Siren Song (The Fated #1)

Epilogue

He missed Natia.

A faint pout played across his lips as he watched his mama and papa argue. The doll in his hands felt lifeless. It's knitted head laid against its chest, the strings holding it on having frayed at some point during their trip over the mountains. He knew he should show it to Mama, but she was busy. She had to focus on the siren. He would just have to be careful. Once they got to the other side there'd probably be a town. She could fix it for him then.

Usually, regardless of its condition, the doll was enough to entertain him for hours. He would meld the frayed yarn figure in front of him with the pictures that played out in his mind of things that had happened, and things that had yet to come.

But, now, the images kept slipping away as the memory of the monster sending Natia flying interrupted his game. His chest hurt. When the rocks fell, they were blocked off from looking for her and Heron. Ian had disappeared, too. He wasn't supposed to hear, but Papa told Mama that Ian had gone after them before the monster made everything fall.

He shuddered as his mind provided the image of Ian crushed beneath the rocks.

When he slept, he'd have to look for them. Mama would be mad, but it was okay. He wasn't bad often, so once would be fine. He'd make sure Natia and the others weren't cold, then he'd be good for... forever. That would be enough, right?

Mama shouted something he didn't understand. Papa mumbled. They must have been talking about the bad man again. They always talked with weird words when it was about him.

He wasn't supposed to know about the bad man. Mama didn't tell him until he saw him in his dreams. She said not to be upset, and that he'd never meet him. He wasn't sure she was right. But, she seemed scared about it, so he said okay.

Mama angry walked away, and after telling him to stay in the tent, Papa followed her. For a moment, he listened. He was only supposed to be bad when he went to sleep that night, so leaving the tent would be against his rule. But, the longer he stared at the doll, the more bored he got. Plus, the tent flap had pretty, glowing lavender threads floating through it. Twisting and tying around them were red ones, too. He hadn't seen that before.

His parents didn't like when he saw threads. They said it was okay, and asked him questions, but he could tell it was a lie. Mama only pinched her lips real tight when she was worried. And she did it every time he saw the threads, like when she told him the color was lavender, not purple. That was important to remember, she said. It was probably because of the gods thing.

He stood up, and reached real high to touch the intertwined threads that floated towards him. They greeted him, twisting around his wrist with familiar warmth. It felt like the dragonfly man.

'It shouldn't be possible,' the dragonfly man's voice told him. 'But you should go to her. I feel fate twisted into your choice.' There was a pause. 'They've hurt too many for this to fail here, young one.'

He nodded, and could feel happiness pulse through the threads. 'Don't tell your mother. It's another secret, okay?'

The dragonfly man always said that. Mama told him to never keep secrets, but it felt important to listen to the dragonfly man. Perhaps he wasn't a good boy. That made three rules he was breaking today.

The lavender strings disappeared, but the red ones remained. He followed them outside, then paused to see if anyone was watching. Sometimes Papa could tell when he wasn't going to listen, and would ask one of the others to keep an eye on him. At first, the coast looked clear, but then the familiar, white-threaded color of his uncle appeared in the corner of his vision.