Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia

The sky had just begun to change color on the morning of the seventh day when the siblings reached the far outskirts. Shell turned to her, seeing the light spark in her eyes. "What? Fae? What is it?"

He turned to see what she was staring at, and after a moment, her voice broke the silence, as smoke slowly began to rise into the sky and distant voices could be heard. She took a deep breath, heart in her throat, as she realized just how close to home she was now. "Il villaggio." Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. "Il mio villaggio, la mia tribù. Casa mia."

Shell repeated the words softly, slowly, before turning to her. "Your village? Is that where your tribe is?" She nodded, not meeting his gaze. "La mia famiglia, mio marito, i miei figli."

"I... mi...ei fi...gli... your... your children?" Another nod.

"Casa."

That breathless whisper was the last he heard her speak before she spurred the horse onward; a moment passed before he gave chase, urging the horse on to catch up. The wind ran its fingers through his hair and clothes, as the sky turned brilliant shades of orange and yellow on this adventurous morning. As they got closer and closer to the outskirts, the smell of smoke from cooking fires began to tickle his nose, the sound of children's voices and distant singing began to echo about, the bright colors and beauty of an Indian village come to life filled his senses. He was jolted however, as his sister tugged sharply on the reigns of Corvo to stop him, and Shell followed suit.

"What is it? Fae? What's wrong?" She turned to him, the barrier that was language failing her at this moment. But she needn't have said a word, because the meaning was clear in her dark eyes. The boy gasped slightly. "Oh."

Those beautiful dark eyes he and Nessa also possessed spoke volumes. You cannot come with me, little brother. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep contact with her. This is my tribe, not yours. You would not be welcome. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. This is as far as I allow you to go. From this point on, I must go on alone.

"I... I under... I understand, Fae."

Though he knew this moment was coming, had prepared himself mentally for it, it was the emotional he'd given no thought to. Knowing that he'd have to turn back as she went on, that this would probably be the last time he would ever see her- truly, now- tugged at his heart, for he felt as though he'd just started to get to know the woman who his sister had become in her seven years with the Arjiki, and now, they were parting forever. A moment passed, as the siblings sat in silence, before he finally turned to her. "I... I'll miss you."

She smiled softly at him. "W... will... m... mi...ss... y...ou... too." It was clumsy, uncertain, but the sentiment and honesty was there. In her broken, tattered English, the truth rang loud and clear.

Quickly, Shell nudged his horse closer to hers, reaching for her. She let him engulf her in a hug, breathing in the scent of her little brother, nudging her nose into his hair, memorizing him as best she could. He buried his face in the soft buckskin of her dress, arms wrapped tight around her waist, letting himself remember this moment and hold onto it for all eternity. This would be the last memory of his sister he would have, for he suspected he would never see her again once they parted ways. She pressed a kiss to his head, whispering softly to him.

He pulled away. "What?"

She met his gaze. "Un giorno, quando i colori del vento dipingono le praterie, ci incontreremo di nuovo, anche se non posso dire quando."

"I don't-"

But all she did was press a kiss to his forehead. "Cerca i colori del vento, fratellino. Quando arriveranno, ci rivedremo."

Then, without another word, she pulled away and nudged the horse forward. Shell watched her go; once she arrived in the camp, he turned, and with one last glance over his shoulder at his sister, he spurred the horse onward, back the way they'd come, unaware that Candle had been skulking through the bushes at that moment, searching for berries, and had stopped, entranced by the young man on the horse who'd come with her princess and now left.

Her basket forgotten, she rushed back to the camp, eager to know if Elphaba was truly back, for good this time. She reached the encampment just as Elphaba's horse rode into the village; normal routines now interrupted by the arrival of the princess. Excited chatter began to rise, as everyone gathered around; she sat atop Corvo, dark gaze searching for someone in particular. Soon though, she heard a familiar voice, and her heart began to flutter.

"Papa! Papa!"

The voice stopped, but soon, a tent flap opened, and she watched as her two oldest children hurried out of the tent; the sight of them tugging their father behind them, their little brother following behind tugged at her heart, and she swallowed, before gently nudging the horse to move forward. Her husband looked up in time to see the horse stop not far from him.

He started, surprised.

His wife sat atop her beloved rose grey, dressed not in the white man's clothes, but the buckskin dress and moccasins she had worn the day she was stolen, her long black hair pulled back into the tight, thick braids that hung over her shoulders. Woven into her hair, were four dove grey feathers, and two leather strands with brightly colored beads at the ends. Around her throat hung a necklace of beautifully delicate wood and stone, and something shone in her dark eyes; something he had not seen the last time she had returned, dressed in white man's clothes.

She slid off the horse, gaze never leaving his, even as her children rushed towards her.

"Mama! Madre!"