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Things started to settle down again after a few days. After reassuring himself for the fiftieth time that Blade and Kit were really all right, Derk, with Mara’s help, restored Derkholm to its normal state. With Deucalion to keep an eye on the surrounding country (to the dismay of the villagers, despite Derk’s promises that the dragon woud not be hunting in the area), the family was moving back towards some semblance of normal. How long that would last, given the circumstances (and the family), was another question.
One evening, after supper, Blade knocked on Kit’s door.
"What?" came a rumble from inside.
"It’s me," Blade said.
"Oh," Kit’s voice came back. "Come in, then."
Blade went inside and was surprised to find it completely dark. "Kit?"
"I was going to try to sleep," Kit said, "but I’m not tired enough." Blade could just make him out on the other side of the space.
"I just wanted to say…I’m glad you made it. Through everything, that is." It sounded stupid saying it out loud. Of course he was glad Kit had survived. Kit was his brother.
"Me, too," Kit said quietly. "I’m glad you made it, I mean." They were quiet for a moment; Blade could hear Kit breathing.
"I’m sorry, too," Blade said finally. "For…what happened in the arena, before I got there."
"Me, too," Kit said, and his voice was sad, more so than Blade had ever heard him in his life. Blade shuffled awkwardly over to Kit and gave him a hug, which Kit, unusually, leaned into, giving Blade an unexpected faceful of feathers.
"Sorry," Kit mumbled.
"It’s all right," Blade said, turning his head out so his mouth was clear. "I’m glad you’re my brother."
"I'm glad you're mine," Kit said.