The Argument

74Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUdzvD7ZK1Q

I awoke lying in the snow.

Not on the ground outside of the gathering hall. This was different.

A clear night sky greeted me as I opened my eyes, illuminated by the Northern Lights as they danced overhead. The pain that had been coursing through my chest had disappeared. The breaths that I drew in came easier now. Steady. Clear. Small white puffs formed in front of my nose with each one.

I sat up slowly and turned to get a look around.

I nearly fell back over when I saw the cabin.

Grandpa’s cabin.

I was back on the homestead.

I had come home.

I looked down and was met with a pair of normal, human hands. My hands. Not Thorn’s. They reached up and felt my face and immediately found my ears and the short locks of hair that just barely covered them.

I felt the fold of a beanie that Grandma had knitted for me.

I looked down at myself.

I was wearing my usual clothing. Insulated pants. A sweater. A brown, sherpa-lined winter coat. My winter boots.

No furs.

I stood up and looked across the homestead. The cabin was dark. The barn was quiet. There wasn’t any smoke rising from the chimneys of the cabin or Grandpa’s workshop.

It appeared as though nobody was home. Like nobody had been home in a long time.

And yet, Grandpa’s old truck still sat in the driveway, not far from the front door.

Looking a little bit closer, I could make out several indentations that broke apart the smooth surface of the snow.

Cautiously, I started forward, my footsteps crunching under my weight as I moved to investigate.

I discovered a set of tracks. Not from an animal. They appeared to be human.

I studied them.

They were unusually simple. No tread. No logos. Not even much of a separation between the heel and the rest of the foot.

And they were massive . Larger than Grandpa’s. Larger than any footprints I remembered seeing here on our humble homestead.

Whoever had made the tracks had come from the treeline. From the trail that led towards the lake. They crossed the property before stopping abruptly and making a sharp turn towards the truck. They’d circled it, stopping at different points.

The front bumper, near one of the passenger doors. The rear bumper. Then beside one of the mirrors.

The tracks overlapped with one another, indicating that whoever had made them had gone around the truck multiple times to get a good look.

My stomach tightened as I followed them onto the front porch. The clumps of snow the footprints left behind showed that they had entered the cabin.

I didn’t see a set that indicated that they had left.

Someone was inside.

I swallowed as I reached for the door and turned the handle. The door opened with a click and a soft creak.

Inside, the cabin was dark. The woodstove was cold, and the kitchen table sat empty.

The only sign that anybody had been here recently was the trail of half-melted, snowy footprints that trekked across the floorboards.

They’d gone into the living room.

I steadied my breathing.

Silence.

“Hello?” I called out, tensing as I heard my voice carry across the room, “Is someone there?”

In the darkness beyond the kitchen, I heard something shift.

A pair of small, green points shone at me from the darkness, hovering just a few feet off of the floor.

Finally, another voice broke the silence again.

“This is a nice hut.”

Realization crashed into my brain as I registered the voice.

It was familiar. Too familiar.

The green points rose through the darkness as whoever sat beyond the kitchen stood up. Heavy footsteps slowly made their way towards me, and I found myself taking several steps back as a shape emerged from the darkness.

I stopped as my back hit the wall beside the front door.

The figure stepped out into the kitchen, stopping just a few paces in front of me.

The first thing that I was able to process through my shock was the spear, grasped firmly in one clawed hand like it was a staff.

Even with the limited amount of light coming through the window, I could make out the person’s long hair, the dirty, tattered furs that covered their body, and a few of the dark freckles that peppered the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. A pair of catlike ears sat atop his head, tilted forward with interest.

“You,” I managed to gasp out.

My heart began pounding in my chest as my eyes remained firmly locked onto his.

Now I understood why some people of the tribe had been so scared of me.

Thorn towered over me.

For several, terrifying seconds he just stood there, still as a statue, until one of his ears gave a slight flick.

Slowly, he reached out with his free hand.

“Thorn.”

The name rolled slightly as he said it. The same accent that I had heard from the other members of the tribe in the therian world.

I hesitated, glancing at his hand then back to him before cautiously accepting it.

The skin of his palm was as cold as ice. His grip remained slightly loose.

“David,” I managed to say in response.

Thorn’s eyeshine flickered again as he blinked before we released each other’s hand.

Our eyes remained on each other for several more seconds, before Thorn suddenly turned and pointed.

“What’s this?” he asked.

I looked.

“That?” I almost let out a laugh. Almost. “That’s a woodstove.”

“Wood… stove…”

Thorn’s mouth played with the word like he was learning how to speak for the first time. He stooped down and examined it more closely.

“Yeah,” I said, reaching for the metal door, “You put the wood inside the box here, create a flame, and shut the door. The vents let in air that keeps the fire burning while also letting out heat, and most of the smoke gets let out through the chimney.”

Thorn let out a pondering hum that carried a slight growl under it as he straightened.

“Bone would like something like that,” he commented.

I smiled fondly as the face of the hunter flashed through my mind. “Yeah, he would, wouldn’t he?”

A deep ache settled into my chest.

Thorn glanced down at me, his expression flat and unreadable before he started heading towards the front door.

I followed him outside.

“Where are we?” I asked him.

“We are in the Shifting Place.”

He said it as though he expected me to understand.

“Okay…” I answered slowly, “And that means?”

Thorn stopped and turned.

“You are where we therians go when we die.”

I felt myself grow cold as I looked down at myself.

“Die?” I echoed. “You mean I’m—”

Thorn placed a heavy hand over my shoulder before I could finish the thought.

“Not yet,” he said. “Not exactly.”

I glanced up at him, waiting for him to explain.

“Fire Lung,” Thorn continued, “Horrible sickness. I sensed you were coming. That is why I met you here.”

That hardly explained anything.

“So you decided to break into my grandparents' cabin?”

Thorn blinked again. “It’s the one place I knew you would go.”

“You could’ve waited outside.”

Thorns lips peeled back as he let out a slight hiss. The sound was less hostile, though, and sounded more like an expression of annoyance.

He didn’t bother explaining himself as he continued forward.

“So, if I’m not dead,” I said as I trailed behind him. “What am I doing here?”

“Like I said,” he stated, “Fire Lung. Illness has weakened the body. Your spirit is just barely hanging on to it.”

I stopped in my tracks.

I remembered the coughing. The pain that tore through my chest. The breaths that I’d struggled to draw in. The strength that seemed to drain out of me with each fit that assaulted me.

Thorn’s body was dying.

Again.

“Okay,” I said again, “So why are you here, then? Why did you decide to come?”

Thorn led me out of the homestead and into a clearing beyond the property line. He settled himself on the ground and gestured to the space in front of him.

I accepted, plopping myself down in the snow.

“You seek answers, yes?” he asked me.

I perked up slightly at that.

I had already started getting answers to some of my more immediate questions. Who was Thorn? Why had the village hated him so much? Why had Raven chosen to marry someone like him?

But there were so many more questions that I had yet to figure out the answers to. Questions that Rain, Flower, Raven, Echo, and Bone couldn’t provide the answers to.

“Yes,” I responded.

Thorn nodded once. “Ask.”

“Are you actually going to tell me the truth?”

Thorn’s expression didn’t change. It remained perfectly flat. It was only then that I noticed his eyes. I hadn’t seen it due to the green eyeshine that had obscured them earlier.

His eyes had gone dark. The hazel color they should have held had dulled into a lifeless shade of brown. They looked empty, as though not even his soul had any life to it anymore.

“I have no reason to lie,” he stated, “The Shifting Place will keep me honest. Trust in that.”

“Alright,” I started slowly, “Why did you go to the lake that day?”

Thorn was silent for several seconds before he let out a long breath.

“I went there to think.”

It was then that I found out how the Shifting Place earned its name.

The landscape began to change around us until we found ourselves sitting outside of the hut.

Thorn’s hut.

He took one look at it and immediately buried his head in his hands as he began muttering under his breath.

A shake of his head told me that this wasn’t about to be a pleasant experience.

I pushed myself to my feet, my eyes lingering on him before I turned towards the uncovered entrance.

It was dark inside. Just as it had been when I had first discovered it. There was no fire burning in the pit. No stack of wood against the wall. The bed had a clear split down the middle of it. To the left were the wolf pelts that were clean and well-maintained. To the right was a mess of lynx pelts in varying states of wear and neglect. Dust and animal hair had gathered in the corners.

Only now, the hut wasn’t abandoned. Not quite.

Thorn sat at the stone table beside the firepit, looking no less disheveled than he did sitting behind me.

He sat still. Incredibly still. One arm was braced over the surface of the table while the other was draped across his lap. He rested his head against an upturned palm as his eyes remained fixed in front of him.

Raven’s words came back to me.

Thorn had stopped moving.

He was very quiet. Silent.

Thorn was angry.

The kind of angry that people needed to watch out for.

Because he was thinking.

I stood there frozen until a small movement in the corner caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Shade cowering there, holding onto Bunny for dear life.

“Father?” he asked in a shaky, timid voice, “Are you angry?”

Thorn’s response didn’t come immediately.

“Yes,” he replied, his tone quiet and dangerous, “I am angry.”

Shade made a small noise as he pressed himself deeper into that corner.

Thorn’s eyes darted over to him. That was the only part of him that moved.

“Where is your mother?” he asked.

“Echo’s,” Shade answered.

Thorn let out a displeased snort.

“Wolves…” Silence hung in the air for several more seconds before Thorn spoke again. “I think you should go there.”

“Now?”

“Now!”

Shade didn’t hesitate as he bolted out from the corner and disappeared outside.

A wave of relief flooded through me.

Then the Shifting Place shifted slightly. The scene inside the hut hadn’t changed.

There was no telling how much time had passed before Raven stepped in through the doorway. She stopped in her tracks as her eyes landed on Thorn before they took in the state of the hut.

She let out a sigh. “Thorn, enough is enough.”

Thorn’s eyes lifted to her as he let out a sharp hiss.

Raven responded with a mock hiss in return.

“To you, too,” she snapped before letting out a sigh. “We can’t keep living like this. You need to work.”

“I am trying,” he said with a quiet rumble.

“You’re not.”

“I am…” Thorn lowered his gaze. “There is no work for me here anymore.”

My stomach dropped as I realized which memory this was.

The argument.

At first, they just argued about work. Raven began rattling off various tasks Thorn had proven himself capable of fulfilling. Thorn turned those options down, explaining that those who needed that kind of work done had already turned down his offers to help. He’d made sure to add that they were tasks that were unfit for a soldier anyway.

Raven then tried something that was a bit more tailored to that interest.

“What about the warriors, then?”

She told him that he was certain that the warriors could use the assistance. Thorn being who he was, he was uniquely qualified to help them, but he refused. He explained that there hadn’t been any danger in several moons, and that whatever had been in need of sharpening or being repaired had already been completed.

“Well, what about Blaze, then?” Raven asked.

“ Watcher !” Thorn snapped. “His name is Watcher.”

Raven let out an impatient breath through her nose. “Watcher, then. What about Watcher?”

Thorn’s gaze slowly lowered down to the table. “I can’t…”

“Why? Did you push him away, too?”

He didn’t respond.

“Ancestors,” Raven groaned, dragging a hand over her face, “You drove away your own care-kin?”

“You don’t understand!”

Thorn stood up quickly, looming over Raven almost as much as he did me.

“It needed to happen,” he said to her, “He can’t keep treating me like a cub. A soldier should not need—”

“You’re not a soldier!” Raven shouted, rough and furious. “You’re not in the High Mountains anymore!”

“I know that—”

“Then act like it! Quit posturing as though every single person here owes you their gratitude. Quit treating Shade as though he’s some child soldier. At least pretend to care about the work and this village!”

“I’ve tried !”

Thorn’s voice had grown so loud, I was sure the whole village had heard it.

“I tried,” he repeated, quieter this time. “They call the bluff as soon as it starts.”

Raven’s brow furrowed. “What bluff?”

Thorn’s claws flexed at his sides.

“The work. The offers. They pretend they’re willing to give me another chance, then find some reason to take it away.”

“They take it away because you give them a reason.”

The growl in Thorn’s chest deepened.

Raven didn’t back down. She reminded him of the jobs he had accepted and abandoned. The tools he had taken and failed to return. The villagers he had frightened whenever they came to check on his progress. Thorn countered every accusation with another excuse. The work was already nearly finished. Someone else had interfered. They watched him too closely. They had never trusted him to finish from the start.

Every answer seemed to tighten Raven’s expression.

“What about Bone?” she finally asked. “Bone gave you more chances than anyone.”

Thorn’s anger faltered and briefly collapsed into a more painful expression.

Raven’s gaze moved around the filthy hut before it settled on him again.

“He defended you when no one else would,” she reminded him. “He found work for you long after everyone else stopped trying. Then you stole from him.”

“I only took food.”

“You stole his winter meat, then lied about it.”

“I was hungry.”

“You could have asked.”

Thorn turned on her. “He had battered me into the ground!”

“You stole from him!”

“I spared his life!”

The words exploded through the hut.

Even Raven faltered.

Thorn’s breathing grew heavier as he stepped toward her.

“I carried him out of that battle while my own tribe called me a traitor,” he spat, “I lost everything because I allowed him to live!”

Raven folded her arms over her chest. “And now you think he owes you forever?”

Thorn's claws swiped through the air.

Raven jerked back.

His hand missed her and struck the edge of the stone table. His claws scraped against rock with a sound that drilled in between my shoulder blades.

Both of them stared at the marks.

Thorn looked down at his hand as though it had betrayed him before it clenched into a fist.

“I wasn’t trying to strike you,” he stated.

Raven looked at the space between them. “And I moved because I didn’t know that.”

Thorn’s anger faltered again, his drawn brows pulling apart as he continued to stare down at his hand.

Raven’s eyes drifted toward the doorway. “You sent Shade away.”

Thorn’s jaw stiffened. “He should not have been here. Not when I’m—”

His words caught in his throat.

Raven waited.

“Angry?” she finished. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Thorn was silent for several seconds before he let out a harsh breath.

“Yes…”

“Because you knew he wasn’t safe.”

Thorn’s eyes snapped up towards her as his ears flattened. “I would never hurt my son.”

Raven shook her head. “You already have.”

She told him how Shade had come to Echo crying after one of their training sessions. His hands had cramped up from holding the branch Thorn had him use as a practice spear. He’d been afraid to put it down because his father had ordered him to maintain his stance.

“He needs to learn discipline,” Thorn stated.

“He needs to be able to be a child.”

“Children who cannot defend themselves die.”

“Not here. We have warriors for a reason. It's their sworn duty to protect us.”

Thorn laughed bitterly.

“The warriors?” he sneered. “They froze when the raid began. I was the only one who stood between you and the High Mountains that night.”

“And you frightened me just as much as they did.”

“I kept you alive!”

Thorn struck the shelf beside him.

Multiple stone bowls flew from it. One shattered against the wall. Another hit the floor and rolled into the cold firepit, scattering ash across the stones.

The hut fell silent. Save for the ragged breaths escaping from Thorn. He stood there for a moment, his body hunched as he pinned the arm that had struck the shelf with the other.

Raven’s voice was quieter when she spoke again.

“You don’t sleep. You don’t work. You steal from the one friend who kept defending you. You train Shade as though Reaper could arrive tomorrow to collect him.”

“I’m preparing him.”

“You are turning him into what they turned you into.”

Thorn’s head snapped toward her as he straightened.

“You know nothing about what they made me!” His voice broke slightly as the strain from shouting started taking its toll, “For the first time since coming here, I knew what I was meant to do.”

“I know. And that’s what frightens me.”

Thorn recoiled.

Raven’s anger weakened, revealing the exhaustion beneath it.

“You remembered how to be Breaker,” she said. “And now the rest of us are being punished because you cannot bear becoming Thorn again.”

“I protected this family.”

“You made this family afraid of you.”

Something wounded twisted across his face.

He looked toward the doorway, his eyes settling on the tiny footprints in the snow. For a moment, he seemed smaller despite towering over everything around him.

Then his shoulders stiffened.

“There is no place for me here.”

Raven’s face fell again. “There was...”

Thorn looked back at her.

“There was a place for you,” she repeated. “Light let you in. Bone gave you work. I shared my home with you. We gave you chance after chance.”

“I never asked you to save me.”

“No,” Raven said. “You only made us regret trying.”

Thorn went completely still.

Raven appeared to realize what she had said, but exhaustion had carried her beyond taking it back.

“Nothing here is enough for you,” she continued. “Not this village. Not your work. Not Shade. Not me. You look up at the mountains every day as though your real life is still waiting for you there.”

“That isn’t true,” Thorn countered. Somewhere underneath his mountain rumble, his voice trembled. “I cannot return. They would kill me. They knew what I was.”

Raven’s eyes shimmered in the dim light of the hut as they started to fill.

“So did we.”

“No,” Thorn growled. “You knew what you wanted me to become. You wanted me weak!”

“I wanted you to be kind!”

“I was never kind!”

“Yes, you were!” Tears poured down Raven’s face now. Her voice broke. “That’s what makes this so painful.”

Thorn turned away.

For several breaths, neither of them spoke.

When Raven broke the silence, her voice shook with anger and grief.

“If you wish to return to the High Mountains so badly, then you should just leave! Leave, and quit making the rest of us suffer for your decisions!”

Thorn whirled around.

His teeth were bared, his claws extended, and his entire body trembled.

“Maybe I should !” he roared. “At least they will do me the courtesy of slitting my throat!”

The anger vanished from Raven’s face.

Thorn stared her down, seemingly absorbing her expression. His peeled lips slowly lowered into a flat line. Something that he'd been holding somewhere behind his eyes drained before he stormed past her and disappeared through the uncovered entrance.

Raven remained in the middle of the ruined hut, listening to his footsteps fade into the distance. 74Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnzCqYARmei

88.181.249.5

ns88.181.249.5da2