she entered I did not wait until she put down her basket to flatly state, "The Bear left today." I took her in, curling red hair, lightened with sun and age, still thin from life on the mountain but slightly shorter than Wen and I, and her familiar kind face. I had guessed long ago it masked pain and secrets she felt she needed to protect us from.

"Oh?" she returned.

"Come Mother," I kept my voice low but intense in an attempt to let Wen sleep through the coming arguement, "You knew he would. Wen is distraught. You knew that would happen, too. I know that you know things that you are not telling us, I know that you think you need to protect us, but don't you realize she will be hurt the same anyway? Maybe even more! If you know anything Mother, please!"

At that she stepped into the room and pulled me tightly to her, "Oh my darling, my Rhoslyn, my darkling, there is nothing I can tell you that would help either you or her in anyway. It would only add to your confusion. We can only wait and watch for the real answers to come to us." She pulled back and turned towards the loft where I had left Wen, "I shall go talk to her, dear, would you fix me something small to eat. The baker's wife kindly gave me some lunch this afternoon but I have grown hungry from the walk. Make something for yourself also, I know you have not eaten anything." And she calmly began climbing the step ladder to Wen.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, Mother and I ate silently and later I silently climbed into bed with Wen, slipping my arms comfortingly around her before drifting off to sleep. My dreams were a haze of green and red and deep, deep blue.

I woke the next morning, tired and groggy. I knew that I would not feel right until I was immersed in the life of the forest. I quickly donned my clothes and climbed down to the main floor of the cottage, dimly registering Wen toiling like mad in the kitchen. She is probably trying to divert herself… how alike we are, I thought with a half smile as I grabbed a fresh biscuit and nearly ran out the door and into the green. I decided, since I was looking for a diversion, to aggressively weed one of the many patches of wild herbs I kept throughout the forest. I settled on one at the edge of a large clearing, farther into the wood. As I silently picked my familiar way through the dense trees a wave of unease spread over me and I grew wary. Years spent in the wood had trained me to know when there was danger, but that was not what I sensed. The sounds of the forest had faded and as I neared the glade a foreign color appeared at the edge of my vision. After breaking out of the barrier of trees, a gasp of shock and horror escaped my lips as my gaze fell upon the form of a man, lying dead or unconscious in a still pool of his own blood.