Nya knows she's being unfair.
She knows this is for the best. She knows she's only ten and there are plenty of people that have it way worse than her, so she should stop acting like a big dumb baby about this.
But as she watches her brother drag their two lonesome suitcases outside, Nya really wishes she was someone else.
oOo
She doesn't remember much of her early childhood. Her first memory is barely a flicker. An image of a woman's face. Kind, dark eyes and a warm smile. Her mother, Nya thinks.
She can remember the prickling of grass on her bare knees and her hand around Kai's thumb. Sometimes there are flashes. Strange adults in the house, murmuring voices.
The rest of those distant years are blurry. Nya can't picture her parents in her head, she has to rely on the handful of photographs that Kai's hung on to over the years.
There are a few warbled, hazy memories of her father reading stories about dragons. Different myths and legends, fairytales and fables.
Nya remembers a lot of loneliness and nightmares, rough hands and not-so-warm smiles. She doesn't remember home. The only home she knows now is Uncle Liam's one-story abode on the outskirts of Ignacia
Nya doesn't remember her parents because they died when she was three years old—or so she assumes. It makes sense, she supposes, since they haven't come back and it's been a little over seven years.
Parents don't just disappear like that. Though that's the term everyone likes to use around her.
Disappeared.
As if it's somehow more optimistic than died.
At any rate, Kai tells her that their parents are gone for good, and she believes him. Kai's never been one to hold onto false hope.
The two of them have been living with Liam since Nya was a toddler, with the occasional visit from Mamali Grumbmiller—a wretched old woman sometimes enlisted to "babysit."
Nya can't imagine life outside of here, though she often assumes it's much better. Anywhere would be better than here. The one bright spot is the bookshelf in the living room, stocked full of interesting literature that she's not supposed to touch.
Books about building things and cooking and history. Some were stories about magical creatures and thrilling adventures. She learned to read in school, back when her uncle let her and Kai attend. That was before Liam pulled them out to "help with the farm."
Which was bull, of course, since Liam's "farm" consisted of an abandoned barn house and an empty chicken coop.
Kai says Liam just got sick of taking them to the village and back every weekday.
But that never stopped Nya from learning. She dug through all Liam's books, plus the small collection in town. Whatever she learned, she taught Kai too—except math. Kai has always detested math.
It's not proper school, but it'll do.
That's just the tip of Liam's angry iceberg. He'd never been the gentlest man, and certainly not the friendliest. Nya often wondered if he was really related to them at all.
Once, when Nya was eight, Liam came home acting strangely, and Kai told Nya to wait in their room (a glorified shoebox of a space, crammed off the side of the hallway). She did, of course, but she could still hear everything going on behind the door. And later that night, when she caught sight of the bruise around Kai's left eye, Nya knew things were taking a serious turn for the worse.
"It's fine," he had said. "Can't even feel it."
Nya was quick to learn and slow to act. Kai was quick to act and slow to learn. That's why Nya soon realized Liam had a drinking problem. Her brother, however, absorbed all the anger and threw it right back.
Liam would barge through the door, shaking the walls. Kai would give her The Look, meaning she was supposed to flee the scene. So Nya sat with her back pressed to the bedroom door, listening with wide eyes, heart pounding against her ribs.
Liam shoved Kai around and yelled and threw things across the room, and Kai yelled back. He was always doing dangerous stuff like that. Always fighting back.
Nya loved him for it. But she was also terrified for him.
There was nothing she could do, Kai said. If she tried to help, she'd be in trouble, too. So Nya stayed put, curled up in the patch of moonlight on the floor, hands slapped over her ears.
Until just about two days ago, when it all escalated rather abruptly.
Liam came home much later than usual, flinging the front door open with a heavy shove. The sound woke the siblings, who'd been asleep in their shared room, but they didn't think much of it. Liam's rampages were old news. He'd probably go straight to bed anyway.
They were wrong.
Ten blissful seconds of silence were shattered by an abrupt pounding on the bedroom door. Nya tensed, pulling the blanket over her head.
"Kai! Open the damn door, you little prick! I wanna know what this mess in the kitchen is."
When Liam was drunk, he never slurred words or stumbled over his own feet. He just got mad. Mad about the tiniest things. Things like the two plates sitting in the sink, left from when Kai and Nya ate dinner earlier.
"Hey. Hey! Come clean this shit up. KAI." A solid thud rattled the door and Kai heaved a sigh, rolling out of bed.
Nya poked her head out of the covers.
"Where're you going?" she whispered frantically.
Kai turned to her. "I'm gonna wash the dishes. I'll be really fast, okay? Just—stay here."
Nya frowned, but nodded.
She counted the seconds, chest rising and falling shallowly. Kai was gone for one minute. Two. Four. And the voice outside grew louder. Liam was booming and raging, spouting a lot of words Nya probably wasn't supposed to know.
But Kai was silent.
"You and your brat sister are dumb as a doornail, you know that?" Liam hollered.
Doornail? That was a new one. But Nya understood "dumb" and she narrowed her eyes because rude.
"C'mon, boy. You mute, too? Usually can't getcha to shut up. Now you wanna play games? Well come on, answer me."
No reply from Kai. Nya carefully pushed the blanket back, swinging her legs out of bed. Danger prickled on the back of her neck.
"I said answer me." Then something shattered.
Nya's heart leapt to her throat as she rushed to the door and threw it open. She dashed to the kitchen and stopped short. Kai was standing by the sink, hands at his head.
Then Nya saw the blood.
"Kai . . . ?" Her voice was foreign to her own ears, as though it were coming from far away.
Streaks of red dripped from Kai's scalp, falling to the cold hardwood. Nya's eyes went to the floor. White, ceramic shards lay scattered at Kai's feet.
Pieces of a plate, she realized.
The edges of her vision blurred. Something hot was spreading inside her and Nya figured it must be her own blood boiling.
Liam turned to her suddenly. "Get in there." He jabbed a calloused finger at the bedroom. "Right the hell now."
She wanted to. Nya would've loved to turn on her heel and run the other way. She'd read about "fight or flight," the instinct to either flee or face danger head-on. Might be time to choose flight.
But her brother was wiping blood off his forehead and Nya had never felt that way before. Like she could dismantle someone with her bare hands.
"What'd I say, kid? Room. Now."
Wasn't adrenaline supposed to kick in sometime? Hers must have been malfunctioning. Nya couldn't move.
"Get the hell outta here!"
Nya could barely hear Liam anymore. Her eyes were on Kai's and he looked desperate. Like he was begging her to leave.
At last, Nya found her mouth forming a word.
"No." Barely a breath. Almost too feathery to be tangible.
Kai's expression hardened, trying to be authoritative. I'm serious about this, it said.
"What'd you just say to me?" Liam hissed, and Nya turned to look at him instead.
"I said no." And she knew there was no turning back.
Nya focused on breathing. If she didn't breathe, she might erupt like the volcanoes she read about last week. Something vile was simmering right in her chest. She could reach in and grab it if she wanted.
Liam leveled his finger at her. "Did yer brother teach you to talk back?"
Kai tried to interject, but Liam waved a threatening hand at him, too close for comfort. "Nah, nah, yer sister's a big girl. She can answer for herself."
Nya swallowed, eyebrows lowering. "Did you hit him?"
"You idiot kids think you can mouth off whenever—"
"You're always hitting him."
"Now don't go accusin' me of any bullshit—"
Liam moved forward and Nya stepped in front of Kai. One of his hands nudged the back of her shoulder, urging her to stand down.
"Back to your room," Liam ordered.
"You're hurting him."
"It's called discipline, kid, and I can discipline you too, so step aside."
Kai was pushing now, but Nya planted her feet more firmly into the floorboards, remembering all that stuff she read about friction. A drop of Kai's blood splashed onto the back of her heel.
"You're always hurting him and he just lets you," Nya yells. "But I won't let you."
This had gone on for far too long. Kai wasn't going to stop it. He was going to absorb it and get hurt by it so she wouldn't have to. Nya wasn't gonna allow it anymore.
Liam peered down at her, eyes blazing. "Alright, kid."
Then she was being yanked aside and shoved. Something slid under her foot and Nya yelped, careening into the edge of the kitchen counter. For a moment, everything was loud and dark.
When she cracked her eyes open, head throbbing, Nya saw Kai and her uncle topple to the floor. She knew at once that Kai had lunged.
"Get off," Liam bellowed, rolling on his back. Kai was yelling, too, but all Nya could focus on was the flurry of limbs as the two of them tumbled across the rug.
Liam flung Kai to the right. Nya felt another flash of panic as she thought about the size difference. Kai was only thirteen, he couldn't hold his own in this fight for long. He never could. But her skull was pounding and she couldn't get herself to sit up.
"Little bastard!"
She heard Kai cry out in pain again. That sick, simmering feeling was back.
Then, like a misty afterthought, the adrenaline kicked in.
Nya knew because she was running across the room.
She threw herself into the fray, clawing at Liam before he could swing at Kai again.
"Leave him alone," Nya was screaming. "Leave him alone!"
Now thoroughly overwhelmed, Liam grasped her arm, tossing her into the back of the couch. It hurt, but not as much as seeing the blood all over the floor. What was bleeding so much? Or who?
Her thoughts were swimming. Nya couldn't quite hear the yelling anymore, it was all muddling together. A single objective flashed in the foreground.
Stop the fight.
So she was on her feet again, snatching a jagged shard of broken plate from the ground. Liam was bent over Kai, who was squirming to get loose.
If you asked Nya what had happened next, she wouldn't exactly be able to say. All she knew was that one moment, she was running toward Liam. The next moment, Kai was dragging her backwards, yelling, "Stop! Nya, stop! That's enough!"
Liam wailed, clutching one arm. Blood trickled through his fingers, exposing the wound underneath. Kai had to pry the shard from Nya's trembling fingers. It was at about that moment that Nya came back to herself.
She took in the scene around them. Broken dishware littering the floor, her battered uncle, her bruised brother. And . . . bloody footprints everywhere.
Nya realized Kai was talking to her.
"—hurt? Nya. Look at me. Does it hurt?"
She found his eyes. "I—"
"C'mon, we gotta stop the bleeding. Can you stand?"
All at once, an agonizing pain made itself known.
Nya winced, looking to see what Kai was fussing about. Her breath hitched.
Her left foot was sliced open on the bottom. Fresh blood pulsed from the cut. She must've slipped on a sharp piece of the broken plate earlier.
Kai was trying to lift her from under the arms.
New panic seized her.
"No, no!" She shrugged Kai off. "Don't! Just lift it up. Lift it up and put pressure on it."
The shrillness of her tone must have scared Kai, too, because he acted quickly. He propped Nya's foot on the couch and climbed onto the cushions, pushing a blanket onto the wound.
Images flashed in Nya's memory, snippets of information. Scary cuts like that weren't good. She might've sliced a very important vein, and if that was the case . . . well. They had mere minutes.
In fact, now that she thought about it, she was feeling sort of lightheaded . . .
"Nya, don't. Keep your eyes open."
"Are you okay?" Nya finally managed. Kai had an ugly mark under his eye, plus a few nasty-looking scratches along the collarbone.
"I'm okay, Nya, I'm fine. Here, help me with this."
Together, they were able to tie Kai's pajama shirt around Nya's foot, which mostly stopped the bleeding. Liam, after writhing and groaning a while, stormed out the front door with a string of curses.
Nya sprawled back, keeping her foot elevated on the couch. Kai sat with her, watching in concerned silence.
He raked a hand through his hair. Flecks of dried blood still adorned one temple. "Why did you do that?"
"Do what."
"You know what. Do you even realize what just happened? You stabbed him, Nya."
"No I didn't."
Kai balked, tilting his head at her. "Uh—yeah, you did. Three times. With a broken plate."
She couldn't recall. Nya just remembered the red-hot anger and Kai pulling her away.
For a while, she just thought about that.
Then, "Are you mad?"
Kai scoffed. "Mad? No. But I wish . . ."
"What?"
"I dunno." He glanced over with tired eyes. "I wish things were different. I mean . . . what were you thinking?"
Nya searched for patterns in the popcorn ceiling. What had she been thinking? Perhaps nothing at all.
No, definitely something. Something new and raw and sickening.
"I was thinking . . . that he's a bully. And that I wasn't gonna let him bully you anymore."
Kai said nothing, just reached over and tousled her hair.
Her foot stung and her head ached and the lower half of her back felt close to snapping in two . . . but Nya felt amazing. Like she had just dropped a massive weight.
For the first time, she felt useful. And accomplished. And satisfied.
"You're lucky you didn't cut an artery," said Kai.
"I know."
"Think he'll be back?"
Nya shook her head. "Not tonight."
The next day, Nya woke up to Kai throwing clothes into an open suitcase.
"What're you doing?" she asked, blinking sleep from her eyes. It certainly had not been a restful night.
Kai didn't look up. "Packing."
"Why?"
"We're leaving."
Nya lingered on the word, trying to process it. Leaving? As in, leaving this house? For good?
They couldn't do that. Where else would they go? Would they have to sleep on park benches and steal hotdogs from people, like in those movies Liam watched sometimes?
"Are we coming back?"
Kai chucked a red sneaker into the growing pile. "Heck no."
Frowning, Nya kicked off the sheets and gently slid to the floor—her foot was still in precarious territory, but they had patched it up well enough last night.
Kai zipped up his suitcase and dragged another one out of the closet. The luggage must belong to Liam, 'cause Nya had never used a suitcase in her life.
At length, Nya ventured, "Where are we going?"
"Home."
Kai said it like it was obvious. Like she should've expected nothing less.
Nya didn't trust many people. She lived life on a moment-to-moment basis, never quite sure how things would turn out. But she always trusted Kai.
So that's why, another day later, Nya is standing in the driveway, squinting against the wind that whips her long hair around. Kai is dragging a suitcase in each hand, all the way to Liam's truck, where he hoists them up and tosses them in the trunk.
Liam's arm is bandaged, still pretty gnarly-looking in places. He comes up behind Nya.
"You two won't last a week," he says. Nya wants to turn around and shove him down the steep bluff.
Minutes later, she's sitting in the backseat of the truck, knees pulled up to her chest, while Kai gawks out the window. Countryside passes in a lazy crawl.
He seems so serene. So sure that they're going to be okay. Nya herself is having some doubts.
Yes, living with Liam was miserable, but it's better than living nowhere at all. At least Liam's house has a roof and books and working AC.
But she trusts Kai. She always trusts Kai. If he says they're going to be fine, it must be true. Kai's responsible. They both are.
Maybe she'll get used to their new life. No angry men banging on the door late at night. No yelling . . .
The unknown is so unreliable. That's what Nya hates the most.
When Liam pulls up to their new (or—old?) home, Nya presses her face against the window. It's . . .
Small. Not much to look at.
Just a simple, boxy setup, with some thatched awning jutting out on one side. That must be the forge Kai always talks about. He says the two of them are going to run the blacksmith shop to support themselves.
Nya's not so sure about that.
The siblings hop out of the truck and grab their belongings. Liam tosses Kai a rusty key and says, "Don't come crying to me when this doesn't work out."
Kai makes a face. "We won't, don't worry."
The truck drives away.
As Kai fumbles with the lock and key, Nya analyzes their new surroundings. Just like the house, it's not much to look at. There are lots of winding roads and knobby hills, patches of farmland scattered throughout. Land slants drastically downward on one side, dropping into a low ravine. The sparse trees are a fresh spring green. It's quiet.
Do they have neighbors? She can't see any other houses from here. There are some white dots off in the distance—maybe sheep? Looks like the closest residence is a while away.
Suddenly, Nya feels very small.
"Got it," exclaims Kai, swinging the door open. It creaks with years of weathering. For a moment, Nya forgets her concerns.
This is where she lived as a little kid. It's where her parents worked and ate and slept and raised her and Kai. Where everything started.
A distinct sort of sadness lingers in the air, drifting out from inside like the memories are still here, waiting to be cherished again.
The rest just smells like dust and stale earth.
Kai and Nya stand in the doorway, not quite inside.
"Who's first?" asks Kai. His voice is unnaturally soft.
Nya isn't about to walk in there alone, not when it's all dark and spooky. Normally Kai would offer to do the scary thing, but today he looks—nervous. So Nya grabs his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
"We go together," she decides.
As one, they enter.
Without any proper lighting, the room is hard to see. Cobwebs hang from every corner and crevice. It's cold, brisk with abandonment. Dusty furniture casts long shadows across the floor.
A chill creeps up Nya's arms.
"Feels like home," Kai offers, glancing around.
"Sure . . ."
Thus begins the cleaning. They spend the rest of the day fixing up what they can, lighting candles and sweeping floors. Kai finds Nya and hands her the broom.
"Knock down some of those webs," he says. Before she can object, Kai has already scuttled away to open up the windows. Nya sighs, defeated.
Later that night, Nya finds herself standing in the doorway of a tiny room down the hall. There's a little bed inside, red curtains hanging from the window. Kai is off somewhere unpacking, so she steps in the room.
A familiar sensation sweeps over her.
It's her old bedroom. She feels it. The bed could've fit five-year-old Kai, but the far wall has been painted. It's a mural of butterflies, spiraling out from the center.
Nya runs her fingers over the artwork. Had her mother painted this? The chill is back, and it brought a friend. Something sad.
There are no photos on the little bedside table. No mirror or clothes or toys. Nothing from the life Nya could've had—the one that was stolen from her.
But it's her room. She could sleep here tonight. Gosh, Nya can't remember the last time she slept somewhere away from Kai. He'll probably be just down the hall, but still.
She likes the house. It's nice. It belonged to her family and that's . . . worth holding onto. But the idea of living here with just Kai? No adults?
They'll be shouldering every responsibility, miles away from any proper civilization. It's like the world keeps doubling in size and Nya is only shrinking.
"Boo," says Kai from the hall.
She jumps, whirling on him.
"Don't."
"What, are you scared of the dark?"
"Cut it out, Kai."
"Fine, geez." Kai lingers a moment, watching her. "Hey, are you okay?"
Nya feels him step closer; she can usually tell when Kai is trying to sneak up on her. The heat gives him away. He's always been his own personal furnace. Nya envies him—she's always cold.
When she doesn't answer, Kai touches her shoulder.
"We're gonna be fine. You know that, right?" He nudges her gently. "Promise."
"Why are we here?" Nya asks. "We don't have any money, or food, or—electricity . . ."
Kai sighs. "We're here 'cause Liam was dangerous. And you deserve better than that."
"So do you."
"Yeah, but—" He pauses. "I dunno. You've always been smart. You should have better opportunities. See more of the world. Y'know?"
Better opportunities? Nya thinks of their new financial situation. Where will they get money? Surely blacksmiths don't make a fortune, why else would her parents have lived in this little rustic corner?
As if reading her mind, Kai says, "We have money."
Nya raises a challenging eyebrow. "Where?"
"Right here." From his pocket, Kai whips out a black leather wallet, cash poking out of the folds. Nya gapes. That's Liam's wallet.
"You didn't."
"Oh, I did." Kai pockets the wallet again. "It's enough to get us started. We'll get the shop running again, no problem. I'll teach you how to do everything."
Nya fights the urge to roll her eyes. Blacksmithing is rather low on her list of interests, but she's read plenty about it. It's lots of fire and bending metal and hammering. Booooriiiiing.
"Found your room, huh?" Kai says, glancing around curiously. "I found something, too. C'mere."
She trails Kai into a different room, this one shrouded in shadow with the windows all covered. A king-sized bed is crammed in one corner, an antique vanity in the other.
Their parents' room.
Kai pulls Nya over to the mirror, gesturing around like a ringmaster in his grand circus.
"Check this out," he says. "Don't you think we look like them?"
As Nya peers into the dusty glass, she can see Kai's point. The two of them could be younger, shorter versions of their mom and dad. It's a little creepy, almost.
"I guess," she says.
"I came here for a fresh start. Now we don't have to be what Liam wants. We can be whatever we want."
It's a profound statement from her usually air-headed big brother. Nya's starting to feel a bit better about this. But a few moments later, Kai pulls a drawer open and takes out a pair of glinting scissors.
Instinctively, Nya backs up.
"Wanna go first? Or should I?" Kai asks.
"Wh—what do you mean?"
"A new start calls for a new look, right?"
It clicks and Nya's mouth falls open. "Kai. We're not cutting our hair, that's stupid—"
Kai gives her a wink. He turns to the mirror—and starts hacking at his mess of brown waves. Nya cries out, grabbing for the scissors and failing. She can only watch, horrified, as Kai finishes.
His hair is in jagged disarray, poking out at hazardous angles. Nya briefly thinks of a porcupine that stuck its foot in a power socket.
Kai models for her jokingly, running a hand through the new style. He's never looked so confident.
"That's what I'm talkin' about," he says.
He likes it. Of course he would, he's crazy. No way is she letting him do that to her hair, not in a million years—
"C'mon, Nya," he begs. "We can be new people now! You always said you wanted something to change. Well, here's your chance."
Nya eyes him, then her reflection. She examines one long strand of hair. Kai's acting like hair is a symbol, like it represents something bigger. Their past, their parents. She's not leaping at the chance to possibly ruin her hair, but now that Kai's done it . . .
Is she a little jealous?
Maybe she does want to be new. She wants a change.
"I guess . . . hair grows back," she mumbles.
"Don't think, just do." Kai hands her the scissors. "Now or never, sis."
She holds the tool like it might bite her. Carefully, Nya steps up to the mirror. She pulls all her hair over one shoulder, grasped in one hand. How short does she want it? Short, or super short?
Kai interrupts. "You're taking too long."
"Well—I don't wanna screw it up."
"Here, lemme do it." He takes the scissors.
"Kai—!"
But it's too late. He snatches her hair and—
Snip!
Nya squeezes her eyes shut and doesn't open them until Kai shoves her arm.
"Look," he says. "C'mon, it's not bad."
One eye cracks open. Then the other. Nya's jaw falls.
Her hair is super short. Like, above her shoulders short.
She runs her fingers through it. It's lighter, more swishy. Nya hardly recognizes herself.
"It looks great," Kai smiles. "Ready to start over?"
Is she? Nya meets her own eyes in the mirror's reflection, searching for a shred of her brother's optimism. Maybe . . .
Maybe together they stand a fighting chance.