Left Behind

Ravenna draped her wool cloak around her shoulders and stepped out of her warm cottage into the chilly autumn air. Usually the village of Haebard was quiet and still at such an early hour, but that morning was different. Nearly everyone was already awake and moving about outside–and yet there was a tense hush over the small village.

She made her way to the camp on the edge of Haebard to catch up with her husband, who had let her rest and take her time getting out of bed. Ravenna knew Aren would never intentionally leave without saying goodbye, but the king’s soldiers might not give him the luxury to linger. She quickened her pace, stepping around pools of rainwater that dimpled the muddy streets.

The sounds of camp grew louder as she approached. There was an unfamiliar man shouting orders, competing with the clanging of iron and steel ringing out from the blacksmith’s forge. Horses, donkeys, and dragons stamped and snorted nervously as they were harnessed to heavily-loaded wagons, and livestock handlers tried to keep the animals calm. Supplies and provisions intended for the army were carted out from the village. The war, which had seemed so distant just a few months ago, had arrived at their doorstep.

Somewhere, in the midst of everything, a baby’s wail cut through the air.

Ravenna’s breath caught in her throat, and she put a hand to her belly without even thinking. She was halfway through her first pregnancy, and it ought to have been a joyous time for the young couple. Though their happiness had been dampened by a series of trials that tore through their village since the war had begun, they always had each other… until the summons came a week ago.

The news that their village had dreaded the most finally came to pass: a royal summons for commoners to join the war effort as soldiers. Their kingdom, Dellivere, was in the midst of a conflict with three other kingdoms, fighting over territories at their shared borders. The four kingdoms had already decimated each other’s armies and now had need of reinforcements from the people of Dellivere after nearly seven months of fighting. No one wanted to go, but the king had ordered that every village give no less than one fifth of their able-bodied adults to the war effort–and he had sent soldiers to fetch them.

Aren was among those who were about to embark on a journey towards the fight, and she didn’t know when–or if–he’d return. But there was no getting around it. Ravenna’s parents were still alive and could look after their daughter as she carried her first child. Other villagers, however, weren’t as fortunate. Aren was going so that someone in a worse situation could stay home.

Ravenna pushed her hood back and scanned the crowd until she spotted her husband strapping supplies to their old workhorse. Aren’s long hair that shone golden in the sunlight looked dull in the semi-darkness of a foggy dawn.

“How are you feeling, my love?” Aren asked when she reached him. 

It was the same question he’d asked every morning since she told him she was with child, and her chest ached with the thought that he wouldn’t be there to ask her now. Tears welled in her eyes, and Aren ceased his preparations to take her into his arms.

She clutched the front of his shirt. “Don’t go,” she whispered, knowing that it wouldn’t make a difference. Everything there was to say had already been said. The decision was final.

Aren squeezed her tighter. “I will come back to you,” he said, but Ravenna shook her head.

“You can’t promise that,” she said, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

He took her face in his hands. “Nothing can keep us apart forever.”

She sniffed and wrapped her hands around his waist. They stood like that for a few stolen moments, but all too soon, the call went up that the newly-drafted soldiers had to start moving out. Ravenna’s heart sank.

“I must go,” he said hoarsely.

“Take this.” She slipped off the necklace she always wore and put it over his head. It was a simple leather cord with an iridescent white circular pendant strung on it. She had found it on the forest path as a child, likely lost by some merchant long ago, and though she didn’t know for certain whether it was enchanted or not, she always felt as if it had protected her with good luck when she needed it most. The necklace was the only way she could do anything to keep him safe.

Aren nodded, knowing how much the necklace meant to her. He tucked it safely under his shirt, then he knelt to kiss her belly. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he said. Then he pulled her close and kissed her. “I love you,” he murmured.

She swallowed hard. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

Another shout went up, and everyone around them was already moving towards the road. Aren swung up to his horse, and Ravenna stepped back, hugging herself against the waves of emotions crashing over her. He blew her one last kiss, and with that, turned and let his horse become swept up in the stream of new soldiers riding out.

Aren. The man she had known her whole life, a constant, steady presence in the village where they had grown up together, was gone.

Once he was out of sight, she turned towards home and found her parents approaching after watching Aren’s departure from afar. Ravenna took one look at their faces and broke down. They both put their arms around her, letting her sob until she was spent.

~~~

Work never ceased in Haebard, but the village was noticeably quieter than Ravenna had ever seen in her nineteen years. People didn’t whistle or sing, and no one was in the mood to celebrate the harvest–not that there was much of a harvest to celebrate anyway.

Haebard had just been through one of the most difficult summers that anyone in the village could remember. Even the younger generations had experienced the occasional droughts, floods, and blights, but never had the villagers endured such a strange growing season. They realized that the magical weapons being used in the war were not confined to the battlefields, despite the fight being hundreds of miles away. Throughout the summer, the villagers had contended with a series of unprecedented events. First, there were the most unnatural storms, bringing red clouds and howling winds that sounded like screaming. Then their streams became poisoned, causing sickness to anyone who drank from it and killing any plants that were watered by it, so they could only use their wells and hope that they would remain safe. Finally, hordes of unfamiliar insects appeared and feasted on their crops, laying waste to the fields and leaving behind a fraction of what had been planted.

As the autumn wore on, anyone who was able to reap the harvest did so. There were far fewer people in the village to do all the necessary labor, and Ravenna couldn’t sit idle and watch everyone around her toil. Her days were spent cooking, cleaning, carting firewood, tending livestock, preparing clothes for the baby–anything she was able to do as her belly continued to grow. Every evening, her back was sore, her feet hurt, and she felt dizzy with hunger and fatigue, but she found that keeping her hands busy and focusing on what she needed to do next helped to keep her from dwelling on Aren’s absence.

It was the nights that were the hardest, when her hands stilled and she lay alone in their bed, wondering where Aren was, if he was safe. Not knowing was pure agony. When sleep did finally take her, she had horrible nightmares, and waking to an empty cottage provided no relief.

How different this autumn was. She and Aren had been wed the previous autumn, just after the harvest. So much had changed. Ravenna spent their first anniversary in solitude, weeping.

One small comfort, if it could even be called that, was that the village was full of others like Ravenna who had been left behind. The people of Haebard had always relied on each other, as it was such a small village, but they drew closer to one another in their shared sorrow. Ravenna was most grateful for her cousin Cora, whose husband, David, was with Aren on the front. Their friendship deepened more than ever before, and Ravenna spent many hours in Cora’s home, helping her care for her three small children. Though the youngest took after Cora, with the same brown hair and brown eyes that Ravenna also shared, the two eldest children strongly resembled their father with green eyes and sandy hair. Watching these miniature reminders of David, Ravenna couldn’t help but wonder what her own baby would look like. 

She hoped her child would take after Aren.

When the harvest was over, the villagers were met with more bad news: they learned that a large percentage of what they managed to bring in was allocated to the army. The elders gathered the people to announce the royal proclamation, which was met with shock and immediate protests. Everyone knew that although there were fewer mouths to feed, they still hardly had enough for the remaining villagers to eat in the coming winter.

“Maybe we can hide some of it when they come to collect,” one man said after the elders had quieted the crowd. “How will they know?”

“We will know,” replied a woman. “My son is in that army–I won’t withhold food from him, or any of the others.”

“Are we to starve, then?” shouted another woman.

“We won’t starve,” said one of the elders. “We can hunt and trap in the forest. There are many berries still to be collected before winter, and mushrooms, too. In my youth, we had many slim harvests and the forest always provided. But we must stand together if we are to survive.”

~~~

With winter quickly settling in, word from the front was almost non-existent. All the messengers, and their horses and dragons, had been directed to the war effort and rarely passed through Haebard. The villagers had to rely on the occasional traveler or peddler for any news outside of their isolated world. From what scraps of information they heard, things were not going well, but the king refused to relent.

 With no end in sight, and very little food to go around, the village elders implemented strict rations for everyone to follow. The handful of pregnant and nursing mothers in the village were granted one and a half rations. For her baby’s sake, Ravenna tried to eat everything she was given–only to get sick later.

“I was the same way with you,” her mother said, smiling sadly as she handed Ravenna a handkerchief. “Let me make you some peppermint tea. That always worked for me.”

Ravenna wiped her mouth and sat back with a slow exhale. Guilt for wasting food at a time like this weighed heavily in her chest.

As if hearing her thoughts, her mother patted her hand. “This season won’t last forever.”

But the threat of starvation was on everyone’s minds. As the days grew colder and seemingly endless blizzards struck the village, hunters continued to search for game, struggling to find enough. Other predators in the forest were hungry, too. Most of the livestock was also collected for the use of the army, and without the protective presence of the dragons, the villagers were plagued by hungry foxes and wolves that came for the few animals that remained. Eventually, all livestock had to be butchered for the villagers’ survival. When that ran out, people began eating anything they could find: squirrels, birds, rabbits, even mice. They were lucky if they could catch one of the predators, gaining the fur as well as meat. They wasted nothing.

Ravenna’s twentieth birthday passed at the beginning of the new year, and she knew it wouldn’t be much longer until her time came. She clung to the hope that Aren would be home to experience the birth of their child, but one frigid day in late winter, just after her meager dinner, the pains started. She labored through the night, her mother and the old midwife tending to her. Then, as the sun rose the next morning, her son’s first cries filled the air.

The baby brought more joy during that bleak winter than Ravenna could have ever imagined. She didn’t stop missing Aren, and having a newborn wasn’t easy (even with the help of her parents), but when she held the tiny bundle in her arms, it felt like holding hope.

~~~

A sudden pounding on Ravenna’s door startled her, and she pricked herself with the needle. 

“They’re back!” she heard a boy yell from the street. 

Ravenna gasped. She rose, tossing aside her sewing, and threw open the door to find the whole village pouring out towards the road. Her hands trembled as she picked up her baby and hurried to join them.

They had received word from other villages that the war was over, and that a peace treaty had been reached. Their soldiers were coming home, but they had no idea how many would be there. The spring afternoon had brought a light mist, and one by one, the soldiers slowly emerged on foot from the forest path. Ravenna could tell right away it was far fewer than they all had hoped.

Clutching her baby to her chest, she strained to see Aren, but she couldn’t tell one from another at first. As they came closer, she could see that they all were covered in filth, their faces gaunt and tired–much like the villagers who had stayed behind, Ravenna realized, but the soldiers had a haunted look in their eyes.

Ravenna saw David walking at the front; he seemed to have become the leader. Cora ran to him and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over. Other villagers were doing the same to their soldiers, but many, like Ravenna, were still walking towards the group, looking for their loved ones.

Aren was nowhere to be seen.

But that couldn’t be right…

“David,” she said, gripping his arm when she found him again. 

He turned to her, and his face said everything.

“Tell me,” Ravenna said, her voice trembling. The baby in her arms began to fuss.

“We got separated on the battlefield,” David said softly. “I don’t know what became of him after that. I’m so sorry.”

“Then… then he could still be out there, couldn’t he?” she asked, hastily wiping at the tears.

“I don’t–” David started, but Cora cut him off.

“Maybe he is,” she said, putting an arm around Ravenna’s shoulders. The baby was fussing more now. “Come, let’s get him back inside where it’s warm.”

By the time Ravenna made it back to her cottage, the village was filled with a strange cacophony of weeping: some weeping for joy for the ones who did return, and others weeping with sorrow for those who did not.

A memorial service was held for those who lost their lives in the war. There were no bodies–they had been buried near the battlefields out of necessity, as the only way they could have been sent home before decaying was by way of magic or dragon flight, and the king wasn’t sparing either of those resources for the dead. Ravenna refused to let Aren’s name be included in the memorial, insisting that he be listed in the records as missing.

The villagers heard tales of the war from their soldiers, learning about the magical weapons that had been employed by the warring kingdoms to thwart not only the Delliverian soldiers, but the civilians as well. It wasn’t just their village that had been affected; hundreds of towns and villages had been struck by many of the same disasters. Of course, Delliverian mages had dealt their share of curses on their enemies, too. So many had died in all four kingdoms, and many more had–and would continue to–suffer from this war.

~~~

Life still marched on, and everyone was kept feverishly busy throughout the planting and growing seasons. Without the constant barrage of magical attacks on their land, they were able to work on cleaning up the damage left behind by the war, but it would take years for the land to fully recover. A royal deputy did pass through to take stock of the aftermath, but did not promise any immediate help from the crown. It seemed they would have to wait for those in power to assess the damage first.

The weary people of Haebard had no choice but to carry on. Of course, some were furious, talking about how pointless the war had been, how the land the four kingdoms had squabbled over was not worth the fight, that it was all just a selfish measuring contest among the four kings. Others were unsurprised, resigned to the knowledge that the king in his far away capital didn’t care about small subsistence villages such as theirs. Many people agreed that the abuse of magic was to blame. Haebard had never had much of a culture of magic besides their one healer and her apprentice–if anyone was interested in magical study, they always left the village to learn it elsewhere.

Days turned to weeks, and Ravenna thought of every possible reason for Aren’s absence, always dodging the one answer that she feared most of all. She asked anyone who passed through if they had heard of or seen her missing husband, but no one had. Over and over, she asked David and the other soldiers to recount what they could remember. It was always the same story. No one knew where Aren was.

After a month, Ravenna’s hope and optimism turned to frustration.

“How is it that no one knows anything?” she fumed, vigorously kneading bread dough in Cora’s kitchen one summer morning. “Someone must have seen something.”

Cora glanced out the open window at David chopping wood. “The battlefield was large, and more chaotic than we will ever comprehend,” she said carefully. “I’m sure they didn’t mean to lose track of each other.”

“But someone should have been keeping track,” Ravenna snapped, slamming the dough on the table. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Ravenna saw David stop his chopping to look up in concern. 

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. Or David’s fault.”

“It’s true, though,” Cora said. “The king should have people to keep track of the soldiers he needed for his war. You have every right to be angry.” She put a hand on Ravenna’s arm. “Anytime you need to talk, I’m here.”

Although Ravenna dearly cherished Cora’s friendship, sometimes it was too much to be in her home, seeing the couple happily reunited. On those days, she kept away, and hoped Cora understood. Alone, with only her baby to keep her company, she would contemplate taking the matter into her own hands. If only she could scrape enough together, perhaps she could afford to send someone to find him… but that thought slowly melted away in the summer heat. So much work had to be done in Haebard that even if she could pay, they couldn’t spare anyone.

She felt as if she was in a fog, despite the sunny days. Her mother had to remind her to eat, and when she did, nothing tasted good. She could barely bring herself to perform her daily chores. The only thing that got her out of bed was her son.

Her sweet boy. Oh, how he looked like his father.

~~~

Autumn brought drizzly days and longer, chillier nights. Her baby, full of energy and growing bigger every day, had started trying to crawl. Ravenna knew he would soon be toddling all around the cottage. He made her smile every day, and kept her busy enough to distract her from thinking too much about the fact that Aren had been gone nearly a year.

One stormy evening, Ravenna stirred the stew in her cauldron and absently stared out the window, watching the rain pelt the glass. The sky grew darker, and she thought she saw movement outside. Just as she was wondering who would be out in such weather, her door creaked open.

She usually didn’t lock her door until she went to bed, as it was common for friends and family to come and go all throughout the day, so at first she assumed it must be someone from the village. But when she did not meet familiar eyes, she gasped. 

A strange man in a hooded cloak stood in her doorway, dripping water onto the floorboards.

She leapt up, grabbed the fire poker, and held it with both hands, ready to swing. “Get out of my house!” she shouted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her son looking up in alarm from where he played quietly on a blanket she’d laid on the floor.

The man pushed his hood back. He was worn and scruffy, with a wild beard and matted hair. 

“Ravenna.”

Only then could she see past the layer of the last year that had rendered him so unfamiliar, and the poker clattered to the floor. “Aren,” she said breathlessly. She stood frozen as her mind raced to make sense of what she was seeing. 

“I’m home.”

Ravenna closed the distance between them in three strides, slamming into his arms for a tight embrace.

“You’re here,” she said over and over as they both wept. 

“I told you I would come back,” he said with a weak chuckle.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him hard, not caring that he was coated in mud and stank like a wet dog. 

When they finally broke apart, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Everyone else has been back for months,” she said, still bewildered. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you everything,” he said, but he was looking down at the empty cradle. “But first I must know: the baby…”

Ravenna smiled. “You have a son.” She crossed the room to the blanket and scooped the baby up. 

“A son,” Aren repeated, running a hand over his face. 

“This is Eldon,” Ravenna said softly. 

Aren’s eyes began to well up.

“Let’s get you out of this wet cloak first, and then you can hold him.”

Ravenna helped Aren out of his cloak with one hand while the baby stared wide-eyed at the stranger.

 “My son,” Aren murmured as Ravenna carefully placed Eldon in his father’s arms.

The baby started wailing at the sight of an unfamiliar man holding him. Aren rocked his son, singing softly to try to calm him. Ravenna’s heart swelled to nearly bursting at the sight of them together. It was like a dream. But it was real.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” Aren said to the baby, but Ravenna knew he was talking to her, too.

She sniffled and fetched each of them a handkerchief. “All that matters is that you’re here now,” she said.

 After a few moments, Ravenna took the distressed baby back into her arms. “He’ll get used to you.”

Aren wiped his face and nodded. “Sorry for the mess,” he said sheepishly, taking off his muddy boots.

“No matter,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Let’s get you warm and dry–and fed,” she added as Aren’s stomach growled loudly. Now that he had removed his cloak and jacket, she could see how thin he had become. “When was the last time you ate?”

“It’s been… a few days,” he said, sitting down heavily at their small table. 

With the much-calmer baby on her hip, Ravenna filled a bowl with the stew that was bubbling away over the fire. Aren hardly took the time to blow on it before gulping it down. Judging by their son’s cries, Eldon was as hungry as his father.

“Is he well?” Aren asked, watching Ravenna sit down on the bed to feed the baby. 

“Oh, yes,” she said with a smile. “He’s healthy and strong.”

“And you?” he asked, pulling his chair closer to his family. “Have you enough to eat? Are they taking care of you?”

Ravenna nodded. “I am well looked after,” she said. “And the harvest will be better this year.” She sighed. “We have so much to talk about.”

“Indeed,” he said, his gaze falling on his son. “Will you tell me about his birth?”

Ravenna obliged, and Aren listened as he gently held Eldon’s little hands and tiny feet, examining his fingers and toes as if he’d never seen a baby before. 

When she had finished the story, Aren took her hand.

“I wish I could have been there with you,” he said. “My place is here. I will never leave you again–either of you.”

More tears were shed as they held each other, interrupted only by the baby finishing his nursing. Aren watched Ravenna with admiration in his eyes while she placed Eldon in his cradle.

“I always knew you would make a wonderful mother,” he said. “You’re a natural.”

Ravenna laughed softly. “It wasn’t easy in the beginning,” she said, “but we learned together.”

She began to prepare a small bath for Aren. Their tub, which they also used for washing their clothes, was only large enough for an adult to squat in, but she knew the warm bath must seem like an incredible luxury. While she filled the tub with hot water from the fire and fresh cold water from the rain barrel outside, Aren peeled off the layers of his filthy clothing. He was still muscular, but much leaner than she had ever seen, and he was covered in various bruises and scratches. The worst of all was an angry red scar in the center of his back, a mark whose origin she couldn’t guess.

Ravenna had already heard many tales of the war from the other returned soldiers, but she wanted to hear his own story. Despite her curiosity, though, she resolved not to ask yet. She knew he would talk when he was ready. They had never kept secrets from each other, and sure enough, as he knelt to wash away the grime of the last year, he began to tell her what he had been through. 

Aren spoke of riding for three weeks, sleeping in cold, wet, muddy camps, and the conditions when they arrived at the front weren’t better. Winter came, and they were sent into battle.

“The horrors I saw there…” he said, staring at the fire. “Unimaginable.”

He was quiet for a few moments before resuming.

Spring brought peace at last, but Aren had been wounded during one of the final battles. He wasn’t even sure what manner of magic hit him; all he knew was a sudden, searing pain, and then everything went dark. Aren awoke in the healers’ tent near the battlefield a few hours later, and his wound was still being treated the following day when the rest of the soldiers left. He didn’t even have a chance to speak to anyone from their village to send a message home.

After a week, Aren had recovered enough to walk and was prepared to head towards home soon, but it was then that he was told he would be helping with cleaning up all the wreckage from the battles before he’d be permitted to leave. Dozens of other soldiers had been selected at random to stay as well.

“That was the final straw,” he said. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I was just… so angry. All this senseless fighting for a bit of land. What was it all for?”

His fists were clenched, and Ravenna felt her anger rising, too.

“And the king never once came to the front,” Aren went on. “He just sent us all to do the fighting for him, and now we were ordered to clean up the mess he forced us to make.”

Aren told her how he tried to escape with the help of a nurse who knew he had left behind a pregnant wife and took pity on him, but he was caught before he could flee. He refused to give up the name of the nurse who’d helped him. His superiors threw him in a makeshift cell, treating him as an attempted deserter. Many nights were spent there, with not even a straw mat to sleep on, and days were spent laboring, as he was meant to do in the first place, but with the addition of shackles.

“I admit: I almost gave up,” he said, closing his eyes at the memory. “But I couldn’t leave you like that.”

Ravenna squeezed his arm, and he put his hand over hers.

He continued, saying that once they had cleared the battlefields, Aren was taken on a boat down the river to Fairhaven, a city far to the southeast of Haebard. Fairhaven had been a target of magical attacks during the war, and Aren spent the summer rebuilding the city, still a prisoner.

“They let me go nearly two months ago. Didn’t even give me any supplies,” he finished, exhaustion in his voice.

Indignation burned in Ravenna’s chest. “No supplies? How did you make it all the way here?”

“Trading work for scraps,” he said, rinsing off the last of the soap suds. “I met some very kind people and helped as much as I could. People just didn’t have much to give.”

“I’m glad to hear there is still some goodness out there.” Ravenna sighed, releasing her anger for the time being so that she could focus on caring for Aren. “Come,” she said, handing him a towel. “Let’s get you to bed.”

After drying off, Aren crawled under the quilts without dressing. Ravenna kissed his forehead, and he was asleep before she even had a chance to put out the candles. 

Ravenna woke early the next morning to Eldon’s hungry cries, and in her groggy state, it took a moment before the memory–and emotions–of the night before came flooding back. Aren was sound asleep next to her, his arm draped over her waist. She carefully slipped out from under his arm, not wanting to disturb him, and sat at the edge of the bed to tend to Eldon.

A few minutes later, she heard Aren stirring behind her.

“This is by far the best thing I have ever woken up to,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her and Eldon.

The couple decided to have a quiet breakfast together before preparing to go out into the village to tell everyone that Aren had returned home. When Ravenna finally stopped bustling about the room and sat down to eat, Aren spoke the words she never thought she’d hear again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

A lump formed in Ravenna’s throat. She looked at him, sitting wrapped in a quilt in their little sunbeam-filled cottage, listening to their son babbling in his cradle, and smiled. “I’ve never felt better.”

After their meal, Ravenna opened the trunk at the foot of the bed.

“We need to get you decent,” she said, pulling out a shirt and a pair of trousers. “I’m afraid I don’t have many of your clothes left. I kept some so Eldon would have something of yours, but I gave almost all of it away. People were in need and I thought…” Her voice caught.

“It’s alright, my love,” Aren said, cupping her face in his hands.

Once Ravenna had composed herself, she began to dress as well. Aren’s rain-soaked, filthy clothes and hair had seeped muck into her dress during their reunion the night before, so she put on one of her only other dresses. It was old and stained, but it was cleaner than the clothes in the pile of washing. 

Aren’s old clothes hung loosely on him, but after he combed his beard, he looked more like how she remembered him. His long hair, however, was too matted to run a comb through.

“We might have to shave it off,” Ravenna said, frowning. “I’m not sure I can fix it…”

“It will have to do for now,” Aren replied, tying it back.

Ravenna was dressing Eldon in a warm jacket when there was a familiar knock on the door. Ravenna’s mother entered–and nearly fainted at the sight of Aren. Her excited cries rang through the crisp morning air, drawing a few people’s attention. They quickly determined that there was nothing amiss, that in fact there was finally some good news, and word spread through the village like wildfire. Everyone was astonished to see him home, and of course wanted to know what happened. Aren was prepared for the questions, but kept the story short, and soon most people dispersed to get back to work. Only his closest friends and family remained, tearfully reuniting with the man they thought they would never see again.  

They, too, had to get back to work, but that evening, as the sky darkened, they packed into David and Cora’s house for as much of a feast as they all could muster together to celebrate Aren’s return. Though the meal itself was humble, it didn’t dampen their spirits. 

“I’ve got something for you,” Aren said when they finally returned home. He dug around the pile of clothing on the floor, then produced something from one of the pockets. “The cord broke, but I didn’t lose it. The healers told me it’s made from unicorn horn–so you were right, it did protect me after all.”

He opened his hand to reveal the necklace she’d given him.

The leather cord had been re-tied where it had snapped, which made it too small to go over his head anymore, and the whole thing was caked in dry mud, but there was no mistaking the iridescent white pendant. Against all odds, her necklace was back home, safe and sound. Just like Aren.