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The sun was setting low in the west, red over the distant foothills, spilling orange around Levi's sandalled feet, as he walked the edge of the wastelands. Sometimes creatures, mainly birds, flew out over that trackless desert, and sometimes the lucky ones turned around in time to make it back. Sometimes Levi found little feathered corpses among the grasses grown from seeds he'd collected and scattered himself, pushing the desert back.
He'd wandered out far this time, mapping another sliver of the wasteland, marking sheltered dips and gullies that he would return to scatter with living soil and seeds. He fed the ground so many seeds; those that didn't germinate would nourish the ones that did. He was on his way back to the well when a large white shape, unusual against the dark soil caught his eye.
He altered course.
It was not a bird he found, despite the dove grey wings crumpled against unforgiving rocks and dusted with sand, but a young man, hollow-eyed and barely breathing, the skin on his arms and shins abraded, and his lips cracked and dry.
Levi rocked back on his heels, taking in the empty water-skins the creature had been laden with, the tunic looped over his shoulders, designed to let his wings move freely. He'd been close to the well when he'd finally run out of energy; just a bit further and he would have made it. Clearly he'd spotted the green of Levi's garden from a long way away, like the other lost birds.
Levi sighed, and lifted him up, draping him over his shoulder, the wings trailing over the ground behind them, leaving two tracks in the dust either side of Levi's footprints.
It was a long walk back, and the last portion of it was made under starlight, but Levi knew his garden well, and although the young man grew heavy on his back, Levi was used to being a beast of burden and he did not falter as he brushed past young trees growing where there had only been dust when he arrived, his feet crushing grasses and wild herbs and weeds.
His well was waiting for him, a pool of deep water hidden by a cluster of rocky outcroppings. Hidden in the heart of it was an old tree, spreading branches shading the water, roots stretching over the rocks holding together the sandy soil, and it was under this giant Levi made his home. The winged man was still alive, and Levi stretched him out on the low couch Levi usually slept on, carefully folding his wings, running his fingers across the feathers, looking for damage. He'd nursed enough birds to know how delicate they were, even if these ones were huge.
He lit an oil lamp and set about getting him some water next, dribbled carefully from a cup between the boy's parched lips, not too much less he choked. Levi soaked a cloth and wiped his face and arms and legs to remove the dust and cool him down. He had skin much darker than Levi's, but it hadn't served to protect him from the sun and Levi plucked aloe leaves and split them with his fingernail before rubbing them on the burns, across his nose and hands. He was …pretty, Levi decided, despite the toll his journey had taken on him. Determined too; he had flown so far.
He didn't wake up, but he did seem to slumber more peacefully, and Levi left him to it, water within reach while he went out to gather herbs for his guest, needing to walk, to think. He was relieved to see his guest slept on when he returned.
Levi didn't try and sleep, instead treating the young man's wounds, and watching over him, offering water when he groped for it in his sleep.
He woke sometime mid-morning the next day. Levi was sitting watching his well, the sky and orange-red rocks reflected perfectly in its depths. He was aware of the little charcoal fire burning in the pit next to him, the steam gently rising from the kettle balanced on top, and then he was aware he was being watched.
He turned slowly, so as not to startle, and was startled in turn by the sheer depth of colour in the young man's green eyes.
“Do you want more water?” Levi asked.
He refilled the cup, bending down to scoop it out of the well, and he was obliged to do so four or five times before the young man licked his lips and put the cup aside.
“Where am I?” he asked, his voice hoarse and dusty.
“You're in my garden. I'm Levi. Did you fly across the wasteland?”
“I'm Eren. I came from a city on the other side.”
“It exists?” Levi said. “I thought it was just a myth.”
“I guess that's not surprising, no one's ever crossed the desert.”
“Except you,” Levi said. “Although you did nearly die.”
“I wanted to-” He frowned and clenched his fists. “My friend, he doesn't have wings so he couldn't come with me, but he found a book, a book about magic but it didn't say how it was done. It was a forbidden book, in the city, so I thought I'd learn in the outside world. Do you know anything about magic?” he asked hopefully.
Levi raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I can do magic?”
“Well, this place, and the garden I could see when I flew in-”
“You can't make a garden with magic,” Levi said, frowning. “That was all hard work. I carried the water and dug the soil and scattered the seeds myself. Magic's overrated.”
“Oh.”
“Your clothes are filthy,” Levi said. “I'll let you borrow some of mine.”
“Where did you get these?” Eren asked a little while later, adjusting one of Levi's tunics around his wings. The whole thing was a bit short on him, his legs bare to a few inches above his knees; Levi could see the tan lines, and he frowned and looked at something else.
“The well is on a trade route. Caravans come here to water their animals and I sell the fruits of my garden for oil and cloth and other goods.” He smiled faintly, “And they are grateful that I do not charge for use of the well.”
He watched Eren's gaze travel to the staff leaning against the rocky side of the well, and the curved blade on its tip.
“Do you want some tea?” Levi asked.
“Thank you.”
“You'll be hungry too. I'll make you some mash.”
Eren wolfed down the grain mash and dates and sipped his tea with a kind of awkward elegance that suggested someone had tried to instil proper manners in him at some point. He held his wings close to his sides, worried about tipping something over in the comparatively small space.
And when he stepped out into the sunshine, fed and watered and keen to explore the garden, he stretched his wings gratefully, arching his back with a groan. He'd been flying almost non-stop for weeks, he'd said, and Levi wasn't surprised they were sore. They were grey, root to tip, but there was a subtle iridescence to them, pink and green when the light caught them right.
Levi watched, motionless in the shade under the tree, half expecting Eren to take flight.
In the end, he didn't and Levi waved him off as he set out to explore on foot, he said he was still tired and aching, but the gentle exercise would loosen him up. There was no danger here, nothing to warn him of; even if he climbed a rock and fell, he'd fly.
Levi set about washing Eren's clothes, beating them on a rock and spreading them out to dry. Eren was back before he'd finished, flopping face down onto the bed, beating his wings slowly, fanning himself before falling asleep again.
Levi left him to it, heading out to work at his garden. Normally he tended the edges, working on expanding it into the wasteland, preparing soil and nursing the relatively unprotected seedlings at the edges, but he stayed close today, picking what was edible, and reducing the numbers of grubs when they started to threaten the life of the plant they were living on; Levi never killed all of them. Without grubs there would be no butterflies, no birds. He carried water sometimes, but he'd done his best to make his garden self-sustaining, half-wild, so when he died it would live on.
“Thank you,” Eren said that evening, while Levi cooked chickpeas in spice and soft, flat bread for them. “You saved me.”
“Mhm. You're still not well. You need to regain your strength. I can see your ribs.” Levi's tunic hung slack on Eren's slighter frame, and the young man tugged at it self-consciously, curling his legs up so he could rest his chin on his knees.
“How can I pay you back?” he asked. “I could come back when I've learned magic and help you-ah!”
Levi tapped his forehead with the back of a spoon, not hard, but the metal was quite warm and Eren flinched.
“I said, you can't make a garden with magic. If you want to help I'll put you to work.”
“Okay okay. I should pay you back before I leave anyway.” He heaved a sigh. “I wonder what my friends are doing.”
“Mourning your death, probably.” Eren's wings rustled as he flinched and Levi instantly regretted his words. “I'm sorry-”
“You're right. They probably are. There's no way to get a message back to them that I made it, is there?”
“No. What's it like, your city?”
“There's a big wall around,” Eren said. “Keeps out the desert, I guess. All sorts of people live in our city. Some of us have wings, and some of us have horns, and some of us have eyes-”
“Like a cat,” Levi finished for him.
“How do you know?”
Levi divided up the stew, and handed Eren one of his two plates. “Because there's a bounty on the heads of anyone who has those features.” Eren's eyes widened slightly. “Not that I intend to collect yours. What use is money to me out here?”
Eren relaxed a bit, and he started eating. Levi had no idea if his food was strange to him or not; what did they find to eat in his walled city?
“Why are you here then?” Eren asked.
“I'm a gardener. This is a good place for a garden.”
It was a non-answer but Eren accepted it for now, chewing thoughtfully. “It really is,” he said.
The next day Eren put aloe on his burns himself, and set out with more energy to explore the garden. He flew back around noon, his wings casting a shadow across the water of the well before he landed beside it with a graceful flutter. He didn't stop, bounding up to Levi with eyes wide and shining.
“Your garden is amazing! I went out past the edge I can see where you're growing it, right into the wasteland. How long have you been doing this?”
“Hm, years I suppose. I haven't really kept count.”
“I want to help.”
“Thank you, Eren. Your help is appreciated.”
Eren smiled.
Eren was as good as his word, and Levi couldn't help but envy the ease with which he covered ground by flying over it, carrying whatever Levi asked of him. Eren was used to a world surrounded by walls, and he'd often stop and stare off at the horizon, mesmerised, and he admitted the times he'd stopped to rest when he'd crossed the wasteland, he'd felt exposed and too uneasy to sleep well.
Levi's home, beneath the tree and bracketed by rock walls, was enough of a sanctuary that he slept easily, curled up on half of Levi's bedding, his wings folded over himself to keep his body warm from the cool night air. In the evenings Levi spoke of the world as he remembered it, the places he had seen when he was Eren's age and still wandering.
Levi spoke, because Eren asked, but he watched his young charge tend to the fire and wondered if his garden was enchanting enough to keep him here. He hadn't forgotten the bounty, even if Eren seemed unbothered by it. Easy to assume you could always fly away, Levi supposed.
Levi taught him to know better, vaulting off a rock and grabbing his leg, bringing them both crashing to the ground, and as much as Levi thought it was a bad idea for Eren to leave, he was damned if he was going to let him go unprepared. Eren caught on quickly, letting Levi teach him how to dodge and parry, how a glide was asking for an arrow between the collarbones. The rocks were ideal, giving Levi height and cover and Eren laughed with delight, finding fun in the game, despite the serious intent.
Sometimes Eren would try to escape by carrying Levi off, but he was too heavy for his wings, and however much he strained and struggled Eren would find himself spiralling down to the ground. Eren would land on top of him, light and feathery and Levi would try and pin him down while Eren struggled for the sky.
He got better at it, and Levi reached for his bladed staff.
The training happened late in the day, when they'd returned from the garden, sometimes laden with food, other times unburdened. Eren smelled of sweat and feathers and soil, he smelled like the life Levi coaxed from the ground.
His skin burned under Levi's hands when they tussled, and his laughter coaxed an echo out of Levi's chest.
Injured birds fly away when they are mended, Levi knew, but can't I keep just one?
“What do you know about magic?” Eren asked one evening.
“That it's bad news, and that you should stay the fuck away from it,” Levi said, pouring tea.
“You always say that. I'm sure it's been used for bad things, but Levi, if I had magic, I could take down the walls of my city. We could start our own garden, on the other side. We have wells, we have plants, and you've shown me how it works now. I could be a gardener too.”
“You could. You don't need magic for that though. If you want to take down the walls, just use hammers.”
“They wouldn't let us. They say it's for our protection, to keep out the desert. With magic, I could fix it-”
“You'd make it worse. A thousand times worse,” Levi snapped. “You don't even know what magic is.”
“Well tell me then! Since you know so much about it.”
Levi frowned. It was a fair question, he supposed. “Magic is taking life force from somewhere and using it somewhere else to do something.”
Eren raised an eyebrow. “That's not really an answer.”
“It's the only answer. Eren, think, not about what you would do with this power but where it comes from. All the things you would drain the spark of life from. In your wake birds would drop from the sky, mice would shrivel in their holes, and the trees would wither around you.” Eren was staring at him over the fire, rapt. “Where do you think the desert comes from?”
“Mages did that? Why?”
“There was a war,” Levi said, handing over a teacup. “There's always a fucking war. I bet there's one going on right now, out there somewhere.”
Eren glanced at Levi's bladed staff. “You were a soldier?”
“It seemed important at the time, to fight.”
Eren was nodding to himself, as if things were starting to make sense. “Life force,” he said softly.
“The soil of the wasteland is entirely dead,” Levi said. “But all it needs is life to be reintroduced. That's why I dig in soil from the other side. Once the little creatures in the soil start growing, there's lots for them to eat out there. She.” He pointed up at the tree above them. “Was lucky. You can barely see it now, but when I arrived here the leaves on that side were all dead. She was strong enough to survive her life force being partially drained.”
“The desert is huge,” Eren said.
“It was a long war. Eren. Stay here. You're safe. Or go back to your city if you must.”
“That's why they hunt us,” Eren said with sudden realisation. “The people with the wings and the horns and the cat eyes. Because we can do magic.”
Levi nodded. “Yeah. Think about it, Eren. You don't need magic.”
Eren fell silent and Levi left him in peace. He'd said enough for one evening. Eren remained subdued the next day, but he followed Levi out uncomplaining as they carried water to the ground they'd sewn seeds in a short while before. Levi hoped he'd said enough, that Eren's love for the life that grew around them would be enough to keep him from his quest.
They stepped carefully over the little seedlings, and Eren went out further, crouching down over the soil of the desert, dark and lifeless, and he dug his hands into it, squeezed it, smelled it. It didn't smell of anything; Levi knew that much. Once he might have liked it, thought it clean, even, but he'd learned better since.
Eren stood up, letting the soil trickle from his hands as he stared out at the wasteland, and then the turned back abruptly, looking at the garden at the damp soil beneath Levi's feet, at Levi himself.
“I can see it,” he breathed. “Darkness out there-” he stepped close to Levi, peering down at him, his eyes wide. “And over here is life. Everywhere. In the soil, in the grass, in you.” He looked down at himself. “In me. I can feel it.”
Of course he could see it, Levi thought, now he'd known to look; he was one of the people with wings, after all, and with a bit of practice, he could just...pluck it out. Sweep it up, gather it in his hands and remake the world with it. Levi grabbed his hands, held them still.
“You understand then? I wasn't lying. If you make a garden with magic, first you must kill a garden with magic.”
“Of course you weren't lying,” Eren looked down at their entwined hands. “I just thought, well, I wasn't sure you understood because you might have just been repeating what other people told you.” He smiled, “You wouldn't lie to me, I know that.” He curled his fingers around Levi's thumbs and Levi moved back.
“Your hands are dirty.”
“So are yours,” Eren laughed and picked up their pails and they started strolling home. Eren kept stopping and staring, noticing the life of the worms below the ground, and the odd night bird in the air above, and when they returned to the well, he was delighted to see the water had life in it too.
Levi waited, and a few days later, he got his answer.
He normally got up with the sun, but he heard Eren moving around earlier, the gurgle of water. Levi assumed he'd just woken up thirsty, but he blinked himself awake when he smelled smoke. Eren had lit the fire, and was crouched over it, making breakfast. He was wearing his old tunic and all his water skins and pouches were full.
“Eren.” Levi sat up.
“Hey. Um.” Eren padded over and knelt beside Levi's bed. He took a deep breath. “I've decided, I have to keep going. I have to learn. I promise, I won't be like those other mages. I know how to make life grow, thanks to you, so.” Levi was shaking his head and Eren plunged on. “I'll be careful. I won't let- I'll hide too, and I'll come back, and please don't be disappointed in me.” He bowed his head.
“I knew this would happen,” Levi said. “Eren, please, this won't end well. Stay here, at least until a trade caravan comes-”
He broke off when Eren kissed him, a firm press of warm lips against his mouth, still half-open in speech.
“I made you breakfast,” Eren whispered, when he pulled back after breathless moments, his eyes glistening with tears. He stood up before Levi could do more than blink stupidly at him, and he scooped up his belongings, throwing them over his back and dashing out, the backwash from his wings rustling the lowest of the leaves.
He didn't look back as Levi stumbled to his feet, bracing himself before taking to the air before Levi could catch him.
“Eren!” Levi shouted, but it made no difference. Levi scrambled up the rocks, far too slow to catch him as he soared into the sky, the first light of morning catching on his pale feathers as Levi watched him go.
“Dammit.”
Levi slid back down the rocks, and methodically started packing. He ate Eren's breakfast, and made sure the fire was out, rolling up that which he couldn't carry and tucking it as far out of sight as he could behind the tree. The furniture he'd just have to leave where it was. He gazed up at the tree, and placed his hands on her rough bark.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I will take only what I need.”
He tore it from her, flinging it out behind him like stardust, and her oldest leaves started to turn yellow and fall, but her topmost branches were still green when Levi finally lowered his hands, his breathing harsh and his face streaked with tears.
It hurt more to grow them back than it had to cut them off in the first place, he thought. He gathered his supplies and his bladed staff before taking to the air on new-minted wings, strong enough to carry him swift and sure in Eren's wake, and to whatever awaited them beyond.