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The ring began to fade, the hum dissipating into a quiet nothingness. There was no sound, no chirp of the birds or song of the wind. The only sense that pushed through the absence was the beat of the suns rays on his tense shoulders as he stood, grounded in place like a tree that took root.
Heavy boots stood in the dust, unable to move, frozen in place between the fear in his head and the break of his heart. Large hands loose like weights hung at his side, arms numb and flaccid against his body.
Purple eyes sluggishly began to focus, like waking from a dream and moving to a nightmare. His chest clenched tightly making his next inhale a taxing feat.
He was back. He was home.
But home it no longer was. Abandoned and left to rot and decay like his peoples’ carcasses in the ground. Walls crumbling, roofs collapsing, doors fallen or gone.
And the silence. The breath taking, mind numbing quiet. Like the forest was in mourning. Like the world was grieving. Or maybe it was the lamentation of his heart touching every leaf, every creature, every speck of dust.
Knees hit the dirt as his body slowly lowered, his shaking legs giving into the overwhelming numb. He felt pebbles dig into his fur, scraping through his skin, and he was almost glad for it. A feeling sharp and real, waking his brain from the paralyzing shock of being back where he began.
His body folded forward, arms stretching, gloves gripping at the dirt. His dreads fell around his face as he lowered his body into a silent prayer. One for his father. One for his tribe. And a soft one for himself, of what was left of him.
When the strain in his neck began to burn he pulled himself back up, resting his large hands on his knees. A shuttering breath left his chest as he raised his glistening eyes back to the collapsing village. He needed to move. He was stronger than this. He had to be.
Like heavy weights he pulled his feet forward, willing his trembling legs to hold his weight. As though a magnet was pulling him forward his head turned toward the hut that he and his father had shared. Dead leaves and gravel crunched beneath his feet as he took one laboring step after another, stopping in front of the dilapidated structure that used to be his home, the home where he had had everything and lost it.
His large gloved hand reached out and traced the edges of the doorway, the door long fallen, the wood decaying into the earth. Splintered wood tore at his glove as he felt it rub beneath his palm.
A deep measured breath escaped his chest and with a push of his boot he stepped inside.
The air was cooler, almost wet within the dilapidated structure. Streams of light speckled the ground as it penetrated the holes and tears of the straw above creating an almost ethereal feel as he stepped further into the hut. Cobwebs hung in the corners, long abandoned by their eight legged residents, much like the village. It was almost as if the all life had faded with the loss of the echidna people.
He turned to his left and swallowed hard as he took in the destruction. Pots broken and destroyed at his feet. Jars that had once held food stores and and his favorite crunchy snack (honey dipped hoppers) lay shattered on the floor. The woven tapestries and weapons that once hung from the walls were stolen, long taken by scavengers.
He bent over and picked up a piece of broken clay. An old plate his father and he had made together over the heat of the communal fire. His eyes followed the swirls and dots that he himself had painted. The healer had taken him into the forest to pick berries, flowers and leaves and helped him crush them into paints. He had laid on the floor of her hut, propped on his elbows, and painted the plate while she worked and watched over him. He had given it to his father as a gift when he had returned from the hunt. His father had used that plate every evening for dinner until his last.
Knuckles closed his eyes tightly, blocking out the memory and with it the pain in his heart. It wasn’t until he heard a crack that he opened them again only to find the clay remnant fractured to dust in his hand.
His purple orbs drunk in the image of the destroyed pottery in his hand and he watched as the dust ran from his palm to mix with the dirt on the floor. Destruction. That is what he had become.
He wrenched his gaze away from the littered debris and walked a few steps further to the room they had shared. One bed stood in the corner, bare of any quilt or rug. Just the dried decay of straw and cotton they had once slept on, all other decorum and comfort stolen or wasted.
They only had one bed.
It was the chatter of the village that he had not gained a bed for himself. He had preferred to rest with his father, falling asleep on his chest as he hummed a soft lullaby and the sun waned behind the mountain scape. It was unheard of for a puggle of five rotations to not have moved to his own bed within the family hut. But he never left and his father never made him.
He remembered the stories that had been told as they lay together beneath the roof. Stories of emeralds, of owls, and of his mother. He would listen to the tales, ones he had heard one hundred times, with rapture and awe. And as rain pattered against the roof and the night began to cool he would drift off wrapped in the safety of his father’s arms.
Knuckles drug his feet to the bed and sat among the hardened straw. He slowly removed his gloves, one after the other, and placed his bare hands on the scratchy surface, pulling his fingers through. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing mind, his large claws moving through the material with ease.
As he stretched his paws further his finger ran against something soft. His eyes snapped open and his gaze flicked to where his hand lay. The hint of blue mingled and pinned beneath the material of the bed. He brushed away the straw and cotton to reveal a small doll wedged beneath the bed frame.
As gentle as if it was glass he picked it up, the small figure dwarfed within his large, grown paws. The hair and makeshift quills were scraggly, the material worn and moth eaten, but here it was, in one piece.
Knuckles swallowed thickly as his other hand came up to gently caress the head, the material folding gently underneath his touch.
It was a doll. It was his doll. It was the doll his mother had made, just for him, in anticipation for his arrival onto this earth. A woven echidna garbed in faux ancient wear. A doll she was never able to give him.
Upon all chance this doll had survived the fall. It had survived the looters and the scavengers. It had survived the wear of time and elements. It was here.
And in a moment he was five again clutching the toy to his chest as he skipped through the house, the smell of dinner on the hearth and his father’s scent after training. Grasping his father’s leg in one arm and the doll in the other and knowing he was safe, and protected, and loved. And knowing his mother was with him, always, as his father frequently reminded.
He shook his head and crashed back to the present. The doll, still cradled gently in his hand, was now damp with escaping tears. He ran a claw over the doll as his tears streamed gently across his cheeks, pitter pattering on his hand like the rain from the sky.
He clenched his eyes shut, his chest tightening around his lungs, and a guttural cry came from his chest. A sound he didn’t know he had left within him. He slid from the bed to the floor, falling to his knees, the doll still clutched ever so gently within his paw. His free hand tightened and met the earth, the ground shifting and trembling beneath his strength, and he cried. The sounds of a child erupted from his chest as it heaved under the pain of loss.
He gulped in breath after breath, the air mixed with dust and tears as he cried for his mother. For his father. For the healer that taught him remedies. For the shaman that blessed the tribe. For his innocence, lost too soon and ripped from him in a violent act of betrayal and loss.
Through his pain his senses picked up a brush against his shoulder and in an instant he turned, quills flared and face twisted into a anguished growl as he grabbed hold of the intruder and slammed them against the near wall, stone and rubble displaced with the force. Red arched from his skin and flared in his eyes. His vision hazed by pain and tears and anger, he took in the struggling form underneath his fist.
And as wide green orbs met his furious gaze, Knuckles narrowed his eyes and snarled. He released the figure in front of him and the hedgehog sputtered on the floor, catching his breath.
“What are you doing here?” the echidna’s voice boomed as he stared down the boy before him.
Sonic rubbed at his neck where Knuckles fist was seconds before, using his other hand to push to his feet. And where Knuckles expected a glare to be, there was only softness and concern radiating from the emeralds before him.
“I…I’m sorry.” Sonic started, moving his hand from his throat to scratch at the back of his head. He looked tentative, almost sheepish.
“Why are you here?” Knuckles repeated, voice raising in desperate question, ashamed of his voice as it cracked with the emotion still raw within him.
Sonic straightened, shoulders squared and he stared back at the raging echidna before him.
“I…I saw you in the yard with a ring.” he started, eyes meeting the purple before him. “I saw you with a ring, and I panicked. I thought you were leaving…I didn’t know what to do…so I followed you. I slipped in before the ring closed.”
“And are you happy?” Knuckles spat, his words leaking venom. “Did you see what you wanted to see?” Something about being followed here, to his most revered place and being witnessed at his most vulnerable caused his chest to burn like fire. It was intrusive and penetrating. He was not weak. He couldn’t be. Not to others. Tears once again began to well at his eyes at the betrayal. His body, it seemed, was determined to revolt against his attempt at a tough front.
Sonic’s eyes flicked down, eyeing disturbed dirt at his feet. “I just wanted…”
“Go home, hedgehog!” Knuckles growled. He took a menacing step forward towards the blue figure in front of him, his chest out, his eyes fierce. “Go back to your home where you are safe. Go away from this place and let me be!”
He expected Sonic to shrink at his threat as his voice echoed through the abandoned hut. But to his surprise, Sonic stood taller and something hardened in his eyes as he returned his stare with equal ferocity.
“I can’t do that.” he said, voice firm.
Every muscle in Knuckles body tensed at his words. He raised his arm and balled up his empty hand, claws pressed tightly within his palm. Spikes, fully visible without his gloves slid forward onto his knuckles to point menacingly at the insolent being in front of him.
“Go.” he repeated, his voice almost begging for compliance and he hated himself for that. “Now.”
“I can’t and I won’t.”
“Why?” he roared, frustration and anger finally bubbling to the surface like water at a boil. “Why do you even care? Why are you here?”
And Sonic paused, eyes softening as he stared at the crumbling boy before him.
“Because you’re my brother.” he answered, gentle but never wavering in his conviction.
Knuckles’ eyes widened in surprise at such a simple but convicted answer. His body deflated and he stepped back as the hedgehog’s words disarmed him, tension and rage melting as he moved away in retreat, almost recoiling at the unexpected care and concern that laced Sonic’s words. His broad back met the stone behind him. He pulled the doll, still cradled within his palm, to his chest and he stared back at the boy in front of him. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came.
Sonic took a step forward, now on the offensive, hand reaching, tentative but firm, like approaching a cornered animal. Knuckles flicked his eyes to the approaching fingers, then back to the green orbs in front of him. And as Sonic continued to approach Knuckles found himself sinking to the floor below him, shrinking away from the comfort being offered. He was such a coward.
Sonic closed the distance without resistance, lowering himself to the floor and positioning his body next to the echidna. In the back of his mind Knuckles thought he should still be yelling, raging, pushing this incessant hedgehog back from whence he came. But he remained paralyzed as Sonic sat next to him, pushing his arm into the echidna’s folded appendage and linking their elbows.
Knuckles swallowed hard as he glanced toward the figure beside him, their eyes meeting for a moment before he pulled his gaze forward once more. A gentle squeeze on his arm caused him to tense.
“This is your village.” the hedgehog whispered next to him, taking a chance at the echidna’s unexpected deflation. Knuckles nodded in response, words escaping his tongue, his chest hollow where anger had once been.
A shift next to him, then green eyes burning through his resolve stared, trying to read his very thoughts.
“I’ve never been able to go back to where…” Sonic swallowed, but continued. “Where we used to live. I’m not sure I could.”
Knuckles’ eyelids fell closed as he processed the words spoken. He let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shoulders softening ever so slightly.
“I…had to see it.” He whispered softly. “I do not know what I expected, but I wish I had never come.”
Sonic sighed next to him, leaning a bit closer. “The need for closure can be a strong thing.”
Knuckles scowled, pulling his gaze away and narrowed sorrowful eyes. “There is no closure here.” he snapped, huffing through a breath. “Just sorrow and pain.”
“I get that.” Sonic answered, continuing to gaze forward in his thoughts. “But, sometimes seeing what we left behind is the motivation we need to move forward. And honoring and accepting those that were lost can give us the strength to live…for them and for ourselves.”
Knuckles shifted to open his right hand, the one that was still clutched to his heaving chest. Within his palm the doll still sat, unharmed and safe within his paw even through the storm of his anger and grief. A thing that had always brought him comfort as a child now a lifeline as he processed the hedgehog’s words.
“Your words are wise.” Knuckles admitted as he stared at the toy within his hands.
“Was that a compliment?” the hedgehog asked, eyes dancing.
“In even the driest desert you can find a drop of water.” Knuckles spoke, the corner of his lip quirking up. “But that does not change the fact that it is still a desert.”
Sonic snorted next to him and met his gaze with a sloppy grin. “Did you just compare my brain to a dried up desert?”
Knuckles shrugged, the other side of his mouth turning upward at his brother’s indignation.
And despite all odds. Despite the destruction and crumbling visage of his past he still had things to live for now. He may no longer have his father, but he has a wise chief that treats him as one of his own. He may no longer have his mother, but he has a caring healer that gives him tight hugs and words of love. And he may no longer have his tribe, but he has brothers that, despite all of his faults and mistakes, his anger and his frustration, stay by his side and stand with him. Even when he’s screaming and raging, they somehow find a way to see him through.
Knuckles hugged the doll once again to his chest.
“Thank you, brother.” he whispered, gently wiping the last few tears from his eyes.
Sonic just squeezed him closer and patted his arm.
Knuckles leaned his head back, resting it on the stone wall behind him. His eyes slid shut as if in silent prayer. And through the small window a bird could be heard chirping, the leaves rustled a gentle song and the soft pitter patter of rain began to fall on the roof. The echidna smiled softly taking in the soft ambience. Nature had not forsaken this place. And as the jungle continued to grow, the village would continue to merge, the animals and trees the new residents over years of change. It was poetic. It was soothing. It was loss…but something more.
“Ummm.” Sonic’s voice whispered, interrupting the calm quiet that slowly took hold of the small corner of the hut. Knuckles cracked an eye open, eyeing the hedgehog who had shifted toward him. “This might be the wrong time to ask, but…you did bring another ring with you…right?”
Knuckles let his eye fall back closed, the ghost of a smile spreading over his features.
“You thought I was leaving for good.” the echidna stated softly.
“I mean…I didn’t know! Sonic replied, affronted. But then he slackened, concerned eyes staring at the echidna. “You weren’t though, right?”
Knuckles shook his head, his quilts swaying with the movement of his body. “Do you not trust me?” he asked. “And the oath I have given to our tribe?”
“No! No, of course I do!” Sonic stammered. “I was just…checking.”
A soft rumble that almost resembled a chuckle reverberated in the echidna’s chest. “Fear not, hedgehog.” he started, settling further against the wall. “I have a ring. I just have not decided if I am letting you back through it.”
“What?!”
The laugh grew in his chest and took hold, and in this place of sorrow and grief, he found comfort in the company of his new brother. Sonic shook his head but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips.
“You suck.” he said, nudging Knuckles lightly.
“Are you ready to depart this place?” the warrior asked, a sadness grabbing at his heart at the thought of leaving so soon.
To his surprise, Sonic settled himself further, leaning against the echidna’s firm form.
“Nah.” he answered. “I think I want to stay awhile. And besides, you still need to tell me the story of that doll. Don’t tell me our big, strong warrior has a soft side.”
A long sigh left Knuckles’ chest and he shook his head at Sonic’s playful tone.
And they sat, and talked, and shared. Knuckles regaled Sonic with stories from his youth and Sonic did the same. They laughed and joked and listened. A healing, slow but firm, began to take hold. A lightness that Knuckles had not expected.
And as the sun began to set, Sonic lifted himself to his feet, turning immediately to extend a hand down, and Knuckles took it. The ring hummed as it opened, filling the air with a sense of calm and closure. And as the boys stepped through, hand in hand and a doll still cradled to his chest, a new noise filled the air and life erupted and returned.