JUDAS
Chapter 15: Birthday
The land still felt the chill of winter along with the green of spring when the twins turned one year of age. The snow was still melting in scattered bits like a patchwork quilt upon the new, emerald-colored grass. This is when Sonic thought most about proposing to Amy, and when the boy began to talk.
As common in hedgehog society, babies give themselves names. In other words, attitudes that they may have or things that they may do determine what their names will be, and—it is believed in the hedgehog variants of the common faith of the planet—inevitably, what they will be like in the future.
The boy said very little at first, his deep purple coat striking against his yellow rain boots and tilted yellow hat, but he gradually began to talk more and more—quite the chatterbox beside his quiet little sister, who said nothing to anyone but him. Her raincoat was periwinkle, like the small tuft on her chest, and her parents let her be stark naked around the house and garden like her brother when it was appropriate. It didn't matter; it seemed she'd taken on the high need to be fashionable from her mother, even at her young age. It seemed they were always holding hands.
One day, Amy—who had lost a fair amount of her baby weight and was now quite skinny again—was sitting out on the porch, sewing a white dress for the girl (the color accented her blue coat marvelously) and adding lace and pink flowers to the chest area, rocking the wooden chair as she worked. Sonic was sleeping in a tree, out of reach of the twins. His quiet snores could sometimes be heard on the breeze. The twins were sitting in the grass below the porch, nearest arms intertwined. The boy was talking as he stroked some flowers growing by his rain boots.
"Mama, what's it like in town?" He asked. The girl was tugging at grass with her delicate hand, her fingers lashing out after a spider or butterfly. A ladybug had the nerve to catwalk on her finger, and she lifted it to her eye level, watching with bright intrigue.
"It's busy, dear." Amy answered absently, concentrating more on the dress than on the boy. Both parents had caught up on their sleep. Since the boy could now talk, he was a great alarm if his sister showed signs of her fits. And he could tell when one was coming on, and could sense its severity. Thankfully, Sonic's firm belief in twin telepathy was useful, and proved to have merit.
"Mama, I like the flowers." The boy tugged at a stubborn pink flower until it was uprooted and presented it to his sister. She giggled gleefully and hugged him, nuzzling his shoulder and purring happily. He tolerated it quite well, better than his father ever had.
"Mmmm. They're pretty." Amy was still distracted. She giggled as Sonic's snores made their way to her ears once again. The wind was picking up. The girl yawned and lay her head in her brother's laugh.
"Mama? Will you ever make me any clothes, like you make for Tessie?"
Amy started. "Who?"
The girl shot up from his lap and pressed her fingers against his tan-furred cheeks. Marteau, no. Mama mustn't know.
The boy nodded. What should I say?
The girl's face twisted in thought.
"My son, who were you talking about?!" Amy seemed in a panic, her attention now fully on her son. She almost dropped the half-finished dress on the ground in concern.
Imaginary friend. The girl decided, her emerald eyes glinting. You think the clothes Mama makes are for her.
Will she believe that, Vitesse?
It's worth a try, Marty. Mama will believe anything you say. She wants to get back to making the dress, anyway.
Okay. I trust you.
"Dear?" Amy wondered, knowing they were having a "twin moment" from the way the girl was touching his face, moving her fingers around his cheek in a soothing, commanding way, her eyes far off and glassy. When she addressed the two this last time, though, the week-younger girl snapped her hand violently from his face and concentrated her efforts on catching a butterfly that had the nerve to land on her rubber boot-clad foot. She had the speed and attention span of her cobalt-furred father, though the boy showed no traits ever found in his father. He even took the girl's pushy affection with saint-akin tolerance!
"I, uh…She's my imaginary friend, Mama. Isn't that why you make all the dresses for?" He cocked his head to one side.
Amy chuckled, taking up her sewing again. "For now. But one day, your sister will wear them."
"Okay, Mama." The boy had only slight interest in his mother's words now. He was watching his sister knot blades of grass with a single hand, her long fingers dancing over the green edges of the blade.
Amy shook her head and went back to sewing. The boy looked to his sister, and was thankful that their secret names had not been revealed.
Long before either could talk, the girl had come up for secret names for each of them based on things she had dreamed about their older selves. She was to be the feminine-sounding Vitesse, and he the masculine Marteau. They would call each other this in secret in their minds, or when they were alone, and continue this pattern until they were rightfully named.
Today was the twins' birthday, but because their parents were tired and the twins had no rightful playmates (Rio was a few months from them in age, but in development he was almost two. And, he played rough, like both his parents. So, he was out of the question for the delicate babies.), the party was small and informal. The twins feigned innocence, pretending not to know it was their birthday.
Later on, when their father was out for a run and their mother was napping, the twins locked themselves in the nursery.
Marteau locked the door, and Vitesse's fingers fled to his face, both hands groping his soft cheeks. Is the coast clear?
Mama's sleeping, and Dada's out. Dada takes forever to come back, and Mama looked tired. I suspect neither will be conscious for some time.
"Goody." Vitesse's voice was soft, like the gentle woosh of the wind when evidence of it is just barely there. It sounded so much like a little bird's song. She blew her bangs (not sticking up like her mother's, but actually an extension of fur from her quills) out of her face and folded her raincoat, setting it aside. "The mind talk is fun, but my voice tires from disuse."
"Then speak!" Marteau argued. "Mama and Dada worry enough about you cause of your troubles!" He was only very intellectual in speech within their minds, as he was only one year old.
"It matters not." Vitesse didn't have to be careful about her speech, for she never spoke aloud when her parents were around. "It is fate that I remain a public mute until the appointed time."
"When, Tessie?" Her brother was growing impatient.
"You are not to know." Vitesse replied sternly. And that was that. Vitesse was very stubborn. "Now, Marty. Do you have the sweets?"
"Yeah, I hid them in my oven." Marteau crossed the room and popped open his little toy oven. Two good-sized cupcakes and some small chocolate candies were hidden inside.
Vitesse smiled as the two divided up the sweets and ate them together, talking and laughing about things that children do.
Their parents would later find no trace of them ever having had sweets, and would have no reason to suspect two babies of any mischief, anyway.