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Perrine moves through the woods like a shadow, their feet barely making a sound as they step over roots and dead leaves. The late afternoon sun filters through the canopy, casting long beams of light across the forest floor. They grip the strap of their satchel tightly, eyes scanning the undergrowth for mushrooms, roots, anything edible. Amara walks beside them, her raven legs clicking softly against the ground, her black wings tucked close to her back. The feathers shimmer like oil slicks in the light, dark and iridescent. Perrine can’t help but glance at them every so often, despite themself.
They keep their distance, though. They’ve never liked adults—don’t trust them. Kingsley says Amara is different, but Perrine doesn't care. She’s still an adult. And adults always have some kind of motive.
Perrine kneels beside a patch of moss, brushing it aside to reveal a cluster of pale mushrooms. They pick a few and drop them into the bag without a word. They can feel Amara’s eyes on their back.
“Be careful, Perrine,” Amara calls over.
Perrine tenses a bit. “Why?”
“Because you never know what might be hiding under those bushes,” Amara tells them.
Perrine huffs, rolling their eyes. “I don’t need a warning. I literally live in the woods. I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were, sweetie,” Amara says patiently. She’s never gotten mad, even when Perrine is at their most cranky.
“I’m not a sweetie,” Perrine mutters under their breath, picking more berries. They scowl, trying to look intimidating, but they’re struggling to be mad. Amara is always so dang nice, it’s almost aggravating. Actually, no, it is aggravating.
“I think I see some wild garlic up ahead,” Amara says. “It’ll go nicely with the mushrooms.”
Perrine grunts in response, standing back up. The sooner they finish, the sooner they can get away from her.
“Kingsley loves wild garlic,” Amara adds, her tone light, as if trying to draw Perrine into conversation. “They always get so excited when I bring some back.”
Perrine’s jaw clenches. Why is she talking to them like they don’t know this? They literally live with Kingsley! “Yeah, well, Kingsley gets excited about a lot of things.” They snap off a sprig of mint and toss it into the basket, not caring if it bruises. They hate how easy Amara makes everything look, how she always knows exactly what to say. Her kindness grates on Perrine’s nerves like a splinter buried just beneath the skin. “Why don’t you ask Kingsley to come next time, then?”
Amara pauses, her eyes glimmering with a softness Perrine can’t stand. “I thought you might enjoy some company today,” she says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Perrine scoffs, bending down to pull a clump of dandelions from the soil. “I don’t need company.”
“You don’t have to need something to deserve it,” Amara murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
Perrine freezes, their fingers still curled around the dandelion stems. The words sting in a way they can’t explain. Kindness hurts.
They release the plants and straighten up, brushing the dirt from their hands with rough, jerky movements. “Anyway, let’s go get that garlic.”
“Yes, let’s,” Amara says.
Amara doesn’t push. She doesn’t prod or pry. She just stays beside them, offering a quiet presence without demanding anything in return.
And somehow, that’s worse.
Perrine huffs again and trundles forward. They can hear Amara walking behind them, and they try to ignore it, shoving down their desire to turn around every two seconds to make sure they’re not about to be stabbed in the back—either literally or figuratively. She won’t hurt them, they tell themself. They know they’re still scared, but they try to shove it deep down. They can’t let her know.
Perrine crouches down in front of a wild garlic patch growing in front of a great oak tree and begins to pick at the bulbs, tucking the best ones into their satchel with the rest of their spoils. That’s when they notice it- a flash of white, and that’s the only warning they get before there’s something sharp digging deep into their wrist.
Perrine flinches hard, a gasp lurching out of their throat like a hook, but they don’t scream. They look down and see an iridescent white snake curled up among the wild garlic, the sunlight filtering from the treetops up above making it look like its scales are made from crystals.
A stunning viper.
Its name is a double entendre. It’s a gorgeous snake with its shimmering scales, and its venom is like an electric shock as it enters the bloodstream. Perrine feels that shock in full, as their veins are lighting up with bright pain, slowly crawling up the length of their arm.
“A-Amara,” Perrine chokes out, and they never thought they would ever cry for the woman—or any adult, for that matter. “Amara!”
The raven woman is over by their side in an instant. “What? What’s wrong?”
“M-my arm— I— I was bit,” Perrine stammers. “S-snake…!”
Amara kneels down beside them, taking their arm in her clawed hands. There are two small puncture holes in their wrist, trickling out thin trails of blood. It’s already starting to swell up.
“Oh dear,” Amara says, but she doesn’t. She remains perfectly calm. “What kind of snake? Did you see?”
“S-stunning viper,” Perrine says. A whimper escapes their lips unbidden, and they hate how scared they are. “Am I g-gonna die?”
“Oh, no, no, no, sweetie,” Amara says. She takes out some herbs from her own satchel, crushes them up, then smears it on the bite wound, making Perrine wince. She then takes off her scarf and begins to wrap it around their wrist. “You’re going to be okay. The stunning viper is venomous, but it isn’t lethal. But we need to get you home, alright? I’ll take care of you. You’ll be just fine.”
As she speaks, her words begin to echo, as though they’re both in a cave and not the middle of the woods. The world around Perrine seems to tilt, the trees swaying unnaturally, and their heart races as heat rushes up from their chest. Their breath quickens, but they can’t fight the spreading weakness in their limbs. Their skin prickles with fever.
“O-oh, I don’… I don’ feel good…” they slur, their head growing heavy.
Without another word, Amara scoops them up in her arms, her wings flaring slightly to balance herself as she stands. Perrine doesn’t even have the strength to protest or struggle, allowing Amara to cradle them against her chest.
“I’ve got you,” she says, her voice gentle yet firm. “Just hang on.”
Perrine’s head lolls to the side as the fever intensifies, their thoughts turning thick and sluggish like porridge. The forest around them begins to warp and shift, the trees twisting into strange, distorted shapes, shadows stretching and curling unnaturally. The rhythmic beat of Amara’s wings fades into the background, replaced by a distant hum, like a lullaby sung on the wind.
A faint, irrational part of their mind wonders if Amara is going to hurt them—they are in a very vulnerable state, after all—but that fear is quickly pushed out by a wave of exhaustion.
“Hurts…” they murmur again.
“I know, honey, I know,” Amara says, but her voice sounds…weird. Different.
It’s a monumental effort, but Perrine opens their eyes and looks up.
That…isn’t Amara.
It’s their mother.
Their mother looks down at them, her eyes a vivid green like emeralds, and that’s all Perrien sees before everything goes black.
Perrine wakes up in a daze of heat and pain.
A groan immediately escapes their lips. Their vision is blurry, but they’re able to see that they’re lying on the couch back at their cottage. When they try to push themself up, pain shoots through their wrist, and they groan again, crumpling down onto the cushions.
“No, no, no, don’t get up. Stay still.”
A bolt of adrenaline shoots through Perrine. That voice…
She comes into view. It’s really her. Their mother.
All Perrine can do is stare. What else could they possibly do? This shouldn’t be happening. This can’t be real.
And yet, she’s here. Right there in front of her.
“M-Mom…?!”
Their mother draws closer, and Perrine is able to make out every detail in her face. The sharp angle of her cheekbones, the wrinkles around her mouth, those hawk-like green eyes… They get their nose from her. And their wavy brown hair. They got pretty much all of their looks from their mother, but their anger? They got that from their father, and they don’t know which is worse.
Perrine is shaking. They try to push themself up, this time to flee, but their body isn’t listening to them.
Why is she here? Is she going to yell at them? Tell them they’re worthless? Tell them they’re acting like a child and that she expects better of them?
Is she going to hit them?
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Perrine croaks out, their voice rasping their throat like sandpaper.
Their mother’s eyebrows, always perfectly trimmed, furrow together, and she frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be here? You’re my child, and you’re sick. I’m taking care of you.”
Perinne stares up at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. Did they hear that right? She’s going to…take care of them?
No, no, no. It can’t be that easy. Where is the yelling, the screaming, the shouting? The degrading comments?
They’re struggling to comprehend, confusion and fear warring with pain and nausea. Their head is burning. Their wrist is still throbbing.
“Wh… You’re supposed to…take care of me?” they ask, genuinely confused. They know that that’s what parents do, but not their parents.
Their mother kneels beside the couch. “Of course,” she says. “That’s my job as your mom.” She reaches out, and Perrine flinches, screwing their eyes shut and bracing themself.
Her hand rests on their forehead, and her touch is like a soft feather brushing their skin. It doesn’t hurt.
Perrine cracks open one eye, peeking out. Their mother is still wearing a frown, her expression all worry and care and nothing else.
No anger. No disgust. No hatred. Not even disappointment.
“God, you’re still burning up,” their mother murmurs. “But don’t you worry, sweetie. I’m here to make sure you feel better. You’re going to be okay.”
Perrine can’t bring themself to speak for a moment. They’ll never admit it, but they’ve always wanted to hear her say those words so badly.
“Are you…real?” they ask quietly, their voice shaking.
“Of course I’m real,” she replies.
They can’t comprehend this; they’re too far out-of- it to understand. They’re trembling, caught between the expectation of pain and the strange reality that their own mother is being nice to them?
It’s bizarre, confusing, and utterly terrifying.
They don’t know what to say. What even is there to say?
“M-Mom…” It’s the only thing that comes out.
“Yes, Perrine?” their mother replies.
“I… I…” They can’t seem to find any words, so they just feebly repeat, “Mom…”
“Oh, sweetheart,” their mother says. “You’re so out of it.” Her hands glide down their face until they rest on their cheeks, her thumbs stroking their cheekbones. “How are you feeling?”
After taking a moment to gather their composure, they murmur, “M’head hurts… Brain feels like…mashed potatoes…”
Their mother chuckles softly. “Oh my. That doesn’t sound fun. This fever is frying your poor little head.”
Perrine makes a low, miserable moaning sound in response. “M’arm hurts, too…”
“I bet,” their mother says, casting a worried glance at their bandaged wrist. “I’ve treated it with herbs, and I gave you medicine. You should be okay, but you’ll feel sick for a few days as the venom leaves your system.”
Perrine whines. “Hate being sick…”
There’s another chuckle from their mother, warm and lilting. “I know, sweetie. But you’ll be okay. You’re so, so strong.”
The praise strikes them like a knife between their ribs, and they don’t know why it hurts, but it does. A whimper bubbles up to their lips, and they can’t help the tears that fill their eyes.
They’ve never heard her say those words before, and she’s never been this gentle to them.
They’re exhausted and feverish and half-conscious, and this is all so overwhelming, but all they want is for things to stay this way. For this gentleness to last forever.
“Mama…”
Their mother looks at them in surprise at the sudden word, but her expression turns into a warm smile soon after. She puts her hand on their cheek again, gently stroking their face with her thumb. “Yes, baby?”
The tears start pouring down their cheeks, and they can’t even begin to care or try to stop it. “Can you…stay with me?”
Their mother just looks at them, a gentle expression on her face. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
Perrine wants to sob. They’ve wanted their mother to comfort them like this for so long, and now she’s here.
“H-hold me?” they mewl.
Their mother doesn’t hesitate- she gets up and gathers Perrine into her arms. They’re cuddled against her chest, in her lap, and it’s so warm.
“Oh, baby…” she murmurs. Her hand rubs up and down their back, and she’s rocking them slowly. “Oh, my sweet baby… I’m here. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
Perrine leans into her, holding onto her shirt. They’re sobbing. Full-on sobbing, shoulders shaking and everything, and it’s so embarrassing and such an uncommon thing for them to do.
But they can’t stop. After all these years of secretly craving their mother’s love, she’s finally here, and it’s too much.
Their mother holds them tightly, stroking their hair, trying to soothe them.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she says quietly. “I’m here. Mama’s here.”
Perrine cries until they’re dizzy and their fever burns their eyes. Or maybe that’s just from all the tears. It’s too hard to tell.
“M-Mama?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Are you okay with the person I am today? You don’t have to like me or anything, just… Am I okay?”
For a moment, their mother is silent, and Perrine begins to panic. They’re about to sputter out something else when their mother gently grabs their chin and tips their head up to look at her.
“Of course you’re okay,” she says seriously. “Why would you think you’re not?”
“Lots of reasons,” Perrine says. They sound like they’re hyperventilating a bit. They certainly feel like they are.
There’s so many things they’ve been told about themself. Rude. Selfish. Angry. Mean.
A million insults and criticisms swarm their brain right now. What exactly is there to like about them?
“You’re a good kid, Perrine. A good one,” their mother tells them firmly. “You’re kind, and you’re smart, and I like you, alright?”
That makes them cry even more. Hearing their mother say those things sends an entirely different sort of pain through their chest. It hurts.
Even after all these years, they still seek her approval so badly. All those years of craving her affection and being told they’re not good enough, never good enough, and now she’s telling them they are.
“But… but do you love me?”
They look up hopefully, but before they can get a response, everything starts to fade out. Their mother just smiles at them sadly.
“M-Mama! Do you love me?!”
Their mother’s voice wanes, melting into the background, as does her image. No, this can’t be happening, no, no, no…
Everything is going black. They’re growing weaker, losing their grip on reality. They try to fight it. They just want to stay like this. Please— please—
“Mama—” they croak, desperately reaching out for her.
They want her to say it one time… For the first time…
Even as they’re fading into an unconscious state again, Perrine can’t stop trying to cling to their mother’s shirt.
They need to be with her. They need her to say it.
“Mama…” they croak again, their voice raspy. “D-do you love me…?”
Perrine awakens sometime later, their head soaked in sweat. They’re dizzy, and their wrist is throbbing, and they’re nauseous, and everything hurts and is awful.
As they come to, they realize that they’re sitting in someone’s lap, propped up against their chest. Their head is resting on the person’s shoulder. It’s warm and comfortable.
“Perrine? Are you awake?”
They know that voice…
It’s Amara.
Perrine manages to force their eyes open and looks up. It is, in fact, Amara, and they’re sitting in her lap.
“A-Amara?” they rasp.
“Yeah, it’s me, hun,” Amara says. “I’ve got you.”
Perrine blinks blearily a few times. After a moment, they ask, “Why…are you here?”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Amara replies. “I’ve been taking care of you.” She then puts her hand on their forehead, feeling their temperature. “God, you’re still burning up…”
Perrine tries to look around, but their skull feels like it weighs a ton. “Where… where is she?”
Amara looks at them with a confused expression. “Where’s who?” she asks. “You’ve been mumbling all night…”
Perrine’s head swims, and they shut their eyes again, trying not to get dizzy. Everything is spinning, and their brain feels like it’s full of cotton. “Mama… Where’s my mama?”
“Your mama?” Amara echoes. She frowns. “Your mom isn’t here, Perrine.”
“N-no, no, she is,” Perrine insists. “She is! I-I saw her! She was here!”
“Perrine, it’s just been you and I here. There—” Amara stops, and realization dawns in her eyes. “ Oh. Oh, honey… ” She runs her fingers through Perrine’s hair, drawing their head against her chest. “I think you were hallucinating, sweetheart.”
Ice water is dumped through Perrine’s veins. “Wh-what?” they squeak.
“The stunning viper venom is a hallucinogenic,” Amara says as gently as possible. “None of that was real. I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, no,” Perrine says. “Y-you’re lying! You’re lying! My mama— she was—”
But they know Amara’s words are the truth.
None of it was real. Not even for a second. It was all just things they wanted to hear, but they should have known better. They should have known that never in a million years would their mother ever be so gentle and loving.
Idiot, idiot, idiot!
Funny. That almost sounds like their mother’s voice.
They whimper, then sob. They begin to openly weep, unable to stop the torrent of grief that explodes out of them.
“I— I want my mama!” they wail. Despite everything, they yearn for her, even though they know she would never do the same.
Black wings unfurl around them, bringing them in closer, and Perrine almost feels like they’re being swaddled. Amara’s nimble fingers run through their sweaty hair, and she whispers sweet nothings into their ear, trying to soothe them.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Amara murmurs. “Just get it out, okay? Get it all out. I’m right here. I won’t let you go.”
Perrine can’t help themself- they lean into Amara. Because unlike the hallucination, this love actually feels real.