Meadow

The sun peaks, soon swallowed by dark clouds and the dark promise of snow. There would be a darkness that would swallow the land, and they would disappear into the shroud of snow. His skin, thickened by the winter, would protect him. Blanketed in the white, he would disappear, with only his one bright eye to see through the fog.

A boy, small and gangly, crashes into the trees and makes him twist his pale neck even more, now staring long and hard at the two of them. One startled, the other too distracted by his folly to be aware of Anawar’s looming presence in the dark.

He wore invisibility well.

Apologies and introductions, so ungraceful at such a young age. Had he ever been like that? No, he suspected that his father never would have let him become an embarrassment- despite his father being a humiliation.

Twisting body and turning towards them, he is addressed by the other man, bluntly throwing words through the trees. The boy still splayed out on the ground. “Of Lyov.” He observes, aware of the stranger’s existence only through words once exchanged by his father long, long ago. The strangers had been kings- though he had never seen them in their full glory.

“Anawar, born of the Cove.” The name carried weight.

It had memories.