What am I doing?

For all Rowan knew, this could be a trap. Here he was, running across the courtyard through harsh mountain winds that was making every bone in his body rattle, chasing after a random fucking bird. A bird that had chanted his sister’s name. A bird that was clearly under a spell that, for all he knew, could have been sinister. His father was warning him now, his deep voice echoing violently across the yard, to come back. To not fall for such an obvious trick.

But Zara’s magic was never done purposely, it had always been accidental. Like the time she’d grown flower petals with a simple touch, or struck a twig on the ground with a spark of light. These tricks of hers were few and far between years, otherwise it was rare he ever saw magic at all. It was like it never happened…mainly because they were forced to pretend like nothing happened.

Rowan expected Zara would finally be run out of the house one day. Willingly hiding a witch at home was a literal death sentence for everyone involved. But he hadn’t expected her sendoff to be like this. How else could it have been though, he wasn’t even sure.

The bird led him toward the old shed, not too far from the rotted Vlume tree—a tree that no longer bore its delicious, purple fruit because no one tended to this part of the yard anymore.

When he was little, the family hired a few farmers to help with the garden’s maintenance and feeding the poultry. Now his parents opted for less servants around so as not to arouse suspicion about Zara. They abandoned this side of the property and sold the chickens.

Rowan huffed, stopping for a sweet minute to catch his breath. His throat hurt. The wind struck his ears. Ice settled into his hair and face. His eyes and nose were watery. He regretted not grabbing a fleece on the way out. This was going to make him sick, he knew it. Was he doing the right thing? It wasn’t that sorcery didn’t scare him, because it sure as fuck did. As much as Rowan hated to admit being scared of anything, he was a tiny bit afraid of Zara. Just a tiny bit. And it felt wrong, because his sister wasn’t scary, really. It was so easy to get under her skin, to make her mad or cry.

But she had scared him well tonight, attacking Noina with that beetle, watching it with a cold, blank stare; sending a talking bird into his room and having it almost peck their father’s head off. Despite it all, he was running to her anyway, because she needed his help. Something had pierced his heart when he watched Zara be dragged away tonight. He’d make it up to her. This was his apology, for being so helpless.

But maybe he was the biggest idiot ever and this bird was sending him to his death.

His heart thudded in his ears when the bird land next to her body. Zara lay on clear ground, away from shed—the shed with the now broken door. How had she broken out of there? With her magic? Did she send this bird to him in her unconscious state? How? And how did she get from there to where she was laying now?

“Zara!” Rowan yelled, running to her side. He gasped at the sight of her swollen face. There was a piece of glass wedged into her knee. He cringed. “Zara…”

“Ra…wa,” she mumbled something Rowan couldn’t understand. By the soft light of the moon, he could see her eyelids were almost swollen shut.

Rowan didn’t know what to do. He looked back at the house, hoping that his father had been chasing him, only if he could help him carry her back.

An unreasonable hope.

“Zara?” he said, shivering as he touched her arm. She was burning up. “Zara, can you move? Can you at least sit up? Let’s go back home.”

“No…” she whimpered.

Rowan shuddered as another gust of wind blew. He ran his cold hands along her hot face. At this rate, she would die out here.

What in the hell was Baba thinking?

Rowan’s grip tightened in horror, staring back at the bird scrutinizing his every move.

He was going to let her die tonight.

“I know you don’t want to, but…you can’t stay out here,” Rowan explained, teeth chattering. “You sent the bird didn’t you? Did you do that?” Not waiting for an answer, he attempted to lift her up—with some success. It was difficult. Zara wasn’t that big of a girl, but even then… “Wow, you’re heavy. I don’t think I can carry you all the way. I hope you can stand…or hop, at least on your good leg…”

“I…don’t know,” she replied, her voice croaky. “It hurts.”

So she was conscious, and thankfully not as delirious as Rowan first thought.

The bird cawed once more, before taking off in front of them, acting as a guide. The path wasn’t very clear and twice Rowan would have tripped over a branch or a rock if not for the bird’s warning of “Watch!”

“Thank you,” Rowan said, panting as he carried her. “Zara, that’s a smart bird. It’s amazing that you were able to make something like that.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “…I…think I can move,” Zara whispered. “Ugh, it’s hard.”

“Sorry…” He’d been wobbling her this whole time, gradually losing strength in his arms. He wished he were stronger. They had only gone a little more than a quarter of the way. The house was looming closer now. But if Zara could stand on her good leg all on her own then that was a relief in more ways than one.

He set her on the ground, making sure to hold her up steady.

“Ow ow ow,” she whimpered.

“Are you okay? Are you okay? Maybe I should carry you…?”

But my arms are gonna fall off.

This was going to be harder than he thought. Her knee was still oozing, and he didn’t have the strength in him to suggest taking the shard out. It probably wouldn’t have been a good idea anyway.

He panted, his breath puffy in the chill. At least having to carry Zara provided some heat and sweat during the walk. But not only was his sweat now starting to ice over his skin, the thought of facing their parents once they got back was making his stomach quiver and his throat tighten.

After many, many minutes of trudging along, Rowan resorted to carrying her the rest of the way. She was in too much pain to continue on without sobbing and falling over. The bird landed on the gate and watched them step into the courtyard.

Rowan looked back, but the bird had gone in a blink.

“Zara…?”

He was about to ask if she had made the bird disappear, but Zara was whimpering, “I don’t feel good. I want to lie down.”

The door had already slid open upon their arrival. Leyli was waiting for them, her face pale and ghastly.

“ZARA!” she cried as she ran outside, wrapping her thick shawl tighter around herself to retrieve her children.