the head and the heart
Ekyse stares at the apple directly above her. It sways in the light breeze, each gust threatening to send the fruit careening down onto her face. She's too comfortable to move from where she lays: the grass cradles her head just right, and the leaves above block the bright sun overhead, letting only the occasional flash hit her eyes when the branches sway. Instead, she plays a game in her own mind, trying to guess which burst of wind will finally split the stem.
Her musings are interrupted by a voice calling from somewhere down the hill, its speaker obscured by the orchard around them.
"Ekyse!"
She squeezes her eyes shut, as though blocking her own vision will somehow conceal her.
It doesn't.
"Ekyse, it's been hours. You can't keep running off every time you want to avoid chores." Idrace stops at the top of the hill to catch her breath, wiping sweat and long, drenched strands of hair away from her face.
Groaning, Ekyse pushes herself to a seated position. “But, Idrace… I’m tired.” Her eyes flicker open slowly, playing up her exhaustion.
Idrace scoffs unsympathetically. “Of course you’re tired. You walked almost a mile — that’s going to wipe you out for days.” The older girl crosses her arms. “You should have been helping before you tired yourself out.”
Ekyse glances down, embarrassed. Her face is almost as flushed as her sister’s, and she struggles to keep from crying. As much as she hates having to work, she hates getting yelled at more — especially when she deserves it. “I’m sorry, Idri,” she mutters quietly. Her hands fumble about until she locates her cane, and she begins the slow process of pushing herself to her feet. Of course, Idrace is right, and her burst of energy from earlier is already catching up to her. A wave of pain shoots through her body, and she has to bite her lip to keep the already-gathering tears from spilling over.
Immediately, Idrace’s expression softens. She hurries forward to grab her sister, wrapping her arms around her to pull her to her feet and relieve some of the weight. Once she’s sure Ekyse is steady, she turns around and drops to her knees. Wordlessly, Ekyse wraps her arms around her sister’s neck, careful to hold the cane so it won’t hit her. Idrace locks her arms around Ekyse’s legs and stands up. The movement is smoothed, practiced; it’s the kind of instinct that betrays years of comfortable reliance.
“Bird, what are you gonna do when I leave?” she says softly, carefully navigating back down the hill and through the orchard. “I can’t be around to carry you home forever. You’re going to have to stop running.”
“Don’t leave then.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It takes a considerable amount of effort for Ekyse to focus on the sock in her hands. She has to squint to see her stitches by the candlelight, which certainly doesn’t help her attempts to keep from falling asleep.
“Ekyse, stop tapping your foot.”
Her mother’s command startles her, and she ceases the movement she wasn’t even aware she was doing. Immediately, her leg begins to ache from the release of tension. Glancing about, Ekyse opens her mouth to ask if she can head to bed, but her question is interrupted when the door is flung open. Idrace bursts into the room, her hair and clothes whipped about by the wind.
As she shuts the door behind her, Aphias jumps to her feet. “Idrace! Where have you been?”
Idrace mutters some kind of excuse, and Ekyse carefully unfolds herself from the chair and grabs her cane, seizing the opportunity to make her escape. Whatever argument is about to take place will certainly overwhelm her, and she isn’t curious enough about its cause to suffer through the noise. She slips into bed, trying her best to ignore the angry interjections from the other room.
She’s almost asleep when Idrace finally comes into the room, moving quietly and without her usual speed. Muffling a yawn, Ekyse sits up. “Idri? What’s going on?”
There’s a heavy sigh from across the room. “It’s nothing, Bird. I got into a tussle on my way back, that’s all.”
Ekyse frowns. “A… a tussle?” She squints, trying to make out Idrace and pick out any injuries. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Idrace’s voice takes on a tone of warning, but it’s a cue Ekyse misses.
“Are you sure? I mean, a fight? What—”
“Ekyse!”
Ekyse shrinks back, her voice dying out quickly. Idrace sighs again and walks to her sister’s bed, crouching down so that they’re eye level. “Bird, I’m fine. It was nothing. A pointless argument over an unimportant comment.” Ekyse nods mutely, but her shoulders relax at her sister’s gentler tone. Idrace stands and walks back to her own bed, finally laying down and pulling the covers up. The movement is mirrored by Ekyse.
There’s silence for a minute before Idrace speaks up again. “Bird, you shouldn’t pry so much.” Her voice has taken on the sage tone Ekyse is well acquainted with. “You ought to believe me when I tell you something. If something’s wrong, I’ll tell you.”
Ekyse gives a weak sound of agreement muffled by another yawn. “Thanks, Idri,” she mutters as sleep takes her.
It takes longer for sleep to come for Idrace. She stares at the ceiling for awhile, racking her brain for some magic solution she can give her sister to stop the jeering and taunting from their peers. Ekyse might not mind it, but Idrace dreads the day she won’t be there to punch out the next kid plotting ways to bully her sister.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The wedding isn’t bad. Idrace is beautiful as always, and Ekyse manages to stick around for most of the festivities, even if she stops moving around after an hour. It isn’t until the next day, when the celebration finally winds down and Idrace has to go home with her new husband, that the two finally break down in tears. Ekyse can’t stand, even with the cane, and so they just sit together at the side of the road, holding tight. It’s a few minutes before Idrace composes herself, but she stays wrapped in the hug, letting Ekyse sob into her shoulder. Finally, Idrace meets her father’s eyes, and he takes a step forward. She pushes Ekyse back so they can look at each other and wipes the tears from her sister’s cheek.
“Hey, little Bird. It’s okay. I’ll see you again in a few months.” Idrace’s voice is light, and she’s a little surprised it doesn’t betray her grief.
Ekyse tries to speak a few times, but the words don’t come. Instead, she bites her lip and wills the tears to stop. Idrace smiles, and Ekyse returns a brave smile of her own.
Idrace takes a deep breath. “Okay, Bird. You remember everything I’ve taught you?”
Ekyse nods and begins to rattle off a list of edicts. “Don’t get in the way. Don’t ask unnecessary questions. Help when you can. Give what you have. Don’t be loud…”
Idrace laughs, but the slightest hint of worry furrows her brow before it’s gone. “Hey. Hey.” Ekyse falls silent and looks back at her sister. Idrace takes a moment to fix the flower crown atop Ekyse’s head, the white flowers a stark contrast to the dark hair beneath. It’s the same color as her own, and Idrace is struck by another pang of worry, wondering who will take care of making Ekyse fix her hair in the mornings. She shakes the thought away before she can fixate on it, reminding herself that her sister is more than capable at 17. And their parents will still keep Ekyse safe; just because she’s taken on the responsibility for so long doesn’t mean they can’t do it now. Besides, she has to take care of her own family now.
Pulling her focus back to the moment, Idrace smiles again. “Listen to me, Bird. You’re amazing. You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m going to miss you, Idri,” Ekyse whispers.
“I know. I’ll miss you too.”
Idrace stands, but instead of her pulling Ekyse to her feet, their father picks up the smaller girl. She sits in the cart and turns to watch until her family is no longer visible in the distance.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Are you sure, Ekyse?”
“You heard him, mamma. The bear said someone from the village had to agree to marry them.”
“Well, yes, but surely someone else—”
“Look, it’s a good idea. You already had to hire a farmhand. I don’t help much as is.”
“You help enough. Some days. You—”
“I don’t want to have to help.”
“Ekyse—”
“Besides, it sounds fun. I get to do what I want all day, cook when I feel like it. I only have to sew when I want to.”
“Ekyse—”
“Mamma—”
“Sopagas, tell her—”
“Ekyse.”
“Papa.”
“... Are you certain?”
…
“I am.”
“Sopagas!”
“Aphias, you heard her. She’s an adult. Her sister had two kids by now.”
…
…
“You’re right.”
…
…
…
“Idrace is going to be furious. You know she’s going to worry.”
…
“I know.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“You can’t seriously be considering going back.”
Ekyse looks up from the tiny infant in her arms, turning her attention to her sister pacing anxiously around the room. “Of course I’m going back,” she says, looking down at her niece again. When she’d left, Idrace hadn’t even been pregnant, and now she has a third child. As she pokes at the baby’s small fingers, she continues. “Come on, Idri. I gave my word, just one week. And you know the rule: if you give your word, you—”
“I know what I said, Ekyse,” Idrace snaps. Realizing she’s gotten upset again, she takes a deep breath and looks back to her sister, taking a moment to study her.
There’s a steadiness about Ekyse that takes Idrace by surprise. Her sister has always been calm, of course, but there’s none of the timid energy she expects, especially after an unfortunate outburst on her part. Ekyse has a faint smile on her face as she coos at Sydrae, and Idrace feels a pang in her chest. This is what she wants for her sister, not some exile with only an animal to keep her company.
If it is an animal. Idrace fears some terrible monster had taken her sister. After all, the bear had been terrorizing the village. She still can’t believe everyone allowed this, but her arguments had fallen on deaf ears all week, and she doesn’t want to fight again just before Ekyse leaves.
With a heavy sigh, she stops pacing. “Alright, Ekyse. I have something for you.” With that, she retrieves a small item from a nearby bag.
Ekyse leans forward, squinting slightly until Idrace walks over and presents her gift. “Oh, a candle. It’s lovely.”
“It’s not just a candle.” Idrace kneels down so that she’s level with Ekyse and Sydrae and holds it up. The candle is only as tall as the length of her hand and about as wide as her thumb; the wax is a faintly translucent white. “It’s supposed to show things for what they are.”
After a moment of studying the candle, Ekyse looks back to her sister. “You don’t trust me.”
“I — Ekyse, it’s not that I don’t trust you.” There’s another moment of silence, and Idrace sighs. “Bird, you know me. I’m worried about you.”
Ekyse nods slowly. “I know.” She reaches out and takes the candle. Once Idrace lifts Sydrae out of her arms, she turns and adds the candle to her bag.
“Bird —”
“I’ll keep it close, and I’ll use it if I need to. For you, Idri.”
“... Thank you.”
