Chapter Text
Gentle morning light filtered through a set of thin linen curtains when Hunter woke up. He slipped out of bed and wiggled his toes atop a cold hardwood floor that was just beginning to show signs of age. The texture of it felt nice against his feet, but it was uncomfortably chilly. He slipped into a pair of socks and slowly wandered out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen.
“How’d you sleep, baby?” A honeyed voice asked, smiling so sweetly at Hunter as he settled across from her at the dining room table.
“Fine,” he replied quietly, still hazy in the golden eight a.m. sunlight. He hadn’t even changed out of his pajamas yet. The cardinal that had followed him back to the castle had taken to settling on the woman’s shoulder, hiding in her long black hair and singing cheerfully as she got up to bring him a hot cup of tea.
“That’s always good to hear,” she said, running her hands through his hair lovingly.
He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up out of him. Her manicured nails tickled his scalp as she made multiple passes over it. Any tension that would have been there dropped from his shoulders and he wrapped his hands around the barely-too-hot ceramic mug she’d placed in front of him contently.
“I’m gonna start cooking. Do you have any requests?” She asked him, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the raised scar tissue on his cheek.
“Surprise me,” he replied, swinging his feet idly.
She giggled into her hand, her smile reaching all the way up to her closed almond-shaped eyes. “Well, you heard the kid. What are we making today?” She asked, softly patting the palisman’s head. He held up a wing and chirped something into her ear. She sighed and shook her head slowly. “Creature of habit. Oh, well. Mama’s making flapjacks. Again. You know, it’s not really a surprise when you suggest the same thing every time.” She turned to the pantry and began gathering ingredients. “But I suppose you know my son well enough to know when he’s tired of flapjacks. You’re not tired of eating the same thing every morning, are you, Hunter?”
She looked back at him with a benevolent smile and magenta eyes that looked just like his, but with sparkling star-shaped pupils. Seeing them felt so comforting. They felt like home.
He shot straight up in bed, a scream echoing off of his bedroom walls that he had to quickly clasp his hands over his mouth to stifle before it alerted any scouts. His whole body was shaking from how tightly it was wound up.
His hands were wet once he’d finally processed that he was awake and sitting up in bed. Immediately assuming a nosebleed, he began searching for something to soak up the blood only to be baffled to see no trace of red on his hands, even in the dark. His vision began to blur and his cheeks suddenly felt even wetter than before.
He had been crying.
The palisman that had been following him sat on his windowsill watching him. He drew his fists tightly and slid out from under the covers. “Why are you showing me this?” He asked, storming over to the small bird.
He only chirped at him, staying rooted firmly on the wooden ledge.
Hunter bit his tongue and began pulling at the roots of his hair. More tears managed to escape his eyes. “You know I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow, right?” He murmured, letting them drip onto the cold stone floor. The only similarity to the floor in his dream was the bitingly low temperature.
The cardinal chirped once more.
“I don’t speak palisman,” Hunter told him quietly.
Another friendly chirp came out of the cardinal and he fluttered up to the latch on the tall iron latticed window, pulling it open with relative ease.
Hunter did the palisman a favor, pushing the glass pane outwards and letting the crisp night air into the room. “You wanna go out?” He asked, expecting the bird to fly away given the first opportunity.
The palisman chose to flutter over to his nightstand, making himself comfortable atop it.
Hunter sucked in a deep breath out of mild frustration, but realized the bird’s intentions as he did. The fresh air in his lungs made him feel better. The moon was high in the sky and shining dim silver down on the Boiling Isles. His shoulders dropped and he finally found the courage to wipe the tears off of his cheeks. The trails they had left were starting to go tacky and itch, anyways. He crawled back into bed slowly, pulling his knees close to his chest and looking at the palisman on his nightstand.
“I have a lot of nightmares,” he admitted softly, his eyelids drooping. “And I wouldn’t classify what you’re showing me as one necessarily, but...” He paused to let out a long yawn. He was quiet after that for a good moment, his gaze drifting to the sheets below him. “I don’t know what that makes me feel.” He curled and uncurled his toes a few times as he struggled to gather his thoughts.
“Did you just show me my mom?”
The palisman was quiet.
Hunter turned his attention to him once more. He couldn’t believe he was accusing a bird of giving him prophetic dreams. “Palisman. Did you show me my mother?” He asked again, putting more force behind his words.
The palisman turned away from him, settling with his tail feathers facing the bed.
A small, defeated sigh escaped Hunter’s lips. “Can you show me more of her?” He relented, voice soft and genuine.
The palisman chirped at him sweetly.
He hugged himself tightly and began to slip underneath his covers once more. “Thanks,” he whispered, settling atop his pillow with his back to the bird on his nightstand. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
The palisman nodded sagely at him.
He smiled, curled up under the thick comforter and safe from the night air with a newfound anticipation for gentle dreams.