A long time has passed since then.

Hineni stands down by the river, staring into its reflective surface. A rock skips along the water, drowning halfway across its breadth.

The waters gently flow on downward towards the city, glistening in the daylight of a beautiful day. Spring is here once more and he, having reached adulthood already one spring ago, finds himself contemplating the entirety of everything.

He had a good childhood, considering the neighborhood that he grew up in. Most of his peers in school didn’t do as well as he had, given their circumstances. Hineni supposes that he’s lucky. He had both of his parents growing up and he still has them. They're working people and, while harsh in their mannerisms, bore only good intent for their acts.

He tilts his head, looking at his well-trimmed, cleanly growing hair shown in his reflection below. It adorns the side of his face, handsome and strong. After becoming a little older, his father had taken him into the forge to start his work there.

- But Hineni hadn’t found any love for the metal of his father’s work.

Instead, the man found his soul’s nourishment in the working of wood — carpentry.

He takes another rock and throws it out across the river. It skips a few times and then sinks again.

He thinks that it all started back then, back when he was a kid. Back when he made her that stupid, ugly wooden finger. It had changed something inside of himself, something minuscule.

She has grown too, so he has to keep making new ones every year that fit to her growing hands. But she always insists that he makes them look ‘just like the first one’ and so, Hineni obliges, not sure why she would want to have such ugly things instead of something nice and beautiful.

But he does appreciate the feeling of being useful to someone, he supposes.

Given his strong upbringing and lineage and his hard work, he has become an attractive, well desired member of the community. Every day, people come, adventurers, wanderers and even just regular old everybody from all around and fight for his attention. Women and men for the more typical reasons, but even more exotic prospects have come his way. Gods.

- That’s why he came out here to the river. That’s why he comes out here. To clear his head every now and then. He enjoys the quiet and the peace that the river offers.

He stares down at an azure fish, swimming by, disturbing his reflection.

His only trouble is that even out here, even this far from the city and his busy and lively home, that his mind finds no quiet. In it dances the vision of a woman. The woman. The one he had grown up with and shared his life and his feelings and his hopes for the future with.

Despite the fact that they live in the same house and have done so for years, she haunts his thoughts in a way that makes him fearful and his father laugh. The old man loves to tell him that that’s exactly how his mother got him and that it’s already over for Hineni. He’s already lost the battle, before it ever even really started. He never had a fighting chance.

By all objective measures, he has a perfect life.

Hineni turns to look at the distant city, feeling a spring breeze push over himself and tousle his hair.

It’s time to go home.

There are people there who are counting on him there and he can’t afford to be out here, feeling confusingly sad about his incredible, blessed luck.

- As odd as that sounds.

The man stops and picks up one last rock, throwing it across the river for the sake of good luck.

There’s no real reason for him to be doing this. It just felt right, is all.

His eyes go wide. It makes it all the way across.

Hineni walks down the familiar streets of his home neighborhood.

It isn’t exactly affluent. But the success of his family’s business has trickled out into all directions, spreading like flowing water. The baker down the street, the tailor across the way, the butcher three houses down and then two to the left - All of them have seen an incredible surge of business. Life has become better for everyone here.

He grabs the handle of the door to his warm home and pulls it open.

An explosion of vivid sights and rich smells and joyous sounds blast his way, as soon as he opens the very expensive, sturdy door. The cheers aren’t for him. Someone is celebrating their birthday today, but they might as well be, with the looks he receives as soon as he steps inside. Admirers.

“Darliiiing~!” shouts an excited voice and he is immediately assaulted by the vision of a woman in a cream-white dress, hobbling through a large crowd of drinkers as fast as she can. Nekyah rushes his way, wearing an apron over her house-dress and holding a soup ladle, for some odd reason. She yelps, stumbling over her ill-sized prosthetic leg and falls over. He catches her.

“You okay?” asks Hineni, pulling her up to her feet. “We really have to make you a new one soon. You’re getting taller.”

She lifts her head, her long strands of silky black hair glistening in the bright light of the glowing lanterns above them. She smiles. “But then how am I going to fall for you to catch me?” she jokes, hitting his chest with the ladle.

Hineni laughs, closing the door behind himself and walking with her inside, doing his best to shield her from the dozen venomous looks that she gets from around the room for daring to stand next to him, let alone talk to him, let alone touch him.

- A lot of people, especially the more socially conventionally attractive, have taken great offense to her being his chosen person.

He doesn’t quite understand it. It’s as if they thought she wasn’t good enough, just because she has some sickly tinged skin or a fake leg or some wooden fingers or some odd tick about doing a few things four times. What those people don’t know is that, in Hineni’s eyes, she’s already far more than he deserves. Because those qualities don’t determine the value of the person who she is.

He bends down, planting a kiss on her forehead for everyone here to see. She hits his chest lightly with the ladle a second time.

“What’s with the apron?” asks the man, letting himself be guided by her. She holds his hand and excitedly drags him towards the kitchen.

“I’m learning how to cook that soup you like today!” she says excitedly. “Your mom’s teaching me!” she exclaims, as if this were the greatest development of her life.

Hineni raises an eyebrow. His mother? “That’s big,” he says, surprised.

“Right?!” asks Nekyah excitedly, beaming.

His mother had always made him a soup during his teenage years and it had become a favorite of his. The woman had always leveraged this precious thing against him whenever she wanted a favor or there was a special occasion. She had guarded the recipe with her life, chasing a terrified Nekyah, who had been peeping, out of the kitchen more than once with a rolling pin or a broom. For her to be passing this on, this is a big change.

“I’m back!” she says, leaning into the kitchen.

The old woman laughs, shaking her head. “I remember when I had that kind of energy,” says Hineni’s mother. Despite her years of hard work, she has aged gracefully and her face is covered in laugh-lines and creases, evidence of many smiles and joyous moments past. “Girl.” She barks, seeing him. “Get him out of here! Don’t bring him here!” she fusses, pointing at him with a kitchen-knife.

“Hi mom,” laughs Hineni.

“Hi. Scoot!” she warns, waving him away with the large knife. She looks at Nekyah. “If you let him see how it’s made, he won’t need you to do it,” she says, tapping the side of her own head with the knife. “Always keep a few good secrets. That’s how you keep them coming back.”

Nekyah gasps and then turns around, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back out of the kitchen, laughing to herself. She playfully hits him on the chest with the ladle a third time.

“I’ll just get to the workshop,” says Hineni, deciding to let them have their bonding moment. “Looking forward to what you make,” he says. She beams and the two of them stare at each other for a time, neither walking away, neither saying anything.

“…Well…?” asks Hineni, already knowing. He lifts an eyebrow.

She whacks him against the chest with the ladle a fourth time and then quickly turns away, hiding her face and walking to his mother.

Hineni laughs, shaking his head and heads into the workshop, feeling a happy glow in his chest.

“I’m telling you, boy,” says his father, looking over from the anvil. He lifts his hammer, pointing it at Hineni. “All of that wood is going to make you soft, like some kind of elf,” he says, almost disgusted by the word.

“What’s wrong with elves?” asks Hineni, running the plane over the board of wood that he’s working on. He has an order for a bunch of beds for the local orphanage. Well, it’s less of an order and more of a charity act. He had been there to visit on Nekyah’s behalf and had found even himself disturbed by the squalor there. After a donation of some money for food, he had promised to make brand new beds for everyone. It’s not much, but it’s all he can do with what he has.

“What’s wrong with elves?!” asks his father incredulously, hammering a sword into shape.

The forge used to be a lot hotter and it was active far more often. But his father is growing old in years and now that spring is here, there is little reason to run the furnace all day and night. Plus it has shrunk considerably, now that Hineni has taken up a lot of the space with his carpentry tools and workstations.

“Bunch of tree-dancing, wobbly-woo, nonsense believing flower folk!” barks his father. “That’s what’s wrong with elves. They're savages!”

“Settle down, dad. None of that sounds bad to me,” replies Hineni. “Besides.” He lifts an arm, rolling up his sleeve to flex his muscles. “Wood is working out pretty well for me, I’d say, old man.”

His father turns his head and spits on the floor. “Boy!” he barks, setting the hammer down and flexing his own arm towards Hineni. “That there what you got is soft. Now this here?” he says, displaying his muscles. “This here is real meat.”

Hineni laughs and the old man laughs too.

They work for a while, each on their own projects.

“Proud of you, boy,” says a voice from behind himself.

But as Hineni turns around to look, the old man is facing him with his back turned and is busy hammering away on his project.

Hineni smiles, returning to his work.

It’s a good life.

Hineni finds himself awake in the middle of the night.

There’s something…

He stares at the ceiling, narrowing his eyes.

There’s something that’s bothering him.

The man sits upright, looking around his bedroom.

His parents still live upstairs, but he sleeps down in one of the rooms that was once for rent. It’s still just plainly furnished. The same desk and bed that had always been here are still here, despite Nekyah’s constant fussing with him and attempts to try to get him to put up a few decorations, at the very least.

Hineni sighs and gets up out of his bed. He walks a whole meter and a half to the chair by the desk.

He stares down at it, wondering, why… why despite everything, something just feels wrong with his life?

This happens a lot. It happens mostly during the night. In fact, it only ever seems to happen at night, specifically. He knows he should be asleep, but his body is telling him that he is meant to be awake. He lifts the fabric mat up off of the desk, revealing a slew of harsh and cruel words, carved into the wood beneath it. It’s a childish habit, one that he had taken up during his schooling years. But it helps him feel better in a way. Maybe it’s sort of like journaling?

He doesn’t know.

Hineni picks up an old letter opener from the desk and begins to scratch into the wood, letting out his frustrations, while secretly hoping that nobody will ever find this.

Because it would be very awkward to explain.

A strange, icy cold draft moves through the room.