Chapter Text
Kristin slammed the door shut behind her in time to shield herself and her baby from the sprite of fire chasing her home. She could smell charred wood and could feel the slightest burn at her fingertips, but she was rewarded with the distinct sound of a Monstrous Nightmare’s angry screech and wings beating away. Over the chaos that plagued the village at night, a distant shout of, “INCOMING!” rang out true through the village.
She waited a few seconds to be safe before removing her hand from the door and pressing it into the bundle in her arms, which hadn’t stopped wailing since the horn first sounded. She found it funny how the young babe was so sensitive to loud noises while possibly being the loudest infant she’d ever encountered.
She readjusted him so she could cradle him in the crook of her arm, cooing to him and trying to ease him to sleep. His face was red from exertion and his nose was crinkled in a way Kristin didn’t know a baby could imitate.
“Shh, Tommy,” she whispered, rocking him while walking slowly into his nursery, adjacent to his brothers’ rooms and directly below hers and her husband’s. The distant screams of their tribe were hardly a lullaby for a baby to fall asleep to, but he was a Viking and one of the Arctic’s sons—he’d have to get used to it.
“Rest, rest, Tommy,” she soothed, “nothing will hurt you.” It’s not something that a new infant will understand, and it’s not necessarily true, but it’s something she’s whispered to all of her sons, and something that was mainly to comfort her.
She stopped by the crib in time to see the boy’s wails soften enough to open his eyes, baby blue eyes staring up through tears, a near copy of his father’s eyes. His blond hair was reminiscent of his father instead of Kristin’s own dark brown curls. She hoped his hair would remain the same shade as he grew.
He whimpered again at the sound of a dragon’s wail, though this one sounded similar to a cry of pain. It ended abruptly.
She winced and rocked him again. “It’s cruel, isn’t it?” she consoled, looking her child in the eye. “How hypocritical us Vikings are for killing a starving beast. Such a waste of life.” The hut shook. “And they’re only making it worse.”
His lips puckered like he was trying to keep himself from crying. She chuckled at the face. She gripped him by the armpits and held him up to meet her gaze.
“I think you may be the only person that understands me,” she whispered, like it was a secret only the two of them shared. It would have to be if he didn’t want to face scorn when he grew older.
He started to cry more when she relinquished him to place him in the crib, tucking a toy gronckle while she was pregnant she had made closer to him. It was his favorite toy, even above the toy axe Techno had forced into the newborn’s hand.
“You have to sleep, Tommy,” she tried, kneeling between and grasping the oak bars. “Big boys sleep when their mothers tell them to, Tommy. You have to brave the night.” He screamed when something landed on the roof and caused sawdust to land in this crib. She leaned in to clean it from his cheek. He wrapped his hand around her finger before she could pull away, holding it there.
She sighed as he continued, surely straining his voice. She supposed there was no harm in letting him cry himself out, even if it was taxing.
The house creaked with every ballista, every roar, imitating a scream that had Tommy whining hard. Kristin knew better than to flinch.
She remembered when she herself was a little girl and sat whimpering in her bed, gripping her mother’s skirt to anchor her to the hut. She knew now that the action of being afraid and keeping her mother close, in the end, was what drove her away, but it had helped her to hold on to her mother until she didn’t need to, so she would remain the same for Tommy and her boys.
In the end, she thought, it was a common cold that did her in. Not a dragon.
She looked up when the hand around her finger released, instead the grubby hand reaching for the gronckle with a surprising amount of dexterity for someone so young. He wasn’t yet asleep, but it was clear he didn’t need his mother to fight the monsters right now.
She watched him pull it closer with tight hands until the chin of it rested on his face until it obscured him. He smacked his lips, or maybe he kissed it.
She smiled and reached in to briefly stroke a finger on the back of his hand.
Stay like this, she prayed. Take after me. Be the difference in the world.
The glass rattled, and when she looked up she could see sheets of snow falling off the roofs of nearby huts in globs of acceptance.
She stopped on her way out only to glance at Tommy, who was pushing the toy off his face and blowing raspberries. Or, trying. There was only so much an infant would do.
She laughed, and then she was gone.
She stumbled down the hill’s steps, ignoring the icy spread that crawled up her toes when she stepped into a puddle. Shaking off her foot, she spotted something yellow in the corner of her eye. When she turned, she was met with the peculiar sight of grass.
In the Arctic, it snowed all but two months of the year, the summers smothering and miserable enough to make you miss the quiet and blinding winter.
Until your lips turn blue and your clothes crunch when you take hold of them.
Occasionally, though, the Arctic’s pests were loud and angry, burning away their crops and snow, leaving Vikings sweating with wet, cold toes.
Running into the plaza, the sight she was met with wasn’t new. Dragons sitting atop roofs, picking at sheep, setting the grass on fire. The Vikings were just as destructive, screaming taunts, swiping at dragons and missing, swiping at dragons and hitting each other. One was trying to hit a Terrible Terror that was trying to steal his helmet, and only succeeded in hitting himself.
What draws her attention, though, is the shieldmaiden standing furthest away from her, a Deadly Nadder at her feet. An axe sat poised on her shoulder, her head straight forward like she was giving the final soliloquy of the poor thing’s life.
Kristin’s feet started to carry her as the woman brought her axe up. She dazedly watched while she raced as the axe cut through the air, downward, displacing smoke, and the dragon’s eyes became darker and darker…
She grabbed the shieldmaiden’s wrist halfway through the weapon’s arch.
“Stop,” she gasped. “It’ll only make it worse.”
The shieldmaiden hesitates long enough for the Nadder to stand and take its escape, leaving behind some spikes for the two women to dodge.
Kristin removed her arms from her face, looking at the spike that was buried in the ground where her feet once were. The Nadder was nowhere in sight.
She met the shield maiden’s eyes and realized she still had the woman’s wrist in her hand. The woman wrenched out of Kristin’s hold, taking a moment to pull Kristin off balance.
“Wench,” she hissed with disgust before turning her heel and storming away. A rock fell at Kristin’s feet and she looked up to see dozens of pairs of eyes looking at her, looking down at her. Her skin prickled and she turned away to steel herself. She pushed past Vikings twice her size who continued to stare, continuing to scorn her and her cowardly ways. She wasn’t afraid, though, they wouldn’t touch her. They couldn’t.
Instinct is what guides her to the stairs to the Great Hall, the busiest place in the village. Practice lets her avoid being hit by muscle and blade, dancing like she was in a play.
Her heart lead her to a man in the distance, blond hair pulled back in a short tail, and yelling at a man that dropped a crossbow and accidentally took out another man’s ankles.
She hurried over and grabbed him by the elbow. “Phil,” she called, pulling her husband’s attention to her.
The chief of the Arctic turned and she gazed into the same blue eyes her youngest shared, a frenzy of fear and anger barely concealed to anyone that wasn’t her. The stubble on his skin was dusted with gunpowder.
Half his armor was gone, she noticed, his breastplate and left shoulder pad missing. Hopefully he did something productive with the pieces instead of letting a dragon take them. Gronckle iron was getting harder and harder to find.
She took him by the shoulders. “Where are the twins?” she demanded, slightly crazed. She hadn’t seen them since this morning when Phil took them down to the arena to observe training.
He grabbed her by the forearms and rubbed circles into them soothingly. “They’re in the Great Hall,” he assured, “they’re fine.”
She sighed and dropped her arms.
“Where’s Tommy?”
“Home.” She gestured vaguely up the hill.
He nodded and gazed up like he might spot the baby. “Go get him and bring him to the hall, it’s not safe tonight.” On cue, a nearby hut exploded and set the neighboring trees on fire. He turned to leave, coloring his face orange.
But she wasn’t looking at his face or his retreating back. She was looking at a Gronkle who was having trouble taking off with a burnt wing. A Deadly Nadder blind and stumbling around, and a Hideous Zippleback with an injured head.
A little girl stood in the carnage, holding a torn stuffed bear and crying for her mother. No one gives her a second glance. Eventually, another Viking, decidedly not her mother, whisked her away to the Great Hall. There were probably more children around the village who will have to hide until the sun rises.
“It’s awful out here, isn’t it?” she called out, face purposefully tilting her face up and away from the chief.
Phil sighed and whirled around, striding toward her. “Don’t do this right now, Kristin.”
“You know I’m right.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter who’s right. What matters is keeping our people alive.”
She turned to face him. “By fighting fire with fire?”
“By not going down without a fight. They’ll kill us first if we don’t act.”
“Because they’re starving!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the chaos of their land. “They’re desperate. It’s instinct to fight for food!”
He shook his head. “What would you like me to do, Kristin? Let them steal our livestock until we’re left to starve?”
She looked around, unable to look him in the eye in frustration. “You encourage fear, encourage violence, they will return it threefold. Today it’s the crops, tomorrow it’s the blacksmith and his family.”
“Don’t pretend to care about these people,” he lectured, nose wrinkling. “It’s the dragons you care about.”
“I’m worried about the children,” she yelled, “my children. My family. What happens to you when you run the village into the ground?”
He stared at her in disbelief, and for a moment Kristin thought she had triumphed. But then his brows furrowed and he shook his head and pinched his nose. He looked back up at her and fixed her with a hard stare.
Her husband wasn’t a violent person by nature, nor one she ever had to fear like she knew some other women did. His glares never scared her ever when they were kids, and she drifted towards him because of his kinder nature.
It was tradition that forced him to become this man in front of her, so against her views. The two of them used to sit by the windows together and watch the raids in disdain. She knew that he was in a position where he couldn’t consider alternatives, couldn’t betray tradition, just for his wife.
She tried to remain sympathetic, but it became harder to quell the anger when she saw him hand the weapons out, participated in torturing and killing dragons for dragons, and forced those ideals on their eldest sons instead of letting them decide for themselves. They even chose to spend less and less time with their mother as a result, causing the two of them to feel like strangers.
She tried to see past his facade that he put on for his people, to remain strong in the face of his enemies, but it was hard when a dragon was speared in the neck right next to them and he didn’t flinch, instead focusing on her.
He turned again. “Go find the boys.”
But she was angry. She was always angry at the injustice she had to watch outside her home at least every week. Why was she the one that had to hold it back when she wasn’t the one slaughtering living beings?
“You’re a coward!” she called, drawing the attention of a few Vikings and making Phil bristle. “You can’t even look the truth in the eye and admit your mistakes!”
That was all she was able to get out before he marched back, ignoring the gazes of his tribe. “You think this is easy for me, Kristin? Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think that I don’t know just how human dragons are?”
He gestured wildly, to the dragons burning through wood and metal, then to himself. His chest, more specifically, with a heart too big for a chief.
“Do you think,” Phil continued, though he started to sound choked up, “I don’t know just how many of these dragons could be mothers looking for food for their hatchlings?”
His lips started to quiver, and Kristin realized this may have been the first time he spoke such concerns. She felt a bit selfish standing there, oblivious to her husband’s struggle in silence while she preached about his inferiority and humanity, or lack thereof.
But then he glanced around, looked at the faces of the villagers instead of the dragons, shocked at their chief’s outburst, and something hard set on his face again, and she would like to pretend that she knew this part of the man she married, that she’s seen this before, but that would be a lie.
Kristin was finally starting to understand that Phil, her husband, may be exclusive from Phil the chief.
He turned back to her again, face unchanging. “I wish there was a way for us to come to a compromise, Kristin. I wish there was a way for us to leave them be.”
His voice was matter of fact, but there was a hint of desperation to it, like when the wind has a hint of salt in the air. She looked into his eyes and hoped the tears collecting at the corners weren't her reflecting her feelings on him.
He took a deep breath and his voice was quieter when he spoke. “But you know I’m right. If we don’t fight back, we will be killed. And right now, I’m in no position to look for changes. And if I have to choose between my people and the dragons, I’m going to have to protect my people. A chief protects his own.”
He was slightly bent at the torso, face close enough to hers to be intimate, eyes swimming with something she had the time to examine, had time to relearn.
He stood straight again and took a step back. “Please,” he whispered, “get inside.” Then he was gone.
She watched the muscles in his back as he went, thinking. She supposed she often had tunnel visions when it came to her emotions, focusing on the parts she thought wrong and making her own impressions before anything else, and rarely being shaken from them. She had thought Phil was exempt from this, but it would appear she was wrong. How foolish.
Sifting through his words again, she realized dully that she’d heard something different than what he was trying. Yes, she recognized the vulnerability she hardly saw, the love he hid away more often now, and the way his lips quivered like getting the words out was a physical struggle against decades of barriers he’d put up for himself. She saw a new version of Phil today, and she loved him even more for it.
But she guessed he didn’t intend to answer the question she’d been asking herself for years, maybe since she was born.
And there it was. The truth staring at her with shimmering blue eyes that begged her to believe in it, and she did now. She believed that nothing would change, no matter how much she clawed at the world, begging it to change, to grow.
If Phil would not change, the village wouldn’t either. Her twins adored their father, easily stepping in his footsteps in the snow instead of leaving their own mark. They certainly would not betray him, even for her.
She wished she had come to the realization sooner, when the boys were younger, so it didn’t sting as much now that they had the ability to tell her how they really felt. Before they left earlier that morning, Wilbur had started to cry when it was Kristin that tended to his knee and not his father, and Techno had avoided looking her in the eye. She’d thought they were just eager to spend the day with Phil.
She also came to the realization that Phil couldn’t change anything even if he wanted to. He was a man bound to tradition and men who enjoyed the killings. He couldn’t turn his back on them, even for his wife.
She’d never felt closer to her beloved, but she had also never felt so alone.
Shaking slightly, she turned her back to the Vikings and shieldmaidens that still watched her and kept her eyes on her boots as she walked, slowly back to the hut. The ground shook again for the nth time and she forced herself to not look for the dragon that was certainly being killed in front of her.
She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed her biceps despite the heat of dragon’s fire nearby. She tucked her chin close to her chest as another rumble rolled over her, although this time it came from above. Another sound to her right rang out, except this one sounded like a crash.
She looked up.
There was a dragon, the biggest one she’d seen in many years, perched on the blown roof of a hut.
Their hut.
“Tommy!”
She fumbled up the hill at breakneck speed, stopping only to pick up a warped sword from the ground, which was bent to look like a sickle.
She could feel her pulse pounding through her fingertips as she ran the remaining distance. She didn’t want to do this, she hated herself for even thinking about it. This was a living being, and she could potentially be a murderer in the next few minutes. What if the dragon had a family? Children, a mother? How could she look Phil in the eye after this, knowing she could have killed another creature’s child and scorned him for the very same thing?
But this was her son. Phil was right, though she was loath to admit it—the dragon would absolutely kill Tommy if it found a reason, and the little boy could often be a menace.
Maybe Phil could be more forgiving of her than she was right now.
She slammed into the door with her shoulder, arms poised out in front of her to keep the sword at a distance. She could hardly hear anything apart from her beating heart that rocked her head.
She could faintly see its silhouette in the doorway to Tommy’s room from the firelight filtering through the window.
She could see the wings tucked into its sides, four instead of two. A Stormcutter? Just from its tail, she could tell it was large, bigger than she had seen in years.
She walked light, careful to not catch its attention. She swallowed, trying to push away the thud thud thud of her heart to listen for something, anything, because him screaming was better than dead silence—
But instead, she heard giggling.
She stopped in her tracks, now close enough to peek into the room. Inside, the dragon, definitely a Stormcutter, crowded the crib with a talon poking into it. Her heart started to beat again, and she gripped the sword tighter.
She froze again when Tommy giggled again, and here she could see the tiny hands reaching up and trying to grab it. The talon lowered slightly enough to startle him and make him laugh again. The Stormcutter made a noise that sounded close to a chortle.
The gentleness of such a large creature startled her, and she admitted to herself that she had never considered the possibility dragons could be gentle. Yet here this dragon was, playing with her son just to watch him laugh. No malicious intent in sight. It took her breath away.
Distracted, her grip on the sword loosened and the tip dragged on the wooden floor. The dragon startled and turned away from Tommy, who started to cry and reach for the beast again.
She was able to think he always wanted attention before locking eyes with it, seeing the yellow sclera and pupils which…
Softened, if she wasn’t imagining it.
Fear overtook her and she took a step into the room and against the nursery wall, holding out her sword like a shield as it approached slowly. She gritted her teeth to keep from gasping for air and focused again on its eyes instead of the teeth that could tear through her skin or the fire locked behind them that could leave only ash to send to the ocean.
She looked into its eyes and saw herself. She gave pause.
Its pupils were dilated. An odd sight, since the only dragons she’d ever encountered were scared and angry, their eyes little more than slits as a result. This one seemed calm, unguarded. Its pupils were blown so wide that she could see her reflection, wide-eyed and scared. The dragon’s head tilted with curiosity and vulnerability and she flickered in its eyes. Looking closer, she noticed how similar it was to an owl with its scales that swooped up near the eyes and the way it observed her like it knew all the secrets in the world.
What have you seen? she thought. Could you show me?
Kristin blushed when it made a chattering noise that sounded like a laugh, like it could read her thoughts.
She ducked her head and pulled at her hair but stopped when she saw it lower its head as well and shake its head. Experimentally, she tilted her head to one side, holding back a laugh when it mirrored her. It followed her the other way, and she couldn’t hold back a laugh, one that the dragon copied.
She smiled tentatively and her heart gave a swoop when it did the same. It looked a bit wrong, but it was undeniably cute. She wasn’t even aware Stormcutters could do that.
They both flinched when Tommy gave a loud wail, like he was in physical pain instead of moody and attention-seeking. Kristin made to step around the Stormcutter and grab him, the sword long forgotten, when she saw it out of the corner of her eye. Watching him.
It didn’t look away for a moment, even though it surely must’ve felt Kristin watching it, staring at the cradle with such intensity you would think the baby might catch on fire. It turned to her with open eyes that looked begging, clouded with sadness you could only experience watching other people suffer.
“Oh,” she breathed, then smiled. I know who you are.
She took another step around the creature, noting the way it—she, Kristin recognized that now—still flinched infinitesimally away and guarding the crib. And she understood.
“I need…” she started, taking another step. She swallowed. “It’s okay. I’m his mother.”
She didn’t move, but her head shifted up so it was more level with Kristin’s eyes.
“It’s okay,” she soothed. She held her hand close to her waist before taking two conservative steps again. She reached out and groped for the crib before her palm came into contact with wood. She wrapped her fingers securely together before taking the final step.
She looked the dragon in her eyes before showing her her palm. She took a deep breath and let her shoulders move with it. “It’s okay,” she spoke with confidence infused into her words and letting it wash over the Stormcutter’s scales. Black flitted across yellow as the dragon looked between Kristin and the child below her before tucking her head down and giving her space, though the creature still remained in the room.
She bent down and gently lifted Tommy until his cheek rested against her chest. His eyes were still watery when he looked up at her, though his sobs quieted down to hiccups. He brightened when he saw the dragon and laughed a watery laugh. The Stormcutter started and took a step closer while glancing up at Kristin to ensure it was alright.
She stopped when there were a few inches between her and Tommy, her eyes gentle. Kristin felt her heart start to pound.
The dragon sniffed the air between them, unsure. Tommy started to babble to her like they were holding a conversation. She snuffed in his face and he giggled while his hair went askew. Kristin herself had to bite back a laugh.
It fell away, however, when Tommy reached a chubby hand to the dragon. Not pushing it in her face, just holding it there like a question. His face looked calm and unperturbed, like all he wanted to do was play with her.
She took a step closer and Kristin had to fight the urge to wrench Tommy back. The dragon looked up at her once more before leaning in until there was but a hair’s breadth from his hand. Tommy and Kristin both watched in wonder as she sniffed his hand before closing her eyes and leaning into his hand, crossing the distance.
No one moved as the dragon kept her head pressed to him, who seemed to be just touching her head to his hand, as any weight behind her might’ve hurt him. Tommy himself had gone quiet, like he understood the vulnerability his new dragon friend was displaying.
Kristin watched as the dragon made a cooing noise and shook her scales before pulling away, looking at Kristin. Her eyes looked different, less animal and more human. More kindness.
Kristin watched her mouth as she tilted her head up, and thought it was almost a smile. Kristin could feel one start to grow on her face. She hadn’t felt this elated since her boys were born. It was nice.
There was a loud bang and the tranquility instantly snapped away. The Stormcutter’s eyes closed off and she turned to face the opposer. She screeched into the quiet house in warning, and Kristin could feel Tommy start to fuss again.
“Kristin!”
Her heart leaped into her throat. Phil.
“Phil,” she spoke, her voice wavering. “Phil, stay back.”
“Hold on!”
“No!” she cried, but it went unheard as she heard the sound of an axe hitting something. The dragon roared loud and clear before opening her mouth wider and spitting fire into the house. The wall of Tommy’s room obscured her from seeing where it caught, but she was somewhat assured by Phil’s resounding grunt.
The dragon opened her wings suddenly, knocking out the walls and making the house creak. Her ears rung when she looked up from shielding Tommy to discover a tail shielding her. The air smelled of sulfur as her mouth formed fire again. Because of the new ruined walls, Kristin could see Phil hide behind a shield just in time for her to avoid liquid fire.
Through the dust and smoke, she staggered uneasily to the dragon’s side and pulled on her wing weakly. It was enough to get her attention and she whipped around, her eyes still unfocused.
“Stop!” she yelled, before coughing into the crook of her elbow. The smoke scratched lines down her throat and it was getting harder to breathe.
When she looked up, the Stormcutter was looking at Tommy still in her arms. A loud scream shook her ribs, and she looked down to discover his face was tear-streaked. She hadn’t noticed he was crying.
She looked back up to discover the dragon was looking at her with consideration. Kristin couldn’t pull herself away from her eyes, even when she heard Phil call out to her.
The dragon took a slow step forward, and then Kristin’s stomach fell out of her body as she was lifted up.
“Kristin!”
She gripped Tommy and screamed as the dragon lifted into the air with them in tow. She thought she could feel a calloused hand brush hers where she held Tommy, but it was gone in an instant.
Her eyes were screwed shut when she felt wind whip at her face and hair. Claws dug into her shoulders enough to hurt, and enough that she knew she couldn’t get out if she tried. Tommy was still crying against her chest.
She pried her eyes open in time to see a blond head in the remains in her house, and she called out his name, but what could he do?
Tears stung her eyes and she pressed the baby into her chest to protect his face. The last thing she saw before her home jolted out of view were two little heads, one brown and one pink, running to the still smoldering house.
Her heart squeezed for the hundredth time that night, and all she could do was sob.
Phil ignored the rising sun and the dying fire around him in favor of watching the sky, trapped in the moment.
He didn’t know what he was waiting for—to wake up? For the dragon to circle around and give him back his wife and baby?
It didn’t feel real. No matter how much he tried to reconcile with it, his heart and mind couldn’t seem to come to an agreement. He knew that logically that there was no coming back if a dragon got you, but a bigger part of him disagreed. Wouldn’t he feel it if Kristin died? Wouldn’t he know?
How many times had he sat with widows and widowers as they grieved, trying to help them grab onto the tiny bit of sanity they had left? They had crumpled the moment their lovers had taken their last breath, like they took their breath with them. Isn’t that what love is? A person stealing your breath every time you saw them? Even during their last moments, they still managed to steal every bit of you and give the same back to you.
Why could he still breathe? Why wasn’t he on the floor, cursing Odin and Thor and the like for taking his heart from him, all the while gasping for air? Why was he just standing there?
He never thought this would happen, he supposed. He had arrogantly assumed that of all the men and women and children on this island, they had been the safest. Sure, Kristin had always put herself in danger by stepping into raids with no weapon, but he’d always assumed that he would be there to save her every single time. That he was enough to keep her safe, to keep the family safe.
But he hadn’t been enough, had he? In the end, he failed when it mattered the most.
Somehow, that thought hurt worse than the loss that still had yet to take root in his head.
He continued to watch the sky, waiting. He had waited for Kristin for years, surely he could do it again.
It wasn’t like he was alone, he still… he still had—
“Dad?”
Even when surprise twitched in his chest, it was still hard to turn away from the sky that was slowly turning blue.
Techno and Wilbur stood at the mess that used to be the entrance before he knocked the door down and the dragon blew it to ashes. The two six year olds were looking in nervously, and Phil was reminded that they weren’t used to wreckage like he was, at least at a personal level. Seeing their house like this must be unnerving.
He opened his mouth to say something, maybe assuring, but something in his throat blocked any noise other than a small squeak. When was the last time the two of them saw him so unraveled?
Techno rested a hand and stepped in, avoiding bits of wood and stone, his twin dawdling behind. Instead, Wilbur looked to their father.
“Dad,” he started, “where’s Tommy?”
The knot in his throat pulled deeper until it started to hurt. Wilbur continued to stare at him before realizing he wasn’t going to answer and started to follow Techno. The two of them froze when the roof creaked, and Phil found himself holding out his hand for them to grab. Techno climbed the rest of the way slowly and grabbed his hand, Wilbur close behind.
The house creaked again as Phil pulled the two of them to him, sounding close to a sob. The twins looked around nervously from where they gripped his pant leg, and Phil looked up sorrowfully again at the hole in the wall. Maybe Kristin would come back now that she saw he had the boys.
His attention was drawn away again by a jangling noise, soft and undisturbed. His eyes landed on the mobile above Tommy’s crib, plastic stars and little windchimes peacefully moving in the wind. Uncaring that the one that they were made for was gone.
His eyes traveled down to the crib, a hand-me-down from Wilbur, where the blankets were askew, the ends charred.
He made to step forward and push the boys aside, perhaps to fix the bed, when he felt his foot nudge something. Earlier, it had been too dark to see anything other than fire and shadows, and he had been too focused on the sky and the boys to really get a chance to look around himself.
He released his hold on the boys and bent down, poking around to try and see what it was he felt. He froze when his hands found something plush.
Wilbur was trying to peek around his shoulder. “What is it?” When he didn’t answer, he could feel Techno and Wilbur share a concerned look over the top of his head.
Techno nudged him with his boot. “Dad?”
Phil clawed at his throat and fell to the ground. He couldn’t breathe.
There was fuzz in his head as he let the first sob go. He couldn’t see anything but his hands and what they clutched close to his chest. He let himself collapse entirely and curled around himself.
There was another jangling noise, and Phil attributed it to the mobile Kristin made for Tommy. She had made a lot of things for him, like the Gronckle he held close to his chest now. She did so much for all of them.
How were they going to live without her?
More tears dripped down his face and nose, and the only thing that stopped him from screaming until he was choking on blood was the tiny hands pulling on his sleeve.
Phil reached out and grabbed his sons to pull them into his chest, the stuffed Gronckle still laying in his lap. Wilbur buried his head deep into his father’s shoulder. Techno was looking past his father’s shoulder into the sky his mother and brother had just disappeared into. Phil couldn’t make out his expression through blurry eyes.
Wilbur reached out for the Gronckle and held it close to his chest. Phil shook with concealed sobs as Wilbur’s eyes started to tear up. Six years old, and his youngest had already lost so much.
Phil pressed his forehead into brown hair and let it muffle his whimpers. The boy started to shake and bury himself away, like he was trying to hide from the broken house with a smaller family than it was this morning. Phil felt like doing the same.
He heard someone else call his name—deeper, perhaps Sneeg—but he couldn’t do anything but keep his mouth shut so his young ones couldn’t realize his horror.
It took him a long time to be able to lift his head, and the first thing he saw was Sneeg crouching near the new family of three, watching them mournfully. Phil couldn’t bear to look at him, so he let his eyes travel to the sky, which Techno had yet to look away from.
The sky was a miss of pink and gold, melting together and scaring away the few remaining stars that were left in the sky. Clouds dotted the dusk in little trains of wisps, like a dragon had purposefully flown through them and artfully created circling patterns. It was the kind of sky you would see during the dying moments of the sun, not the beginnings. It felt purposeful. Mocking.
What a beautiful way for the world to mourn.