Zero, ever a crafter, weaves the words of the story with such an expert hand he must have apprenticed in the Basin. Iskra is drawn into the stitches he makes, tied among the threads of syllables and verbiage that bundles around him like a warm scarf on a cold winter night. Steadily the young colt is soothed, and that would have been enough for this moment. However Zero doesn't just settle for
okay; no artist, no big brother, ever does. So as the fable continues, Iskra's heart continues too, moving beyond calm and into enchanted. His mind races with the imagination of it, and like a dawn breaking across a fresh day, so his smile peeks into existence and widens until it consumes every last trace of sadness.
Iskra slips out from beneath the shelter of his brother, turning to face him, bright, eager eyes tracing the motions of his sibling as if he could
witness the very scenes Zekle spoke of.
"Whoa!" Iskra exclaimed as he learned of the cloak's origins, a newfound respect gained.
That's why they're so mad it's gone, he realized.
"Does it make you as strong as the tiger god?" he whispered in wonderment, then soft, more worried,
"It doesn't make you evil does it!?" because that would be
awful.
Iskra hadn't been to all of Helovia yet, and had only visited the Isles with mom to see that strange water creature- Kis was it? He had no idea then that he was standing on the teeth and claws of a mighty tiger god! He'd have to go back and visit it soon, see if he could notice the ground snarling at him.
His focus returned to Zekle as his brother now inserted himself into the tale. The astounding bravery of his older brother set Iskra's eyes wide as saucers, and his mouth, steadily drawn agape with bewilderment, gasped loudly as Zekle explained his injury.
"Wow Z, you're awesome!" Iskra blurted out, his gaze tracing the sweeping motions of Zekle's previously broken wing.
"Did it...did it hurt?" he wondered, because if it did, how did Zekle ever find that bravery? How did he deal with the pain and the risk of it?
Each time Iskra thought the story just couldn't continue, that the top as the top, Zero kept building it higher. Not once did Iskra ever doubt his big bro, because
why would he? Zero was
there, he
knew, and he was clearly amazing so the story just made sense. Or, most of it did. The adventure all pieced together for the boy except for his mom's involvement, and as the story started to dwindle and conclude, focused on her, Iskra's doubts grew larger. The wonderment started to dissolve, replaced with confusion, seemingly echoed by the quiet and thoughtful way Zekle receded as his final phrase fell with a hollow strength.
"She loves us Sparky. She really does."
Does she?
Iskra believed she loved once, but it was hard to see it now. Zekle still carried some remnants of it, like little fossils of love were buried in the man he had become, affirming for Iskra that in a time before him, love had been present. Now though... now he wondered.
"Did she really do all that?" Iskra finally asked after a moment. His voice was slow, the desire to believe cautious in them, a wild animal sniffing at offered food with a survival based hesitancy, but a gnawing hunger. Iskra
wanted to believe in her, all of her, but he was still so hungry all the time.
"Was she really a warrior that fought gods an, an saved you an stuff?" The idea of the gods becoming islands, of Tae holding the skin of one, of Zekle throwing himself into the fray and breaking his wing, well it all seemed more plausible than that.
"Doesn't seem like her."
Iskra had been searching in Zekle's face for answers, seeking truth to hope in. All Zekle would have to do is say,
"Yeah kid," and Iskra would be sold. Hesitant still, but he'd buy it, because if he trusted anyone, it was Zekle.
Still, with a defeated sort of motion, Iskra turned his head away and stared into the distant spot where she had left, because bought or not, things were still different. So he asked the desert softly,
"where did that mom go?"
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