The Ultimate Decision

I stood there and stared.

Thorn’s thoughts might have been gone from my mind, but some of what he had felt still lingered. The panic when his hands had passed through me. The helplessness as he called out into the distance. The way he had resisted Flower’s voice when he’d heard her calling him back.

My gaze dropped to the snow between us.

I remembered wanting to go home.

Thorn had heard me say it.

Somewhere within the emotions coursing through me, I was grateful. He had tried reaching for me. He had genuinely wanted me to survive.

But I could still see Grandma sitting in front of the woodstove. I could still see Grandpa holding out his hand as he waited for me to pass him another tool. The kitchen, the barn, the truck. All of the things I'd expected to return to that evening.

“You were watching me,” I started. “You saw what my life was like. You were there beside us all day.”

Thorn gave a slight nod. “Yes.”

“Then you knew they needed me.” Something tightened in my chest. “How could you—”

I stopped, clamping my mouth shut before the question could turn into a shout.

Thorn looked at me again. He didn’t seem offended. Somehow, that made it harder to decide what to do with my anger.

“I woke up in a place I didn’t recognize,” I continued, turning away. “Trapped inside a body that I didn’t recognize. Everyone around me knew the face that I wore, but I couldn’t tell them who I really was.”

Thorn lowered his gaze.

“Rain hated me,” I added. “Shade screamed the first time he looked at me. Raven kept testing me until I collapsed from panic, and I didn’t know what I had done to any of them to deserve that.”

“I know,” he said.

I turned again and faced him.

“No, you only knew what you left behind.”

My words came out sharper than I had intended, and Thorn went still.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

“Every time someone called me Thorn, I had to remember that I wasn’t home.”

Thorn watched me for a moment before lowering his head. “I didn't think about that…”

I let out a short breath. “Apparently.”

“I only thought about how you were dying.”

That stopped me.

Thorn’s gaze lifted to meet mine.

“You had stopped fighting. Nobody was coming for you. I could hear Flower.” His voice grew rougher. “I knew there was something left for me to return to, but you had nothing out there calling you back.”

I stared up at him. “My grandparents—”

“Were too far away to hear you.”

“You didn’t know if sending me in your place would even work.”

Thorn rested a hand on my shoulder. “Your soul was worth the attempt.”

He let the silence that followed that statement sit with us for a moment.

“Had I chosen to go back, you would have been left behind,” he continued. “Had I refused to go back and stayed beside you, I might have lost my body as well. Then what would have either of us gained?”

I swallowed.

The answer was simple. Accepting it, however, wasn’t.

“You could have gone home,” I told him.

Thorn’s ears eased backwards. “And done what, exactly?”

“Tried again.”

He let out a faint, humorless snort. “I had already tried.”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have—”

“I know what you're going to say…”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it brought me to a stop.

His eyes held mine for a moment before he turned and looked towards the trees.

“Perhaps I could have behaved myself for a while. Kept my voice down. Helped Bone. Found something useful to do.” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Then something would have happened. Someone would have said something that my pride wouldn’t allow, or I would have decided that I deserved more than I already had.”

He shook his head.

“I didn’t trust myself to go back.”

I stood there with my mouth half-open, then forced it shut.

There wasn’t any anger in the way that he had said it. That’s what unsettled me the most.

Eventually, I lowered myself into the snow, resting my forearms against my knees.

Thorn hesitated before sitting down beside me.

“I’m not saying that you should have left me in the ice to die,” I told him. “I just wish…”

The rest refused to come.

I wished I could have gone home. I wished Grandma and Grandpa knew where I was. I wished that surviving hadn’t meant disappearing from the lives of the people that I loved.

Thorn watched me struggle with it before turning his gaze forward.

“I had a living body to offer,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know what more I could possibly give you.”

We sat for a while without speaking before I let out a breath.

“Raven was right about you.”

Thorn’s head turned. “About what, exactly?”

I glanced at him. “You were kind.”

His eyes widened. “You just saw—”

“I know what I saw,” I cut in, looking back towards the trees. “But I also saw how you tried to push me off the ice.”

Thorn paused for a moment before he shifted beside me. “It did not work.”

“You still tried. You didn’t know me or even what I was, but you still stayed with me all day. When I fell through the ice, you tried everything you could to pull me out. And when all of that had failed, you gave me the only thing you had left.”

Thorn stared into the snow.

“You did it for Raven and Shade, too,” I added. “You did it because you didn’t want to hurt them anymore.”

For several seconds, Thorn remained silent.

Then he shook his head. “It wouldn’t have lasted.”

I turned. “The kindness?”

His jaw tightened. “It never did.”

I wanted to argue. To point out that he was still here, still answering questions he could have refused to answer. That showing me those memories couldn’t have been easy.

But I had already felt how little those moments of kindness counted to him when they were weighed against his pride and aggression.

So I decided to let him sit with what I’d said.

I leaned back on my hands and looked up at the Northern Lights as they continued to dance through the sky above us. The clearing had gone quiet again. No voices calling to us from another world. No breaking ice.

Eventually, I glanced back over at Thorn.

“So… what happens now?” I asked.

Thorn looked at me for a long moment before he slowly drew in a breath.

“Now,” he said. “It is time for you to decide what you want.”

I sat up slightly. “What I want?”

Thorn nodded as his eyes lifted towards the sky and he rumbled out a single command.

“Show him.”

The Northern Lights thinned into a pale green glow. The trees faded away into it, and the snow beneath my hands became smooth and hard.

I pulled my hands onto my lap as something began beeping. Faintly, at first. A small, steady sound that didn’t seem to belong inside of the Shifting Place.

Overhead, the glow sharpened into long white panels. Walls formed around us until I suddenly found myself sitting on the floor of a hospital room.

Thorn rose beside me, his ears turning towards the sound.

A bed stood in the middle of the room. Someone lay in it beneath a pale green blanket, their head resting against a white pillow. Tubing ran from beside the bed to their mouth. Beside them, a machine released a soft rush of air.

My eyes moved to their face.

My face.

I pushed myself to my feet.

For a moment, that's all I could process. My hair. My face. My hands. None of the unfamiliar features I had spent so long trying to accept.

I moved closer to the bed.

Tape held a tube against my mouth. Wires disappeared beneath a hospital gown, and a clear line ran to one of my wrists. My chest rose beneath the blanket, then settled as the machine released another breath.

I'd assumed my body was still at the lake, trapped beneath the ice, or that it'd been buried somewhere back home.

But it was here.

Someone had found me.

Someone had brought me back.

There was something to return to.

Thorn glanced towards me.

I barely noticed. My gaze had settled on the hand resting above the blanket. It looked pale and thinner than I remembered, but it was mine.

My breath caught in my throat as I noticed the person sitting on the other side of the bed.

Grandma sat there, both hands wrapped around mine, careful of the line near my wrist. Her cardigan rested unevenly across her shoulders, and loose strands of hair hung beside her face.

Grandpa stood behind her with one hand on the back of her chair.

Seeing them again hurt, but it also brought something dangerously close to relief.

They were here. I was here.

For the first time since I'd spoken to Storm in his hut with Raven, going home actually felt like it was possible.

I took note of the man in a white coat that stood near the foot of the bed. He held a thin folder against his side.

“I wish I had better news,” he started somberly.

Grandpa’s grip on the chair tightened.

The doctor glanced towards the bed before continuing.

“The cold caused severe hypothermia, and his heart stopped,” the doctor explained. “They were able to restart it, but while it wasn’t pumping, his brain wasn’t receiving enough oxygen. The tests we’ve done since then show significant injury.”

Grandma watched him without moving.

The doctor paused.

“I can’t tell you that recovery is impossible,” he continued. “But given his condition and what we’ve seen since he arrived, we’re very concerned that he may not wake up. If he does, he could have profound, lasting disabilities.”

Grandpa looked towards the bed.

“Is there anything else you can try?” he asked.

The question came out quietly. Almost practically.

I recognized that tone. It was how he spoke when something had broken and he was working his way through the possible repairs.

The doctor shook his head slightly.

“We can support his breathing and keep his body stable. What we can’t do is reverse that damage. We’re watching for signs of recovery, but so far, we haven’t seen the improvement we’d hoped for.”

Grandma’s thumb stopped moving over my knuckles.

Grandpa turned to face the doctor. “So what are you asking us to do?”

“Think about what David would want if he could understand his condition and speak for himself.” The doctor’s voice remained careful. “We can talk about continuing life support, or about focusing on keeping him comfortable if you decide to withdraw it. You don’t have to make that decision right at this moment.”

Grandma bent her head over my hand.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what he would want.”

I looked down at the bed.

Neither did I.

The doctor shifted the folder beneath his arm.

“I’ll give you some time with him,” he said. “If you have questions, ask the nurse to call me, and we can go over it again together.”

Grandpa nodded once. “Thank you.”

The doctor left quietly, pulling the door closed behind him.

Grandpa rested a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. After a moment, he pulled up another chair and sat down beside her.

Then Thorn stepped closer to the bed.

His gaze moved from my face to the tube at my mouth. He followed it towards the machine, then looked up at the monitor.

“What is this place?” he asked, glancing uneasily around the room.

My voice lacked strength as I struggled to process the scene and the doctor's prognosis.

“A hospital.”

Thorn’s brows drew together with confusion as he turned towards me.

“It’s like the healer’s den,” I explained. “Just… a lot bigger.”

“And that man?”

“A doctor… A healer.”

Thorn looked towards the closed door before turning back towards the bed.

He leaned closer, studying the tape against my cheeks. His ears pulled backwards.

“Why have they put that in your mouth?” he asked.

“It helps me breathe,” I said. “My body can’t manage on its own.”

His gaze followed the tubing again, watching my chest rise and fall as I tried to gather my thoughts.

I watched it with him.

“The other things help them keep track of what’s happening,” I continued, gesturing towards the monitor. “My heartbeat. Whether I’m getting enough air. They can give me medicine through that line in my arm. All of it is helping keep my body alive.”

Thorn straightened slowly.

His eyes moved over everything again, taking in the wires, the tubing, the stillness of my hands.

Then he gestured to where my body lay on the bed with his hand.

“ This… is living?”

Something in his voice made me tense up. “My body survived.”

“Only because of these things.”

My jaw tightened.

He stared at me for another moment before shaking his head.

“I would rather be dead.”

I turned fully towards him. “You just don’t understand what you’re looking at.”

“You just explained it,” Thorn countered.

“I explained what the machines do.”

He gestured towards the bed again.

“They breathe for you. Put things into your blood. Your healers cannot wake you, but they keep your body here anyway.”

“They’re trying to help me.”

Thorn crossed his arms. “I heard what he told them.”

“So did I.”

My voice came out louder than I intended.

Across the bed, Grandma adjusted her grip on my hand. Grandpa leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

I lowered my voice. “They’re doing what they can to save their grandson.”

Thorn’s expression shifted, but he didn’t withdraw what he’d said. “I didn’t say they weren’t.”

“You said you’d rather be dead.”

“I would.”

I looked back at my body.

A few moments earlier, seeing it had felt like finding a door that I thought had been locked to me forever. Now Thorn spoke as though there was nothing that was worth returning to on the other side.

“They don’t know if I'll wake up,” I said.

Thorn’s brow lowered as he glanced down at me. “Neither do you.”

The words landed harder than I wanted them to.

For several seconds, I listened to the machines. Frustration built inside me as I turned to him again.

“What if it were Raven?”

Thorn went still.

“Or Shade?” I asked. “What if it were him lying in that bed, and those machines were the only things keeping him alive? Would you still say that?”

Thorn looked down at the bed.

I waited for him to argue. To tell me that it would be different. That I had no right to ask.

Instead, he remained quiet, his gaze settling on Grandma’s hands holding mine.

The anger began to drain from me as the silence stretched.

“If it were Shade…” he began.

He stopped, lifting one hand slightly before it fell back to his side.

Finally, he drew in a slow breath.

“If there were something the healers could do, I would want them to do it,” he said. “But if they told me what that man has just told your grandparents…”

His voice roughened.

“I would let him go.”

I looked back at him. “Even if there were still a chance?”

Thorn’s mouth tightened.

“I don’t know how long I would need before I could do it.” He watched my chest rise once more. “But yes.”

I blinked. “And Raven?”

His eyes closed briefly. “Her, too.”

Thorn looked towards my grandparents again.

Grandma bowed her head as Grandpa reached across and covered her hands with one of his.

“It would hurt,” he said quietly. “I know it would, but watching them remain like this… Knowing that I was keeping them here because I couldn’t bear to lose them…”

Thorn shook his head. He left the rest unfinished.

I remained quiet for several seconds as I looked down at my own face.

I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he still didn't understand. But Grandma was still holding my hand, and my body had made no move to hold hers back.

“So is that what I have to decide, then?” I finally asked. “To return to a body that might not ever recover or stay in the Shifting Place with you?”

Thorn’s expression shifted slightly.

“Not quite,” he stated. “Remember… Fire Lung.”

The realization dawned on me as Thorn pointed with his eyes towards the ceiling.

I took a few steps back away from where my body lay on the hospital bed and tilted my head up.

“Show me the hut,” I asked carefully.

The Shifting Place answered, warping the scene around us until the sterile atmosphere of the hospital had been replaced with that of warm firelight and stone.

My eyes instantly found Shade as he sat beside Echo near the firepit. Echo was holding him gently as his gaze carried towards the back of the hut.

Several people had gathered close to the bed.

Thorn’s body lay in the bed — the body that I had been living in for the past several weeks. A loosely rolled pelt supported its head and shoulders, and Bunny was still tucked beneath one arm.

The face was familiar now, but its pallor frightened me. Beneath the heavy pelt covering it, the chest rose slowly. Each breath was shallow and rattled.

Then Raven leaned closer and stroked my forehead. On the other side was Blaze as he held one of my hands in his. He kept his eyes trained on it, refusing to look up.

Bone sat at the foot of the bed, his arms and chest riddled with dust and tree bark from carrying in firewood. His head was bowed as grief weighed down his features.

Rain stood close by, watching as Flower spread a herbal poultice over my chest.

“Will it help him?” I heard Raven ask.

“It should,” Flower replied. “Hopefully, it will ease his breathing. It’s the only thing left that I can do for him right now.”

She moved back to stand beside Rain.

He winced as the body on the bed drew in another shallow, raspy breath.

I moved closer as they leaned towards each other.

“I don’t like this,” Flower whispered. “It sounds just like—”

“I know,” Rain whispered back to her. “Just like when Thorn died.”

One of Blaze’s ears tilted towards them. He remained silent as his grip on my hand tightened, though I wasn’t exactly sure if he was there for me, for Thorn, or for both of us now.

At the foot of the bed, Bone’s face became wet. Tears flowed from his eyes freely. His breath broke apart in a heavy sob that shook his shoulders as the body on the bed drew another shallow breath.

Flower stepped over and settled herself beside him, wrapping her arms around one of his as his sobs came faster. She didn’t ask him what was wrong or offer words of comfort. Instead, she offered him what he’d offered me the night I mourned the loss of my life in Alaska back in his hut. Silence and as much time as he was going to need.

The sight made my chest ache.

Rain approached the bed, being mindful of the poultice on my chest as he rested a hand against my ribs and checked my breathing.

“David,” he called out gently. “Can you hear me?”

Blaze glanced up, glaring viciously at him. If Rain had noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Come on,” he pleaded weakly. “We pulled you back once before. Let us do it again.”

But the body beneath him didn’t respond outside of drawing in another breath, one that clearly didn’t settle right with Rain as he glanced over at Raven.

“Can we talk?” he asked her.

“Of course,” Raven replied.

She pulled herself away from the bed and followed him towards the entrance.

“How is he?” she asked.

Rain tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

“Not good,” he admitted. “The Winter Lung has taken its toll on him. He’s holding on, but barely.”

Raven let out a pained sound. “What are you saying, Rain?”

Rain glanced over at the bed as another breath rattled in my chest.

“He is suffering right now, Raven,” he said. “If he manages to show signs of improvement before morning, then I believe he has a chance.”

“And if not?”

Rain could only offer her a somber look.

A haunted expression settled on Raven’s face.

“Alright,” she managed to say.

Rain rested a hand on her shoulder. “Go to him. He needs you right now.”

Raven nodded as she strode back over towards the bed. She took my face in her hands as she studied it again. Her eyes filled as she brushed her fingers over one of my cheeks with one hand and steadied my head with the other.

“It’s alright,” she whispered. “If you feel that you must leave, then you can leave. Go. Be with your family, my brave, beautiful wanderer.”

Her voice broke apart in a sob.

“Just promise that you won’t forget about us.”

Raven’s breath hitched, and she leaned down to kiss my forehead before curling herself beside me and allowing her tears to fall.

The look that Blaze gave her was dangerous. He looked absolutely furious.

Back near the firepit, Shade’s eyes moved between the bed and Echo.

“Echo?” he asked in a shaky voice. “Is Father going to die?”

The question cut through me like a blade. My eyes began to sting.

Echo glanced down at him before letting her eyes drift towards the bed.

“I don’t know, Shade,” she admitted.

Shade’s face crumpled as tears began pouring down his face.

“But… Father promised he’d teach me how to hunt,” he choked out. “He–he was going to show me how to carve!”

Something in my chest shattered as Echo wrapped her arms around him and held him close. Her composure started to crack as Shade buried his face against her shoulder and cried.

I staggered backwards as the sight of the hut and the hospital room fell beside one another in the clearing. They looked like doorways.

I now found myself standing before two impossible choices: my family in Alaska, and the family that I had managed to make for myself in the therian world. Two bodies that were on the brink of death. One spirit between them that both worlds were trying to call back. Both offered a chance at recovery.

A chance, not a promise.

Behind me, Thorn let out a deep, pondering rumble.

“Wanderer…” he hummed, pausing briefly as he took in the sight of everyone gathered inside of the hut. “It’s not a bad name. Fitting for you, I think.”

A broken laugh escaped from my chest.

“Really?” I asked. “ That’s what you took away from that?”

Thorn’s expression fell flat as he stared down at me.

I looked back and forth between the visions. From Grandpa as he held Grandma’s hand to Blaze as he sat crouched next to me holding mine. From Grandma as she cried next to my motionless human body to Raven as she cried beside the one I’d borrowed from Thorn.

The tears came slowly.

“I was almost home…” I muttered.

Thorn blinked. “You are.”

My frustration flared. “Which one?”

His eyes looked from me to the visions. Silence filled the air between us as his eyes landed on Grandma.

“Whatever makes you happy.”

My heart twisted in my chest. Coming from Grandma, those words were normally reassuring.

Coming from Thorn, it just made the choice harder to make.

“You could go back,” I told him, gesturing to the hut. “Your family’s right there.”

I already knew what Thorn’s response would be before he opened his mouth.

“No,” he said. “They’re not there for me. They’re waiting for you, David.”

A small sob escaped me as I looked between the visions again. Before now, I thought the choice would have been simple. That I’d return to the homestead. Return to Grandma and Grandpa.

Now, I didn’t know anymore.

My attention was pulled towards the vision of Alaska as Grandma began speaking again.

“Davey…” Grandma whispered as tears continued pouring down her face. “I hope you never thought you needed to stay with us forever.”

She ran her thumb slowly over my knuckles.

“We loved having you home, but I wanted you to find your own place, too. Work you enjoyed. People who’d be happy to have you in their lives, and people who made you as happy as you made us.”

Grandpa wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

“Somewhere you could settle down and be happy,” she said. “I'd happily listen to you tell us all about it.”

I looked from her to the hut again.

Slowly, I started to understand.

Rain and Flower had been my first friends in the therian world. Bone had given me work and a mentor that I could look up to. Raven and Shade had given me a family, no matter how complicated the circumstances surrounding it were. Echo always made sure to keep things interesting for me.

And as for Blaze… I wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be to me. But he was there. He had chosen to stay.

My body was in Alaska.

But my life was in the Tribe of the Mountain Forest.

They were waiting for me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to face Grandma and Grandpa.

“For what?” Thorn asked.

I sniffed harshly. “For making them go through this. For making them lose the only bit of family they have left.”

Thorn looked up at the vision. “They will have each other.”

I shook my head. “But they won’t have me.”

Then an idea came to me.

I turned towards Thorn. “Can you do me a favor?”

Thorn seemed to arrive at the same conclusion as I had.

“You want me to watch over them?” he asked.

I nodded. “I don’t want them to be alone when they let me go.”

For the first time since we’d met, it seemed, Thorn smiled.

“Then I’ll make sure that they aren’t.”

I returned the smile as I turned to face the hut.

Thorn’s gaze seemed to linger on Blaze as his eyes moved over the vision.

“Watcher…”

The name escaped him in a tone that was broken and laced with regret.

He paused.

“I need to tell you something, David,” he said suddenly. “My care-kin is hurting, and when Watcher hurts, he looks for a place to put it.”

My stomach sank slightly. “Where does he usually put it?”

Thorn’s brow lowered. “Wherever it fits.”

I blinked. “Okay… What am I supposed to do about that?”

Thorn fixed me with a solemn stare.

“He won’t try to hurt you,” he explained. “He’ll get loud. Make it sound like he wants to tear you limb from limb, but he’d never sink his teeth or claws into the one who wears my face.”

“That isn’t all that reassuring…”

Thorn let out a quiet breath.

“No,” he admitted. “I suppose it isn’t.”

His gaze returned to Blaze. In the vision, his care-kin still held my hand, his eyes fixed on Raven on the other side of me as she curled her body to rest her forehead against mine.

“If he gets like that, call him Watcher.”

I glanced up at Thorn. “Not Blaze?”

“No. Watcher.” He turned towards me again. “Wait for him to acknowledge you. Don’t try to speak over him. Make certain he’s listening.”

“And then?”

“Say to him, ‘I know where you are.’”

My brow furrowed.

Thorn watched me for a moment before continuing.

“You’re telling him that you see him. That you can see he’s hurting, and that he doesn’t have to keep hiding it from you.”

I looked back at Blaze. “And he’ll listen?”

“He might,” he answered quietly.

I repeated the phrase silently.

There was something about it that suited the man sitting beside the bed. Someone who could disappear into a storm, or watch a hut without ever intending to be seen.

“And if he ever tells you, ‘You know where I am,’” Thorn added, “he’s offering the same thing to you in return. He’s telling you that he’s there. You can go to him, even if you don’t know what to say.”

My eyes remained focused on the old scout.

Blaze hadn’t let go of my hand.

“Will he be angry that you told me?” I asked.

Thorn gave a slight shrug. “Perhaps.”

I shot him a look.

Thorn’s ears shifted backwards. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know. You’re just making it sound like I’m going to need that help immediately.”

A faint snort escaped him before his expression settled again.

“Don’t use it just so he'll be quiet, David,” he warned. “If you tell him you know where he is, be willing to stay. I’ve already broken my care-kin’s heart once. Do not repeat my mistake.”

I looked at the vision for a few moments before nodding. “Alright.”

Thorn studied me, then gave a small nod of his own.

He stuck out his hand to me, and I accepted it. His palm was still ice cold, but his grip was firm. The tension that had been between us earlier had eased significantly, though, and we gave each other a small smile as we prepared to depart.

“Best of luck to you on your journey, David Willoughby,” Thorn stated.

“You, too, Thorn,” I responded. I looked over at Grandma and Grandpa one final time. “Take good care of them.”

Thorn straightened, squaring his shoulders and planting a foot against the ground as he stood at attention. They were the same movements that I'd seen in Shade whenever I would tell him something that he felt required his full attention.

“I'll take that as a command,” he said. “Until we meet again.”

With that, Thorn turned and charged towards the vision of the hospital. The scene seemed to swallow him up as the vision folded inward and vanished out of sight.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring out into the empty space where he had just been. There were so many things I could have said to him. More questions I could have asked.

But something in me said that I'd have the opportunity again someday.

I drew a shaky breath and looked towards the hut.

“Don't worry, you guys,” I muttered to them. “I'm coming.”

Beyond the clearing, the dark silhouette of the homestead came into view. I looked out across it one last time.

At least I knew what was waiting for me when Thorn’s body officially reached the end of its life. That knowledge was comforting.

Then I surged forward and ran towards the vision of the hut.

It was time for me to come home. 56Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtFhA4cYktV

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