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“Hey whiskers, it’s me, feathers. I don’t know how to deal with any of this, and I don’t want to keep being a burden on you, I’m leaving the grove.”
“Hey sunshine cat, I’m just going to leave in the dead of night to make it easier for everyone.”
“Hi Rynwell I don’t know if you remember me but I feel lost so I’m just going to try and find my own path.”
All things he would have written if he could just manage to remember how in the hells to write. He was never good at it, and he didn’t stay on top of it when it was being taught to him so when it came to leaving the message it only ended up with scratched out ink and tears on paper. Cynder scoffed and crumpled up the parchment, hurtling against a wall before turning his back on the stone he had used as a weight to bear down on.
He wanted to leave, he wanted to put all of this behind him, but there was one person that he didn’t want worrying about him. The only person that seemed to actually care whether he showed his face or not- Rynnwell, the healer’s apprentice.
Cynder couldn’t just leave without at least letting him know, and yet he didn’t have the courage to say it to the other’s face. Because he knew that Rynnwell would just say something that made sense. He’d convince him to stay. Why couldn’t he just learn how to write to make this all easier?
“Fuck,” the half-elf sobbed out, looking at the crumpled parchment, the ink stains on his hand, the quill he had tossed aside. He couldn’t take this feeling of not belonging anymore, of being taken in yet not accepted. What was the point of being in the grove if he had no family, if he had no one to go home to at night? Wouldn’t the world at large be better, the freedom of it? At least out there he didn’t have to think about not having a family to come home to. There were no chores. There was just life- free and wild. So what if he ended up falling to be more wild- losing himself as a half-elf and becoming the hawk he so often chose the shape of.
“Feathers?” A hesitant voice called out from the entrance of the small den.
Fear and guilt immediately washed like an icy torrent down the half-elf’s spine as he heard the familiar voice. He tried to quickly wipe away the tears and gather himself before the blonde cat-like druid entered with a worried look upon his face. The look made Cynder want to shed more tears, but he quickly turned his gaze away, his forearm swiping across it again.
“What?” The voice ended up more harsh than he intended, it always did.
Yet all the same, Rynn took it in stride, the healer closing the distance, not touching the other, but looking him over with a scrutiny only a healer could have.
“I’m fine, I’m not hurt,” squawked the moon druid, pulling himself away from the taller half-elf, frustration and hurt painting on his face as he hugged himself, turning away and trying to create difference. It felt like his breath was caught in his throat, his thoughts a horrid whirlwind. Maybe it would be easier just to hurt- no he couldn’t. Sylvanus, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that hurt the other.
“Then what’s wrong? You’re not okay. You’re crying.”
Cynder flattened his ears with a huff of breath, a few more of the traitorous tears rolling down his cheeks. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, and he heard the footsteps of the other druid drawing closer. He hated how worried Rynn sounded. He was causing that.
“Stop! Just-” He weaseled himself away again just as the other man reached a hand out to try and touch his shoulder. He knew that as soon as the other put his hand on him that he’d fold, that he’d crumple and be stuck here longer, facing that same feeling every morning. Face it every time he went to sleep up in a tree. Slept by himself even if a den was offered to him. Because what difference did it make if there was no one in that den, versus the trees he slept within? It would be cold and empty, the stars hid from view. Cynder couldn’t stand another night of feeling that stinging uselessness and loneliness. It carved a new wound every night. A wound that wasn’t visible but was heard in his voice and felt in his tears.
For a moment there was nothing but aching silence that filled that small den as the hawkish half-elf tried to get himself together enough to look at the other. And Rynn just watched him, no longer making moves towards him, just taking a seat on the boulder, fiddling with his hands.
“Stop. Stop looking at me.” Cynder found it in himself to choke out, the jade eyes suddenly seeming too much to bear in the moment. His arms crossed tightly over his chest as he relegated to hugging himself, taking a shuddering breath as he shook tears away.
“Okay, but can you tell me what’s wrong-”
“It’s nothing you can help with.”
“Well you don’t know that.”
The words were gentle, not pervasive, not aggressive or defensive, they were an offer. An offer of a solution to a problem unknown to the healer, but an extended hand nonetheless.
Gods he was so eager to help, it was actually scary. Smearing a hand across his face to get rid of the tears, he glanced over his shoulder at the other half-elf who sat on the rock. Rynn was looking away, and that caused him to huff out another quiet breath, getting the urge to cry all over again. It was weird to receive that respect to his boundary, not told to get over it. Rynnwell had shown time and time again that he
cared
.
“I want to leave the grove.” Cynder’s voice admitted quietly in the small den, and even still, Rynn offered him the peace of not having to deal with the direct eye contact.
“Why? Did something happen?”
“It’s… Look, I just. I don’t belong, whiskers. No one would-”
“That’s not true, Cynder. Please don’t… Please don’t say that.”
It was the first time that the hawkish half-elf had heard an ounce of pain in that caring voice of the healer and it made his heart lurch. He felt the knot in his throat reforming and the aching throb of guilt. All he could do was drop his gaze to his feet, a pain in his chest and a new sting to his eyes. Because what was he supposed to do?
“Can I… Can I come over there feathers?”
The question was all it took for Cynder to start gushing tears again, but his head nodded and his arms squeezed tighter around his chest as if to make himself smaller.
Within moments the taller half-elf had stood and walked over, then there was the feeling of arms around him, being enveloped by a warm presence. A sob wracked the body of the smaller man as he leaned into the embrace, shoving his face into the uniform of the other.
“Why don’t we get you back to Granny’s den, she’ll make some tea for us. And I read a new story to you if you want. You can stay in our den if you’d like?”
He didn’t answer, he didn’t want to say anything, he didn’t want to move, or see the eyes of the other druids on him wondering why he was crying. He didn’t want their pity. So instead he stood there and sobbed into Rynn’s leather uniform, his shoulder’s slack. Somehow it felt like going to his grandmother’s den was him getting babied and coddled, and that’s not what he wanted. As good natured as it was, he didn’t want to get wrapped in a blanket and handed tea, he just wanted to feel like he belonged. Regardless of whether he was a hothead or a fuck up, or if he didn’t agree with everyone, if he was stubborn, he didn’t want to feel like an outcast despite the fact it may have seemed like he had dug his own hole.
Rynnwell was silent for a beat of time, keeping his arms hugged around the smaller boy, his mind searching for ideas. Because it hurt him to see Cynder like this; the little fireball a flicker of flame, sputtering and struggling to stay alight. But he would figure something out, maybe Granny could let him have a handful of breaks so that he could hang out with the moon druid. I mean, if he thought about it, really it was him doing his duty, he was making sure that Cynder wasn’t hurt.
“Maybe we can go to your tree instead? I know you like to go to a tree, you’ll have to show me which one,” the jade-eyed half-elf offered with a smile.
The hawkish half-elf’s tears had started to peter out, settling down into stuttering, gasped breaths, as if the amount of tears had all but exhausted him. Cynder shifted his head to glance up at the face that smiled down at him before he gave a soft nod of his head. His tree was his safe space.
“Okay, we can leave when you’re ready.”
Those words settled with Cynder, made him rest his head against the chest of the healer again, one of his arms finally working around to loosely hugging Rynn back. Patience. What a gracious thing to be afforded.
It was a few more minutes of just standing there with Rynn’s arms around him before the moon druid finally took a big breath and shifted, softly pulling away and clearing his throat, nervously glancing up at the other before looking away.
“Alright, um. Yeah. Let me… Show you my tree.”
Awkwardly, Cynder rubbed at his face before going to lead the way out of the den, his gaze on the ground as he walked. He could hear the healer shortly behind him, and even still he could feel some other eyes on him as they went. But Rynn nudged at his shoulder.
“How did you pick the tree?”
“Huh?”
“Well did you just climb any old tree or did this one have a secret rune, maybe it had a rock by it, or it tasted better than the others?”
Cynder snorted, his face screwing lightly in amused confusement.
“Tasted better? Psh, you lick trees?”
“Only when I’m really hungry.”
Rynn beamed over at the other, a smile that was as sunny as a summer day, and it earned a small laugh from the smaller boy who was quickly shaking his head.
“You’re crazy- no I didn’t pick my tree because it tasted good. It was just an easy one to climb, before I got my wings. And it has this dead spot near the top, where some woodpeckers nest and I wanted to watch them.” Cynder explained, a hint of his smile still on his face as he talked, his shoulders shrugging with his words.
“Huh, neat! They don’t wake you up with all that pecking?”
“Nah, they already ate most of the bugs in that one.”
Outside of the gate now, it wasn’t long before the hawkish half-elf stopped in front of a grand oak tree, its limbs sprawling upwards towards the sky and outwards. True to what Cynder had said, the old tree near the top was partially hollowed out and dead.
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, the smaller druid looked up at the branches fondly before looking over at Rynn. “This is the tree. I sleep up there, sometimes eat up there, it’s the tree I fell out of when I was learning to fly…” He snickered a bit at that and glanced away.
Walking up, the healer would press a gentle hand to the bark, looking up near the crown of the tree, as if trying to spot the particular branch that Cynder probably slept on. Eventually he would look back over at the other druid with that same warm, sunny smile.
“I love it! It seems like a great place to hang out, would you… Care if I did? I hate being cooped up in that stuffy den all day, it’d be great if I could have somewhere outside to hang out. You know?”
Cynder blinked in surprise at the question, shifting nervously on his feet as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“Y-You can say no! I know this is your space, I can totally find somewhere else to hang-”
“No! No. It’s. Fine. I’d like you… To hang out.” Cynder rubbed at his arm and glanced away with an awkward smile, the tips of his ears burning.
“Oh great, well, I mean, my duties for today were pretty much done… Do you care if I hang out now?”
Cynder was quiet, looking over at Rynn as if searching his face for sincerity before he slowly nodded his head, his smile widening. “Beat you to the top!”
And so the two young druids pushed at each other before starting to clamber up the limbs of the tree. The crumpled up note would remain in the small den, forgotten in favor of climbing a tree with a friend.