Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The chilly water of the lake felt wonderful around his palms, easing the aches and cuts and blisters that had formed there during the day’s work. It was always so during the later months of summer – making his way slowly across the golden fields of wheat and straw, he’d have fallen a little out of habit of clutching the hard wooden handle of the scythe in his hands. But at least he wasn’t the only one who could complain of such – he had seen Wolffe and Fox grimacing to each other as they’d joined him on his way to the lake early in the evening, wanting, too, to relieve the first scathing blisters risen on their skin. They’d get used to it again, he knew, and forget it all the same next winter when there’d be snow to shovel and ice holes to carve and wood to chop to keep all of them warm inside, but for now it was enough to dive beneath the surface for at least this sort of relief.

He could hear two of his brothers making their way into the lake as well, sighing in relief just like he had, splashing each other as they’d done when they had still been children. Out of sight of all their younger siblings – and Alpha, most importantly – Fox and Wolffe were just as fond of lunging at each other’s throats as the younger sets of twins were. Cody wasn’t certain why his watchful eye didn’t get the same treatment of avoidance as Alpha’s, but he couldn’t complain either way – it was one of the few perks of being the second son, he supposed.

“Stop that,” he could hear Fox hissing, and then a splash of water immediately after – “Ack! You – “

Cody turned to glance over his shoulder, just in time to see Wolffe’s gruff laughter turn into a yell as Fox wrestled him down into the water, pulling his head below the surface and holding him down as the other kicked viciously, made evident by the ripples that circled around the spot where he’d been dragged under. Fox swore as Wolffe managed to land a kick somewhere where it hurt, and Cody stifled a chuckle.

“Mind your tongue,” he scolded, knowing it would’ve warranted, at best, a roll of Fox’s eyes if he’d not been otherwise occupied. “And let him go – you’ll drown him.”

“And he’ll deserve every moment of it,” Fox grumbled, but relented and leapt away from the spot to allow Wolffe to emerge, shaking his head furiously as he brushed his wet hair back over his head with his fingers, blinking the water out of his eyes. He turned blindly, searching for Fox, who ducked his head underneath the cold surface before Wolffe could force him under in retaliation.

“You’re no better than Echo and Fives,” Cody called out to them, not unkindly.

“Why, stack them both on top of one another and they’ll reach up to our knees,” Fox yelled back, and it was Cody’s turn to roll his eyes, then. Granted, Echo and Fives were the youngest of their three sets of twins with only ten summers to their names, but nobody could deny they were growing fast – a little faster, perhaps, than Cody might’ve liked. They were not yet as tall as Bly or even Rex, perhaps, who seemed to have stubbornly refused to stop growing at all, but they were going to be taller than most, Cody suspected. Taller, perhaps, than Fox and Wolffe, who had grown naturally into wide shoulders and thick waists, the same as him, but not so much into the lean, near-lanky bodies some of their other brothers shared.

But it was the prime time, it seemed, to quarrel about such things now, with the work of the day done and the sun slowly sinking beneath the treetops in the distance on the other side of the lake. They had ample time to return home, to take more than the hour they needed to make the walk, shoving at each other and making stupid jokes and singing out-of-tune, bawdy songs that they’d never have the audacity to even hum close to home. And they’d come back the next day, and the next, with more of their siblings, perhaps, seeking again the cooling comfort of the lake, until the sun would begin to come down quicker and quicker and the callouses would have hardened on their palms and feet.

It was a good life, Cody thought, stretching out in the water with a lazy yawn he could allow himself. A simple life. The only one he had, now that he thought about it – one that he’d never thought about trading in favour of something else.

And just as he dove once and resurfaced, soaking his own hair, thinking whether he might float on his back and watch the darkening sky for a few minutes, letting the lingering light paint everything in his vision blue, he heard –

“Cody!” – a high-pitched call sounded on the wind, and Cody knew all three of them snapped their heads back to the shore as one. “Wolffe, Fox! Hey, hey! Cody, Wolffe, Fox!”

 Cody squinted at the small figure that clambered down the grassy dunes, waving their hands and shouting at them all the while. He couldn’t see them clearly, but it was easy to recognize the piercing voice, even with him being the furthest away from the shore. Wolffe was closest – he shook his head in clear disapproval and made his way over the sand, climbing out of the lake just in time to jump at the small ball of lighting that was trying to evade him and grab them by the armpits, lifting them into the air just as they were getting ready to run into the water.

“Are you out of your mind, Meg?” Wolffe asked her, shaking their littlest sister a little as she kicked at him, giggling all the while, squirming to escape his hold. “How did you get here?”

“Did you follow us?” Cody asked, panting as he swam closer to the shore, the features of their sister’s grin growing clearer and clearer as he neared the two. Fox elected to stay in the water, though he watched them with clear amusement on his face.

“I wanted to come with,” Omega explained, still kicking her short legs into Wolffe’s stomach, though the impact was clearly not any more a disturbance to him than a collision with a fly would’ve been. “It was so-o hot today! But Dad doesn’t let me go anywhere without him or Alpha, and it’s such a hassle to get Alpha to go anywhere these days – all he wants to do is go on walks with that Ti girl…”

Cody laughed freely at her tirade, delivered all while still squirming in Wolffe’s arms. He glanced at his brother, who took a break from staring dryly at Omega to look up at Cody, a small smile crooking his lips.

“Think Shaak will bring her dowry to Father eventually?”

Cody shook his head, grinning. “Tis’ Shaak? Too good for Alpha, I’ll say. But who knows? Maybe she found out he can carry her in spite of being a head shorter and fell head over heels for him.”

“Imagine falling head over heels for Alpha,”  Fox snickered from behind them – he’d given in and come close as well, though stayed in the water, sitting down on the sand so the shallow water went up to his chest.

“You be careful bad-mouthing Shaak,” Wolffe warned jokingly. “That’ll be your sister-in-law soon, it seems.”

“I’ll have a sister?” Omega piped up cheerfully, holding on to Wolffe’s shoulder – she’d stopped kicking, seemingly just happy to be involved in her brothers’ conversation.

Wolffe grinned, bouncing her a little on his hip. “Why, half the girls in the village, if Father is to be believed. At your age, Bly was already arranging his marriage to the little – you know, the little witch, whose was she?”

“Securas’ Aayla,” Fox reminded, and Wolffe clicked his tongue with a nod.

“The ranger’s daughter?” Cody allowed himself a smile – their father hardly ever kept quiet about his hopes that each of his children might eventually find their love, Cody included, no matter how many times he told him that he wasn’t particularly interested in such. He couldn’t help it – none of the village girls had ever drawn his eye, and though they might have thought him arrogant for it, he was not; he was simply focused on other things, he liked to think.  “She’ll eat him alive.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure, Cody.” Fox tilted his head, clicking his tongue in doubt. “It’s been eleven years since Bly’s been five, and his head is still on his shoulders.”

“A miracle from the gods above, no doubt,” Cody deadpanned, and Wolffe added, laughing –

“Or a mercy, courtesy of that Aayla’s kind heart.”  All three of them shared a laugh, now, Omega staring with wide eyes at each of them before beginning to squirm again. “Ugh, okay, okay! What do you want, Meg?”

“I wanna swim – in the lake, with you!” she whined, smacking her tiny fists against Wolffe’s shoulder until he finally let her down. But before she could bolt for the ripples that lapped lazily at the sand, it was Cody who leaned down to grab her by the arm. “Cody! Let me go!”

“You can go in the lake with us, but you have to promise to stick with one of us the whole time, okay?” he said, crouching down and grabbing her by the chin to force her to look at him as she fussed. “You’ve got to promise, Meg.”

“Eugh!” She shook her whole body, but eventually relented, pouting as she stared back at him. “Okay, okay. I promise. I’ll stick with you, okay? You’ll throw me up like Dad does?”

“I will,” Cody promised in turn, smiling as he tapped gently at her shoes. “You’re going to need to take off your shoes and dress, though. Do you need any help with that?”

“Untie my shoes,” she asked, and so he did, carefully undoing the loops around her ankles as she peeled off her dress over her head, messing up her curls entirely – it made Cody huff in amusement, though it was nothing he couldn’t smooth over with a few brushes of his hand.

As soon as he was done, she kicked off the shoes and ducked under his arm to bolt for the water – he didn’t stop her, knowing the cold would stall her for a moment as he picked up her dress and shoes to toss them into the same pile with their shirts, pants and boots before returning to the water.

He’d been right – Omega was walking into the lake slowly, hands curled into fists and pressed to her chest as she braced for the chill of the water. Only older by a single summer, Boba had already fallen into the habit of diving headfirst into the lake whenever they were there all together, but Omega had never done such – in spite of her eagerness, Cody thought, she was more careful than most of them.

Still, she was his sister, and nobody would fault him for what he was about to do.

Omega screeched, leaping away from him as he splashed her gently – only a bit, only so she’d be startled. He chuckled, watching her expression twist in surprise, then betrayal, then surprisingly potent rage as she slapped the surface of the water back at him. He pretended to cover himself for fear of it, though he could hardly say it bothered him, having been submerged already – it seemed to soothe Omega for the moment though, a trembling snicker escaping her as she sped up her pace to keep him from splashing her again.

Once she was used to it entirely, he fulfilled his promise, letting her stand on his knee before throwing her upward and letting her dive down where it was a little deeper, hearing her laugh as soon as her head would breach the surface again. She paddled to him over and over again, asking to repeat it until his already tired legs were aching from all the leaps – he passed her to Fox, then, listening absentmindedly to her squeal in delight as Fox swam with her where she – or he – could no longer reach the bottom.

Cody sighed, throwing his body backward to float on his back as he’d intended at first. The sun was still shining, although now red and large in the distance, letting the first of the brightest stars peek through the purple and blue clouds. It was quiet here, interrupted only by the gentle wind shuffling through the tops of the pinetrees on the shore, the last evening songs of the birds, the occasionally interrupting calls of his brothers and sister. It was the exact sort of relaxation his mind – and tired body – had been craving after the day. Perhaps they could stay there a bit longer, listening as the birds and the woods grew quiet…

It was natural, he supposed, that it was Omega who began complaining of the chilly water before the rest of them – her small body only had so much heat to spare, and it wasn’t too long before Wolffe – when had she ended up with Wolffe? – was ushering her to shore, letting her giggle at the wrinkles that had appeared on her fingers.

“Help her dress!” Cody called, to Omega’s indignation.

“I can dress myself!”

“She can dress herself,” Wolffe grumbled, wading past Cody as he dove back into the water. Cody shook his head, but nevertheless waited for Omega to pick up her dress, watching her so she wouldn’t decide to leave herself unclothed, not quite realizing yet how easy it was to catch a cold like that.

Omega noticed him watching her, pouting her lips in defiance as she marched over to pick up her dress, pulling it upward –

 - And squeaked loudly, jumping away from it, dropping the dress and stumbling backwards, tripping over her own feet.

“Meg?” Cody called, a sharp stab of worry driving into his stomach as he waded through the water, cursing its resistance against his body as Omega scrambled to get away from the pile of clothing, staring still at whatever had scared her.

By the time Cody had rushed out of the water, Wolffe and Fox were both just behind him, concern having rendered them quiet – a thousand possibilities rushing through all their heads, Cody knew. Omega wasn’t frightened of bugs or small critters – whatever had made her so upset couldn’t have been so mundane, then.

She reached out with her hands, quiet tears welling up in her eyes, and Cody hoisted her up into his arms without asking questions, shushing her gently as Fox stopped by them, running a hand down her trembling arm, soothing. Both looked out as Wolffe rounded them to get to the pile of clothes, leaning down carefully to inspect it.

“What did you see, Meg?” Fox asked her, running his hand down her back as she turned it to them, squishing herself into Cody’s chest, burying her face in his neck. “What was it?”

“A – A creature,” she murmured, voice small, though even. “It was – It was long, and, and – and it was moving, and it was going to – “

“Oh,” Wolffe said, huffing as he took a step back from the pile but leaned down closer still. “Well, would you look at that.”

“It was going to bite me!” Omega cried out, shaking her head wildly. Cody pressed his palm to her curls, bouncing her in his arms as though she were a babe again, and looked out to Wolffe.

“What is it, Wolffe?” he asked, gently passing Omega to Fox, who accepted her without protest, letting her stay behind as Cody neared his other brother.

As soon as Wolffe answered, Cody saw it himself.

“A snake,” Wolffe said, almost thoughtful as he regarded it. Indeed, there – in the sleeve of Cody’s shirt, there was a large, coiling snake. It stilled, though, seemingly just as frightened of them as Omega had been of it, but, unlike a snake perhaps ought to have done, did not slither in attempt to get away – neither did it lunge at them to attack.

And Cody could see, easily, why – to the sides of its head, there were two little patches of yellow; almost like yellow dandelion dust, framing its eyes, giving its glittering scales a different hue. In the grass, it would’ve been near-invisible – in the sleeve of Cody’s shirt, though, it stuck out immediately.

“A grass snake,” Cody clarified, though Wolffe raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well?” Fox asked, settling Omega with one hand – Omega, who had taken to peeking at the ordeal carefully over her own shoulder, tears still pooling in her eyes. “Just kill it and let’s get moving!”

Cody blinked – before he could react, Wolffe was leaning down to fish for a stone or a piece of rubble from the ground, muttering, “Yeah, give me a moment.”

“Wait, hold on, hold on.” Cody raised his arms, pulling Wolffe back up with one of them. “Don’t kill it.”

Again, Wolffe raised his eyebrow at him – the expression, Cody thought, was more befitting of Alpha or their father than him. “What do you suggest we do? Give it your shirt? It won’t thank you, you know.”

“It’s a grass snake, you damned hare.” Cody pointed at the snake with his chin, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I can see that it’s a snake – “

Cody rolled his eyes, crouching down next to his shirt. “It’s just curious – it’s more scared of us than we are of it. It doesn’t even bite.”

“It doesn’t bite?” Omega called from Fox’s arms, squirming until he sighed and put her down.

“It doesn’t,” Cody confirmed, reaching out a hand to her, beckoning her over. “No grass snakes do. Come here, I’ll show you.”

Eyeing the snake uncertainly, Omega still made her way to him, step by doubtful step until she could put her tiny hand in Cody’s, wrapping the other tightly around the back of his neck. “Are you sure it won’t hurt me?”

“Why would it? Come on, Meg, you’re ten times the size of the little fellow.” He smiled, squeezing her side gently until she gave a cut-off giggle, leaning forward to look at it. “It’s wary of you. Wouldn’t you be frightened if you were just walking about in the woods and suddenly a giant began shouting at you?”

“Boo!” Omega yelled, cheer coloring her voice – and, to her credit, the snake shrank back defensively, dragging its head back to rest on some part of its tail. Still, Cody shushed her.

“That’s not very nice,” he scolded, though Omega only snickered, shoving her face into his hair. “Omega! It’s a wonderful animal, a grass snake. It doesn’t bite, it doesn’t hurt people. It protects our homes. You shouldn’t go out of your way to hurt that which isn’t threatening you.”

“Like spiders?” she asked, pulling away, her large eyes focused on his.

“Exactly like spiders,” Cody agreed. “The way spiders clear up the flies going around, the snakes make sure that we’re never overrun with mice.”

She hummed, eyes darting to look at the snake, and then pointed out, “But some snakes bite.”

Cody tilted his head, then nodded. “Some do. It’s not good to disturb any snake, but do you know how to tell grass snakes apart from the rest?” At the shaking of her head, he pointed at the little thing again, who was watching them now with almost apparent curiosity. “See the little yellow dots around its eyes?”

“The little ears?” she asked, chuckling.

“If you say so,” Cody agreed, smiling at her improved mood. “Only grass snakes have them. It’s said that, a long time ago, the gods above noticed that people were killing all snakes – even those that were doing them no harm. So they let two drops of sunlight fall from the skies and onto the snake – so that it may be marked, and the people might now that it is no threat to them, and leave it alone.”

Eyes wide and fascinated, Omega turned to inspect the snake closer. “Those are pieces of the sun?”

“Some say so.”

Behind them, Wolffe cleared his throat, arms crossed over his chest. “Any other ideas on how to coax it out of there, then? If we’re not going to kill the sun-kissed snake?”

“We can’t!” Omega called now, turning sharply to him. “Didn’t you hear? It was marked by the gods!”

“So we won’t, we won’t,” Wolffe relented, bowing his head. “But we need to do something. Unless – “

“Unless Cody wants to go home shirtless and explain to Father than he decided a snake needed the shirt more than he did,” Fox finished for him – and in spite of the mock concern over his face, Cody could tell easily he was stifling a snicker.

“Yes, well, of course I’m not going to do that,” Cody muttered, letting Omega go from his arms. “Go to them, Meg. I’ll figure something out.”

“Can I watch?” she asked, curious now, raising a hand to her mouth to bite the nail of her thumb. Cody pulled her hand away by the wrist gently.

“Alright, but don’t get startled, okay?”

“I promise,” she said, bouncing on her toes eagerly, eyes darting from Cody to the snake and back. “It doesn’t bite, right?”

“Right. Well, if you promise…”

He turned to the snake, examining it again, feeling Omega’s curious stare from behind him. The little creature was long, indeed, larger than most grass snakes Cody had seen in his lifetime, but still a familiar inky colour, the scales shinning and glittering in the dying sunlight. And the golden tints to its horns – or ears, however Omega liked it best – was unmistakable.

And it was watching him – certainly, closely, and Cody thought to himself with a little chuckle that it seemed almost as if it could understand him, if he spoke to it, its eyes round and piercing. Silly, naturally – but if he was going to try and pick it up or shake it out of the shirt, he might as well be polite.

Cody’s mother had been particular about such things – about the manners one must have possessed to go out into the woods, about respect and care for all living things. Fox and Wolffe could disregard them all they liked – Cody had not once suffered for a simple courtesy, and figured it would not make things worse now, either.

“Hey there,” he muttered to the little snake, and thought – stupidly, perhaps – that it tilted its head a little at his voice. Almost as though it was listening to him. “Hey there, little snake. Won’t move, will you?” 

“He’s talking to it,” said Fox, behind him. “He’s gone mad.”

“Oh, well, we all knew it’d come sooner or later,” seconded Wolffe, a false lamenting to his tone. He sounded like he was straining for something. “Oh, Meg, come, I can’t bear to look at him.”

Though she giggled at their antics, Omega did turn around and walk to them, leaving Cody alone to figure it out. And so Cody did – he thought if only he could take the shirt, perhaps the snake would be frightened enough to slither away and leave them be – hopefully it wouldn’t huddle even closer to the sleeve, though perhaps if he was careful he could close it as well and shake it out without needing to so much as touch it.

As he reached out – and the snake shrank back, again, almost as if it was letting him gently coax it out –

A pebble hit its tail, flying from underneath Cody’s arm. The snake hissed wildly, baring its wide mouth for a moment – Cody flinched instinctively, but the snake didn’t seem concerned with him. Instead, it turned, and, in a flurry of movements, crawled out of the shirt sleeve and disappeared into the tall grass around it, leaving not a trace in its wake.

Cody snapped his head back to see Wolffe shaking out his hands, grinning.

“There we go,” he said, stretching out his arms, almost lazily. “And we’ve done away with the problem.”

“Idiot,” Cody bit at him, grabbing a handful of gravel and flinging it at him – laughing, Wolffe just spun out of the way. “I almost had it!”

“Uh-huh, whatever you say.” Wolffe passed him, grabbing his own shirt to pull it over his head, throwing Fox his. “Want to help Meg dress?”

“I can dress myself!” Omega objected again, insistent, but, before taking her dress, looked around warily – then glanced up at Cody, large dark eyes peering straight through him. “Are you – sure there’s nothing else in there? Could you check?”

“Oh, just…” Cody sighed, then deliberately breathed in and out. Being angry with his brothers wouldn’t change anything – and it was just a snake, after all. “For sure. Come here, I’ll check your shoes, too.”

They dressed quickly, after that – though they’d not agreed to end their swim at the lake there, Cody figured all of them had had enough adventuring for the day. Fox and Wolffe spoke quickly between themselves, Omega cutting in occasionally, reaching out again to be picked up – this time it was Wolffe who obliged her, grinning as he argued with her for how long he’d carry her. No more than halfway, he said – Cody knew, though, that then she’d jump straight onto Fox.

Still, before leaving, he couldn’t help it – he turned back to the field next to the lake and let his gaze dart over the tall grasses – shimmering green, with no sight of the snake or any other creature within. Its hiss had seemed less angry and more – hurt, in a way, movements hurried and frantic as it wriggled away.

“I’m sorry, little snake,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest – then turned away, running a few steps to catch up with his siblings.

At least, Cody thought, it was early in the morning. If nothing else, the sun wasn’t beating down on him so viciously; and even if it had been, it was the shade of the linden trees that grew by the shore that he was seated in, the soft grass and moss beneath him providing the cushioning that felt quite nice – better, perhaps, than even his own bed.

He’d left with the sunrise and made it to the lake just as it was beginning to get warmer after the comfortable cool of the night – it had taken him longer than usual, but now he had armfuls of flowers and grasses in his grasp, laid out carefully before him as he picked out the imperfections; torn, wilted or perhaps just unseemly. He had more than enough to be picky, anyway.

He counted them in batches, sorted them out by the number of flowercrowns he needed to make – one for himself, then one each for Boba and Tup, one for Rex – whatever he was doing, he’d said he was too busy to make it for himself… Boil and Waxer had promised him their share of the wild strawberries if he could string theirs up, and Omega had decided, eagerly, to make her own this year – perhaps that was what shamed Fives and Echo into following along…

He separated them into piles and counted – himself, Rex, Waxer, Boil, Tup, Boba…

Shaking his head, then, he repeated – himself, Boba, Tup –

“Ah,” he muttered to himself, gently bringing all the plants together again with a huff of frustration, even as he couldn’t help but let his face curve into a smile. He’d forgotten Alpha – hurriedly, he’d caught Cody by the arm the night before and asked if he could make his flowercrown. No matter how much Cody talked back or squirmed, Alpha had insisted until he’d finally agreed, even though he muttered still – Alpha had all the free time in the world, he thought, spending half of it out, as had been their brothers’ words, with the Ti girl. Could he not give up one walk out in the village to make a flowercrown that he was going to put on her head anyway?

He shook his head, feeling the way his own smile grew crooked, and sorted the plants out anew. What was done was done – Cody had made his promise, and never truly enjoyed breaking his word.

Leaning back just a little bit, he counted again – himself, Alpha, Rex, Waxer, Boil, Tup, Boba –

“Happy Midsummer,” a voice called, interrupting his counting. Cody blinked, looking around –

“Happy Midsummer,” he replied on instinct, though he could not see where the unfamiliar voice had come from – nevertheless, it was always better to be polite when he was out in the woods. The voice was somewhat low, though not so deep as to be that of a grown man. Nobody older than Alpha, he thought, or perhaps even himself. Still – where were they? “I – I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t see you?”

The owner of the voice chuckled – it was a soft sort of thing, gentle. “Down here.”

Cody glanced down, almost stupidly expecting them to be down in the lake – he was seated on somewhat steep ground, either way – but was met with nothing; only the tall grasses, the tips of which swayed gently with the wind. Blowing out a breath, he shook his head, blinking quickly, wondering if perhaps the heat had gone to his head.

The voice sounded once again – almost melodic, now, it seemed. “A little lower, please.”

Furrowing his brows, Cody let his gaze sink to the very ground, and –

There, peeking out from between the grasses, was the glittering and unmistakably spotted head of a grass snake.

Cody blinked.

Twice.

“I – “ he began, and realized he didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Forgive me, are you – the grass snake, there?”

The grass snake’s head twitched – as if reacting to his voice. He saw a flash of its forked tongue, and –

“That would be me, yes.”

Cody blinked again. Shook his head. He could hear the voice so clearly – as clearly as though it was right in front of him, but – what could it be? A faery? A changeling, perhaps? Either way, it was best to be polite with creatures of sound mind – if nothing else, that was what he retained from his family’s teachings.

But he could all but hear the smile in the grass snake’s voice, and suddenly Cody found himself at a loss for words.

“Oh,” the grass snake said – hissed, perhaps, its tongue flashing between its teeth again, and now it sounded almost taken aback. “No, please don’t be startled. I mean you no harm – as, well, as I’m certain you know.”

Cody nodded, slowly, and opened his mouth – but, lost again, closed it anew. It was strange to be caught in a situation like this – Cody wasn’t used to needing to search for words.

Then again, he supposed it wasn’t every day that he met talking grass snakes, either.

“Well,” the grass snake said, and made a sound that seemed almost as though it was swallowing something – “I don’t mean to stay long, or to disturb you. You were making flowercrowns, yes?”

Finally, Cody regained the use of his tangled tongue, nodding. “I was,” he confirmed, lifting one of the piles of grasses in a certainly redundant gesture. “Yes, for me and my brothers. For Midsummer night.”

“Ah,” the grass snake hummed, knowledgably. “And they’ve left you all the work?”

Cody chuckled, trying to rid himself of the strange feeling in his chest as the snake peeked its head a little further out from the tall grasses, its lean body piling onto itself as it came a little closer. “Allegedly, they were busy. Though I suppose it’s in the nature of brothers to try and shrug off as much of the work on the others as possible.”

“Don’t I know it,” it sighed, and, almost imperceptibly, shook its small head. “I have a brother myself, see. And a sister.”

“Oh,” Cody said, and, unthinking, drew up his legs a little bit. He only noticed it when the snake stopped crawling closer, perhaps thinking it had startled him. “Do they also – uh…” Wondering if it was impolite to ask it seemed a little too late, though, and Cody swallowed before finally managing, “Um – Do they talk as well?”

Again, there came a chuckle – gentle now, fond, perhaps as it thought of its siblings. “If they wish it. Though, in their opinion, it is me who surely talks too much and one day will be made into a snakeskin rug for my recklessness.” There was an odd sort of glimmer in its round eye, the familiar golden collar catching in the sun. “But, ah… I suppose even they could not argue this case. In the name of manners.”

Cody blinked, shaking his head a little again. “I – I’m not sure I follow?”

It sighed, and, uncaring of Cody’s reaction now, crawled fully out of the grasses, its body long and thick and glittering in the light. “Cody was your name, wasn’t it?”

“I…” He felt a sharp stab of cold in his stomach. How did it know? Even more importantly, why did it wish to know? The woods were not supposed to be given his name – nobody who valued their life’s name altogether. All the terrible stories of his childhood flooded him – duskdaubs dragging irresponsible children away underneath their homes, riverside laundresses leading young folk into thick swamps and leaving them to suffocate, and faeries, who, with one’s real name, could do whatever they pleased…

“And your siblings,” it called again, and Cody slowly moved a little backward – just a little bit, caught in the peering gaze of the grass snake as though he were skewered on it, “Fox and Wolffe and – Meg, wasn’t it? The little one…”

His mouth gone dry, he parted his lips to say something, but only managed a small breath – his younger siblings, had he revealed them to this snake somehow? How much did it know, and how? What was it – a true changeling, perhaps, a walking child of the woods…

“Oh,” the grass snake said, hurriedly, and withdrew its head to rest, familiarly somehow, on a front part of its thick tail. “Oh, no, please – I’m not here to scare you. Again, I mean you absolutely no harm – you’ll never hear that from a faery, will you?”

Cody tilted his head to the side, trying to calm the heart still pounding in his chest. “No, no, I… I suppose not.” That at least was true – more often than not, faeries did indeed mean harm, but the one limitation keeping them from expertly hiding it was their inability to lie. They would tip-toe around it, speak in metaphors as flowery as the blooms braided into their hair, but they would never say it outright. Nevertheless, it didn’t mean Cody didn’t value the weight of his name, given by his mother, not taken from the woods and thus not belonging to them – Fox and Wolffe’s names, for instance, had protections his and Omega’s did not.

“If it puts you at ease, Cody,” the grass snake said, seriously, “I can tell you my name, too.”

“That would – “ He stopped in his tracks. That would make it an exchange of some sort, or perhaps… Simply a courtesy. “In the name of manners, you said?”

“Certainly,” it chuckled. “It would be impolite not to, I suppose.”

“Okay, then.” Cody straightened up a little bit, waiting for lightning to strike him down or for the earth to swallow him. “What’s your name, little grass snake?”

“Obi-Wan, little human,” the grass snake answered, the same smile evident in its – or his, Cody supposed – voice. Surprisingly enough, upon him learning it, neither lightning nor earth took him in. “No littler than you, I will say.”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody said, tasting the word on his tongue – it was certainly not one he’d ever heard before, not even from the nearby villages’ children or the wandering caravans that stopped nearby every once in a while. “It’s… unique.”

“It’s all but ancient,” the grass snake agreed, tilting his head a little – it was a strange gesture for a reptile, Cody thought. “And, if my brother is to be considered, archaic. He believes it makes me sound terribly old.”

Cody couldn’t help but laugh – the notion that the brother of this grass snake poked fun at him the same way Cody and his brothers did at each other was nothing short of ridiculous. Fascinating, in some way. “Well, are you old? If I may ask?”

“I’m not certain what ‘old’ means to you,” Obi-Wan chuckled, the ringlets of his body piling up around him as he – settled in, in some way. Made himself comfortable, perhaps. “Do I sound old?”

Cody shrugged, surprised to see how relaxed his shoulders felt. “Not to my mind.”

“That’s nice to hear, then.” He made a small noise that resembled a huff and crawled up the sand a little until he was coiling at Cody’s bare feet – Cody breathed out, unwilling to move any further for fear of startling him. Granted, grass snakes weren’t supposed to bite – but they weren’t exactly supposed to talk, either. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t have disturbed your work, Cody – I’m certain preparations for Midsummer night are aplenty, but I’d been waiting a while to see you, I’m afraid.”

Cody furrowed his brows a little, brushing off his apologetic tone – why would he have been waiting for him?

“I…” Obi-Wan began, and then trailed off into a brief silence, turning his head away, sounding almost… ashamed. “I owe you a great debt, you see. I… owe you my life, as it were.”

“You…” Cody tilted his head, lost – what did he mean? When had he… And if so, what would it mean for him? “I don’t recall a grass snake owing me anything.”

“You’re a good man, if so,” Obi-Wan chuckled again, resting his head on the sandy ground. “That’s not to mention the very kind deed you did for me a few weeks ago.” With that, Cody blinked – could it have been… “I distinctly remember your brothers deciding to kill me, for convenience’s sake – but you had argued against them. You had wanted no part in harming what you saw as an innocent, unaware creature. And you might have just saved my life – I suppose I should not have been so naïve as to approach so closely in the first place, but what’s done is done now; and so it remains.” He lifted his head again, looking at Cody, who sat no less than speechless – “Thank you, Cody. For saving my life. I am very much in your debt.”

“I…” Cody looked closer at him – he wouldn’t have said that he could tell individual grass snakes apart, by no means, but this Obi-Wan and that snake seemed, at the very least, familiar, he supposed. Resting their bodies the same way, careful but steady in their movements. And it made sense, then – most grass snakes wouldn’t have approached people at all, he thought, so the fact that Omega found one in his shirt was – unusual, to say the least. “It was… the least I could do, Obi-Wan.”

“It may seem so to you.” There was the smile in his voice again – it was expressive; it was gentle, that way. “But these days many disregard life as a given treasure, and think they may take it away whenever they wish if they believe something to be lesser than them. Don’t get me wrong, I do not think your brothers cruel.” He sighed, a wistful sound. “They are merely what the winters they’ve lived has made them. They are younger than you, no?”

“They are,” Cody agreed, nodding – “Only by a couple years, though. They’re twins.”

Obi-Wan made a small sound of surprise – Cody understood the sentiment, feeling the spark of it himself when he looked at them, sometimes. Fox did seem a little smaller than Wolffe, not to mention the few hairs Wolffe was trying to grow on his chin. “That is a wonder.”

“My mother was full of wonders, it seems,” Cody laughed, taking a moment to allow her into his thoughts with all that she had been – kind and firm and always full of stories to tell. Lessons to teach. Knowledge to share. “I’ve got two more sets of twin brothers that are younger than me. Not to mention the rest – and,” he added softly, “and Meg.”

“Your parents are lucky,” Obi-Wan said, warmly and without a trace of exaggeration. “It is a joy to have so many children.”

“Perhaps my father,” Cody chuckled, shrugging as he finally looked down again at the grasses he was supposed to be weaving and tying together for the better part of the morning already. The sun was climbing slowly into its zenith, which meant simply that Cody had spent too much time here already – and none of his work was even done yet. “I can’t say it’s the largest of life’s pleasures to have that many brothers.”

Obi-Wan laughed again – now Cody could listen to it without worry, a tingling, echoing sound as he curled closer, coming to his side, seemingly to watch him work as Cody picked up the first of the bunch.

“I can’t disagree,” Obi-Wan told him as Cody tied the bit of string around the grasses. “Two siblings are already enough for me. I can barely keep track of them as they are.” Cody nodded, smiling absentmindedly, and perhaps that was what prompted Obi-Wan to ask – “How many have you got, exactly?”

“Twelve,” Cody answered, and there was an odd sort of whistling noise – he raised his head to look for it before realizing, amused, that it had come from Obi-Wan. “Eleven brothers and Meg.”

“Meg – that’s the little one I startled so?” Obi-Wan asked, and Cody couldn’t find any sort of malice in his tone.

“That’s the one,” Cody confirmed, letting his eyes trail down to Obi-Wan again, pressing his lips together as the grass snake watched his fingers move closely. “Don’t think lowly of her, please – she’s not so easily scared, she only got frightened because we usually try to keep her from snakes. We don’t want her to go and accidentally pick up a viper.”

Obi-Wan hummed, thoughtfully, and didn’t add much more to it, though he lifted his head a little to watch further as Cody fitted the flowercrown around his own head – he reckoned it would be just the size for Alpha as well.

“I tried to teach her, of course,” Cody added, feeling a little uncomfortable in the silence as he brought the string of flowers back down. “About why it’s important to not hurt innocent creatures and such.”

“Yes, that much I heard,” Obi-Wan said again, and though his voice wasn’t quite so warm, anymore, Cody couldn’t find any chill there either. “Another kindness on your part.”

“It was what our mother taught us – the older of us, anyway,” Cody admitted, letting himself look over Obi-Wan’s scales again – glittering even more, if it was possible, in the shining sun as it climbed higher and higher into the sky. The day was clear – he could only hope the night would be so, as well. “She taught us about the woods and all its creatures. Which snakes were venomous and which weren’t, she told us how to follow the right paths and not get caught in mushroom circles, and how to not be lured away by kites or swampside laundresses, how to treat a homeling, if we should find one nearby…” He smiled to himself, recounting it – recounting her splayed fingers and wide eyes as she told them the stories, gathered around her in a small circle, all fascinated, all frightened into the quiet. Her voice, rising and falling appropriately, quiet and then piercing, and always, always convincing. Cody still remembered her lessons – most if not all, of that he was certain.

And, looking at Obi-Wan now, he supposed the knowledge had paid off.

“Your mother sounds like a clever woman,” Obi-Wan praised, Cody’s smile never shrinking as he bowed his head a little.

“She was one,” he agreed, letting a little bit of the melancholy seep into his voice. He missed her, would never deny it to himself – though he saw her, he supposed, each day, in Alpha’s near-black eyes; in Rex’s bright curls; in the paler patches of skin that marked Omega’s body.

Obi-Wan seemed to understand without needing to be told, holding off on speaking for a moment before offering, quietly, “I’m very sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Cody shook his head mildly. Time dulled the stab of it a little now, though he could recall it as vividly as day – being fourteen and lost in it all, an armful of younger brothers and a squealing sister that he’d always wanted weeping in his arms. “It’s been a few years since then.”

“I understand,” Obi-Wan said, and if his voice was anything to go by, then he must have understood indeed. Squeezing his body around itself a little further, he shared, just as quiet, “I used to have two older brothers, see.”

Cody nodded, though the thought squeezed at his heart, even as the reason was difficult to pinpoint. Simple sympathy, perhaps. “What happened to them?”

Obi-Wan was silent for a long time – so much so that Cody wondered if he’d gone too far by asking. But once he opened his mouth to apologize for prying, suddenly, Obi-Wan spoke up – “I’m not certain.”

Cody kept the silence, then, waiting to see if Obi-Wan might want to share anything else, or if that was all he would let Cody know. Indeed, though, after giving himself a few moments to think, he sighed, “It’s hard to say, but… I have my assumptions. It’s very easy, as a grass snake, to leave home and simply… Not come back, you see.” When he laughed now, there was no easy warmth in it – only some bitterness that bled through. “Hells, if it hadn’t been for you, that was what would’ve happened to me, too.”

It was now that Cody tried to consider what he was truly saying – imagining, even, something of the sort happening to Alpha, or to their father, or to Wolffe and Fox… He shook his head to get rid of the horrid image, of the possibility that any one of his siblings might one day simply – not return. The door closing behind them, the wind carrying a goodbye with a promise of a quick return, and then… nothing. Nothing, ever again.

With another chill, he considered the same fate for himself. And found a tightness in his chest at the notion – the simple image of his siblings and his father waiting for him. Boba and Omega asking incessantly, unable to understand, Tup and Boil and Waxer, who perhaps considered themselves too old to cry now, Alpha and Rex whose eyes would get similarly clouded whenever they thought of their mother as it was…

It was a terrible thought to even entertain, certainly. A reality he did not want to consider.

“Then I’m very glad it didn’t,” Cody said, surprising even himself by how quiet his own voice sounded. Quiet, but not uncertain.

When Obi-Wan spoke, some semblance of a smile had returned to his voice. “Yes. Me as well.”

And, just like that, it seemed to have been put behind them. Cody picked up the bundles of grasses again, considering his work – he’d brought more than enough string to tie the flowercrowns, having learned from only a few mistakes that it was always better to have more than needed rather than not enough. The flowers, though… He’d been picking them as he went along, even wandering off the path a few times to pick out some he saw from a distance, clearing away entire patches that would be struck down underneath the blades of scythes in the coming day anyway. And still, he could tell he’d need to get up and gather more. A thought that suddenly seemed tiring – the sun was quite some way up, now,  the warm sunlight reflecting brightly in the dark water of the lake.

His face must’ve shown his frustration, because Obi-Wan’s voice came to him again – he twitched a little once he heard it. It was still strange to hear something so clearly from a creature so small.

“Is something the matter?”

“Oh, no,” Cody said, quickly, shaking his head as he turned to look at him. Obi-Wan had stretched out his body while he’d not been looking, basking in the sunlight where it was passing through the thick leaves hanging above them. “Simply… Ah, I think you might’ve been right at the start. My brothers really did pile all the work on me.”

Obi-Wan’s laughter was a nice sound, he thought. A pleasant one, for certain. “Why do it, then? Why not just refuse?”

Cody sighed, shaking his head as he tied the second flowercrown together, scratching the nail of his thumb against the knots to ensure he’d tied them tightly enough. “I don’t want to risk them not having the time,” he explained, putting it by the side of the first one and picking up the third bunch of grass, spreading it out into a line. “It’s important to have a flowercrown when you go to the dances.”

“Is it?” Obi-Wan asked, and now he seemed curious – Cody supposed it was only natural. Grass snakes likely didn’t exactly have midsummer dances, after all.

“Definitely.” Cody nodded, picking out the biggest of the cornflowers – this one would be for Boba, he decided, smiling as he brushed away some grass to make sure it’d not be too big for him. “During Midsummer night, you’re supposed to wear your flowercrown on your arm, not on your head – until you find someone you liked dancing with, or talking with, or something of the sort. Then you put your flowercrown on their head – they might put theirs on yours, or they might have already given it away, or they may choose to keep theirs on their arm… It’s something of a game, mostly. It doesn’t even have to be someone you don’t know – it can be your lover, your friend, someone from your family… Things like that.”

“And what’s the point of it?” Obi-Wan asked, no trace of disdain in his voice – still only curiosity. “Just to have fun?”

“That’s certainly a big part of it,” Cody agreed, “but it’s also something of a luck charm. They say you’ll have excellent luck if you give away your flowercrown, and even more so if you return with one on your own head. So it’s sort of important to bring one to give away, and that’s why I’m doing it for my brothers.” He smiled, recalling the grins of Fives and Echo once they figured out a way around it a few years ago, spinning together with a few other children, flowercrowns resting proudly atop their mussed-up curls. “Two of my little brothers have been cheating by simply exchanging theirs in the beginning of the evening and not having to worry about it for the rest of the night.”

That startled a laugh out of Obi-Wan. “And that’s still good luck?”

“They certainly seem like they’re enjoying their days to me,” Cody chuckled. At ten, they brought Tup and Boba out into the fields early to teach them how to herd their animals, and it definitely looked to be more fun from afar than it had been when Alpha was teaching Cody the same thing when they’d been younger.

“Then that is all that matters,” Obi-Wan supposed, twisting his body a little so he could crawl a little further into the sunlight. And Cody couldn’t help but agree – the exasperation he felt himself that day had been more than mitigated by his brothers’ constant snickering as they reminded each other of the trick they’d come up with.

Shaking his head, he reached for the forth bundle of grass – and noticed, suddenly, that he had no more clover left, the remains of the small purple flower in his palm for the next crown. Sighing, he began to get up, wondering if he could ask Obi-Wan to watch over his work as he went to collect flowers – stopped again by his voice.

“What do you need?”

“Flowers,” Cody said with a sigh, relaxing again against the tree he was under, tilting his head up as he let his eyes slip closed for a moment. “I don’t have enough to complete everything, and I promised my father I’d be back home for lunch. At this pace, though, I’m afraid I’ll be late…”

“Tell you what,” Obi-Wan said, suddenly, and Cody looked down at him with an eyebrow raised. “If you’ve no time, I will go and gather you some flowers.”

Cody chuckled, shaking his head – “How will you gather me flowers? You’re a grass snake, Obi-Wan.”

“Just because I don’t have fingers doesn’t mean I don’t have ways,” Obi-Wan answered with his own laughter, strangely convinced, and repeated, “What do you need?”

Cody blinked, tilting his head – well, he supposed if Obi-Wan was offering… “Ah… Well, these days dandelions are aplenty, but if you could find me some chamomiles and clover – oh, and, well, if you see a cornflower here or there…”

“Naturally,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Those are lovely colors. How much do you need?”

“Enough for a couple flowercrowns, perhaps,” Cody guessed. “I need to make seven, and I think with adjustments I can manage around five… and then I can always get myself more grass, if need be.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Obi-Wan seemed to stay completely still for a moment – stretching perhaps, though Cody wasn’t certain if snakes needed to stretch – before he curled up and crawled over his own tail, slithering hurriedly over the thick roots of the oak Cody was sitting under before disappearing into the forest – towards the fields.

“Good luck!” Cody called after him earnestly, though he wondered if that was something he’d have benefitted from – he was a grass snake, so he likely knew the woods better than Cody knew his own five fingers. Still, he thought, a good wish had never led a man – or a snake, in this case – astray.

He was free now to get back to his work, and that was just what he did – it was quicker this way, without the conversation with Obi-Wan that inevitably slowed things down, but as he finished the fourth flowercrown and halved the fifth in the silence, listening only to the birds above, he realized it had been a nice pastime. Even if Cody worked slower that way, the grass snake had been a good listener – and a good fellow by all means, Cody supposed. It was natural, perhaps, since Cody had saved his life, apparently; but still, he asked interesting questions, allowed Cody to talk about interesting things. A skill he’d almost forgotten how to hone, so much time spent around his brothers – his own friends in the village were as busy as him, these days, so even if they met as often as time and duty allowed, it wasn’t very common for them to all gather together anymore.

Talking to Obi-Wan felt, in some way, similar to how it had felt years ago, when he had hours to waste simply sitting atop a fence with his friends, talking about anything and everything as the thoughts came to him. Something a little more delicate, perhaps, even when the conversation came easily – and more often than not, Cody thought, it did. Obi-Wan was simply polite; simply nice. Quiet, but not terribly so; he seemed easily excitable, but not obnoxious. He seemed, in some way, like someone who simply didn’t know how people like Cody worked; how their world functioned. And that, Cody thought, was also a reasonable assumption to make. He, too, wasn’t exactly certain how the world of grass snakes functioned, either.

Nevertheless, he worked, wondering if Obi-Wan would return. He could have just made sure he left peacefully without Cody trying to harm him – not that Cody would have, but it was best to be safe in the woods. Still, Cody hoped he hadn’t – it had been a pleasant enough conversation.

His voice came, again, along with the shuffling of grass and leaves, just as Cody put down the fifth flowercrown.

“I’m here,” Obi-Wan called, and Cody turned to look at him – surprised, acutely, by the pile of flowers he had brought Cody, collected carefully in his mouth. He laid them down by Cody’s thigh, making his way over to curl up peacefully somewhere by his knees.

“Oh…” Cody breathed. The flowers were many – plucked with ease, it seemed, as though they’d been pulled out of the earth by a wholly human hand. Cornflowers and dandelions and clover and others alike; he spread them across the grasses he had and found, miraculously, that it was just enough. “Oh, Obi-Wan, thank you very much.”

“I promised,” Obi-Wan reminded him pleasantly, head placed comfortably again atop his curled tail. It appeared a position he preferred for rest.

“I suppose you did,” Cody laughed. “Either way, thank you. These are just what I needed.”

Obi-Wan hummed, and didn’t speak further – Cody found that just his presence there, watching the dance of Cody’s fingers, was more than enough to entertain, and the work went by quickly. He had only needed two more, after all, and after his long days making such for himself and his brothers, as a child and now as a man, he was used to the routine. Twist and turn, tie and tuck, bite the string so it would come off at the right spot.

Before he knew it, the two remaining flowercrowns were complete as well, and as he laid them down next to the rest, he took a moment to admire his work – blue and purple and green and yellow and white and all sorts of other wildflowers, and Cody couldn’t have been happier with them. Looking up, he saw the sun up directly above him – it was just about time.

Still, he glanced at Obi-Wan. The grass snake was staring back at him lazily, basking in the noon sun, and Cody swallowed, wracking his head about how to say goodbye now.

A thought came to him then, more ridiculous than anything else, but he figured that was the least he could do – and it felt just about amusing enough that Obi-Wan might also find it so.

Carefully, he took a single remaining chamomile and twisted into a gentle circle, tying it with a small piece of string.

“Obi-Wan,” he called, then, looking up at the grass snake, who was now watching him with near-suspicion. “Could you come closer for a moment?”

Obi-Wan remained in place for a little – though, slowly, hesitantly, eyeing the flower, he allowed himself to crawl closer. Cody leaned forward then, just one hand out so that he wouldn’t startle him, and, very carefully, laid the flower atop his head, just over the golden collar around it.

“There,” he breathed, smiling when Obi-Wan remained still, perhaps out of sheer surprise or confusion, and the flower didn’t fall off. “Now you’ve got one, too.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, the forked tongue dragging against his snout before it returned to his mouth. “Does this mean I’ll be lucky for a year?”

“That’s the idea,” Cody said, and couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face. “And hopefully you won’t get stuck in anyone else’s sleeves.”

Obi-Wan laughed at that, gentle and open. “Thank you for that, Cody. You must be going now, then?”

As he turned to pick up his seven completed flowercrowns, Cody nodded. “I must, I’m afraid. Elsewise my father will have my hide once I’m back.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want that. I’d ask to tell your siblings hello from me, but…” Obi-Wan sighed, and Cody got the notion from somewhere that it was as close to a verbal gesture toward oneself as a grass snake could muster up.

“I’ll say it’s from a friend,” Cody offered, standing up at last – feeling the way his legs had gone a little stiff from all the sitting.

Obi-Wan sounded genuinely pleased by it – “That works, too. Goodbye, Cody.”

“Goodbye, Obi-Wan,” he bid him, turning to walk – seeing Obi-Wan curl up in the tall grass, watching him leave.

He made it only a few steps before he thought – as though he’d forgotten – that perhaps he wouldn’t see Obi-Wan again. He’d only appeared to thank Cody for saving his life, that was all.

And, in that case…

“Happy Midsummer,” he called, unable to stop himself. But when he glanced over his shoulder, turning, Obi-Wan was no longer there – not even a trail remaining in the tall grasses for the lightness of him.

Nevertheless, the voice still came, as steady and smiling as it had been throughout their conversation – “Happy Midsummer, Cody.”

The rains had been heavy the past few days – so much so that there wasn’t much to see outside other than the constant curtain of water beating down on the grass, the fields, the crops. The rivers and lakes flooded – the plants that were supposed to remain in the fields until late in the autumn were struggling to make it through each rise of the water. And the mornings, when it was the most likely that the sun might peak through the heavy cover of clouds, were growing more and more chilly. The winds were sharper with each day that passed, mussing up their hair and clothes whenever any one of them so much as stuck their nose outside.

Once Tup, Boba and Echo all fell ill in the same week, their father decided he’d not let a single one of his children out of the house without some sort of shawl or scarf wrapped around their head. Rex and Bly complained; Fives and Omega would pout and cross their arms but obeyed in the end, though they sat in Echo and Boba’s beds for most of the day as it was; and while Cody thought their father was somewhat overreacting – and knew Wolffe and Fox shared the sentiment – he knew better than to argue. Their father was stubborn – even more so with Alpha stalwart on his side of the argument, though it was likely because it was him who now had the duty to take care of his sick siblings.

To his credit, though, while Cody, Fox, Wolffe, Rex and Bly – wrapped up in cloth just as they’d promised – did their best to save what was remaining of their flooding crops and feed their livestock plants and grain about as wet as the grumpy animals were themselves, Alpha watched diligently over the three bedridden, coughing children, making sure they ate and drank enough to get better. Echo whined to Cody sometimes, quietly and never with Alpha around, that he was being too stern – they’d be just fine, they just needed time, he said. And Alpha, whenever he wasn’t around the three, complained in his own right that Echo was being too stubborn and not letting his body heal properly. The two found each other frustrating as usual – and Cody, for a lack of any other entertainment these days, found it a hilarious disagreement.

Nevertheless, the relentless coughing kept some of them up at night. Cody would lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, knowing Alpha was still sitting by their beds, mumbling about chamomile teas and honey and whatever else he might’ve gotten them. He’d stay, picking at his blanket, listening to Fives toss and turn before he’d finally fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion; listening to Rex, who wouldn’t be able to help a sigh every once in a while before the early morning would quiet him at last as well. Every other night, he’d hear Omega slipping out of her bed, her small feet tapping across the floor as she left her blanket and clambered over him to get to his side, pressing herself to it, seeking warmth and, in some way, comfort. He’d let her sneak in under his blanket and warm herself there, a small ball of trembling uncertainty that seemed only to settle a little once he’d pulled her gently close with one tug of his arm.

He slept unsteadily with her there, her kicking sharply in her sleep occasionally, ramming her heels into his legs. But he wouldn’t refuse her, he knew. It was one of his faults, perhaps, and his father had always said he was a little too up in the clouds, too soft to the rest of them, but it was simply how it was; he could scarcely change his own nature; fighting it less, while leading to a few more restless nights, was certainly easier than insisting a quiet, worried five-year-old return to her bed and listen to Boba as he coughed tiredly throughout the night. Alpha had gathered enough exhaustion, it seemed, to make up for all of them.

One night, listening still to her shuffle around as she seemed to make up her mind to get up again, he waited for the quiet tapping of her socked feet against the cold floor again; for her small, trembling hands to brace her on Cody’s side as she’d carefully swing her legs over him to get to the side of the bed nearer the wall,  to press insistently to his side.

None of it came, now. She did get up, Cody could hear it – but her footsteps, quiet and slower, somehow, more cautious, led away from his bed instead of toward it. He blinked, but allowed himself to settle back into his blankets – perhaps she was simply going to sleep next to someone else tonight; who knew, he thought with a small smile. Maybe Wolffe or Fox or even Alpha was warmer than him.

But then there was something strange disturbing the quiet of the night, a puzzling noise – the creaking of the door to the outside.

The last traces of his already disturbed sleep dissipated as he lifted himself quickly to his elbows – and, surely enough, Omega was standing at the door, one hand reaching up to press down on the handle, her small frame illuminated by the faint light coming from outside. Faint – it was not raining, but only just. Omega had her head wrapped in a scarf, a short coat hanging off of her – going somewhere, then… Alone? In the middle of the night?

“Meg,” Cody whispered, sharp while trying to keep his quiet, and she stilled in the doorway – and then, without turning to look back, slipped out in a hurry, only just managing to close the door behind her so whatever faint traces of heat they had conserved inside the house would stay there. “Omega!”

Cody swept his blanket off himself in one wide motion, rising to his feet and making his way – as quietly as he was able to in his rush – across the room and to the door, pulling on whichever shoes he could reach first. They were Alpha’s, he gathered as much when he stood up and found them too big for himself, but he no longer had the time to change them as he pushed the door open just enough to slip through, just like his sister had done.

He’d been wrong, it turned out – while it was not exactly raining outside, he could still feel a light drizzle dripping down on him, coating the woods and fields in thick fogs. In front of him, though, he could see Omega scurrying away towards the entrance to the woods clearly enough to follow immediately.

“Omega!” he called, no longer keeping his voice low as his feet struggled to stay steady in the thick mud that the water had turned all the paths to. “Meg, come back here!”

He could hear her squeak – but saw no signs of stopping, still sliding around the same as he was as she made her way closer and closer to the wet, mossy stone that marked the beginning of their path into the woods.

“Meg!” he tried, again, but, without turning around, she only sped up, to the best of her ability, and –

– Slipped horridly in the mud just by the stone, her body twisting as she fell, hard, onto the grass.

Cody more so felt his own voice screaming out for her rather than heard it as he lunged for her, her small hands lifting her up again mere moments before he got to her. Hurriedly, he turned her onto her back, helping her sit up, checking all over her face, her wide eyes, the entirety of his chest gripped tightly by a terrible chill. She’d been so close to the stone – so close to falling right onto it, onto its hard, jagged surface…

“Meg, Meg, does anything hurt?” he asked, carefully, tilting her head up and down as she blinked at him, eyes full of shining tears as she tried to bat his hands away. “Meg, come on, now, shh. Shh, shh, I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“My – My leg, Cody,” she sniffed, offering him her knee – gently pulling up the leg of her short sleep pants, he saw the small scrape just below her thigh, red-rimmed and torn, but not bleeding. It would bruise, certainly, but… “My leg hurts…”

“Oh, no, that’ll be okay. That’s just a little scratch, see?” He showed it to her, careful not to lower her back down into the mud. She sniffled again, shaking her head insistently, and Cody sighed softly before leaning down to press his lips to her knee, leaving a loud, feather-light kiss there before he leaned back up. “See? All better now, right?”

She stayed quiet, pouting, but didn’t shake her head again, wrapping her arms around herself again as Cody moved on to re-check her head. Thankfully, she seemed not to have hurt herself anywhere else – that left him only the reason, now, why she was out here in the first place.

Cody scooped her up easily into his arms, ignoring the slight dampness that sank into his own sleepshirt from her fall, and let her settle on his upper arm, slinging her arms around his neck tightly and pressing her wet cheek to his jaw.

“Meg,” he started again, feeling her grip tighten the slightest bit more, “Why were you going out in the middle of the night? Where were you going?”

“I can’t tell,” she grumbled, holding onto him insistently.

“Come on,” Cody scolded, raising the hand that wasn’t bearing her weight to tap gently at the scarf around her head. “You know you can’t go out alone yet, Meg, especially into the woods and during the night while it’s raining. What would Dad say if he knew you were out there alone? Without any of us?”

“He wouldn’t have known!” she insisted, kicking her foot lightly into Cody’s stomach. He held her patiently, waiting until she reluctantly leaned back to look at him too, eyebrows furrowed almost comically on her brow.

“He would’ve found out,” Cody said, “once it was morning and you’d gotten lost and not come back. Then we’d all have to spend the whole day looking for you. Don’t you think that’s more trouble than Dad needs right now? Do you want to worry Alpha about us even further? Gods forbid you’d have caught a cold out there, too. The coat is good, but you’ve barely got a shirt under it, Meg.”

She looked away from him in defiance, raising one hand to her mouth. Again, he wrapped three fingers around her wrist and angled it down to keep her from biting her nails.

“We need to take care of each other now,” he explained, letting his voice soften into something soothing. “Especially while so many of us are sick. The rest of us now have a duty to keep everything going smoothly while Echo, Tup and Boba recover, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, muted, and then glanced back to him with a kindled fire in her eyes again. “But it was really important!”

“What was it, then?” he asked her, turning to bring her back to the house again. Gods willing, they’d not woken anyone else inside, or they’d both – Cody mostly, naturally – would have quite a bit of explaining to do. “You could’ve told me, you know. I would’ve walked you wherever you need to go during the day whenever I wasn’t so busy.”

“I won’t tell you,” she said, near-fierce in the way she turned from him again, resting her chin on his shoulder as she watched the forest behind them. “I’ll… But you’ll walk me, still?”

“If you promise to never leave like this again,” he reasoned, letting himself imagine, just for one terrifying second, what might’ve happened if he’d not been awake; if he’d not anticipated her coming to his bed. “Then I’ll gladly help. Tomorrow, even, if I have the free minute.”

“Okay,” she murmured again, tilting her head. “I guess.”

“You guess, or you promise?” Cody asked, and she gave a little chuckle, pushing away from his shoulder to look at him directly.

“I promise,” she vowed, and Cody shook her, just a little, to make her laugh.

“There we go,” he said, allowing himself a small smile. “Now we can go back, and – “

“Are you two – Has something happened?” Cody snapped his head to the side, realizing he’d missed the creaking of the door being opened again. Fox stood in the doorway, blinking sleepily, though it didn’t exactly do much to detract from the dryness of his stare. Somewhere behind him, Cody could see another figure sitting up in bed – Wolffe, most likely, never asleep for long once Fox had woken. “Have you gone mad? Father will kill you if he sees you out with Meg in this chill, Cody, get back inside. Not even a scarf…”

“I have a scarf,” Omega objected insistently, leaning forward in Cody’s hold. “Cody was just – “

She quieted down at Cody’s squeeze of his arms around her waist, knocking some breath out of her. “We were just getting some air,” he murmured, adjusting her a little so she could rest against him again and not hit her head on the way in. “It’s been a while since we’ve done much outside other than work, and, you know, Meg’s not seen much of the stars these days in general.”

Fox’s gaze slipped past them and up into the sky – on his face, Cody could see reluctant agreement, confirmed by the hesitance in his voice. “I suppose it is a clear night. Maybe it’ll finally stop pouring so much in the morning, eh?”

“Gods preserve,” Cody grumbled, twisting as he stepped over the doorstep, ducking a little bit and bringing Omega down with him. “Think Alpha will thaw a bit?”

“Not if he knows you’d been outside at this hour,” Wolffe whispered – it had been him, after all, awake and with the blanket pulled near-defensively up to his chest. “To bed, both of you.”

Cody would’ve asked when and who had decided his younger brother could order him around, but neither Wolffe nor Fox was wrong, he supposed. And when he saw Alpha, head resting on the edge of Tup’s bed, twitch in his sleep, he decided against saying anything and elected to simply carry Omega back to her bed before returning to his own, happy to at last be able to put his head down.

It seemed that perhaps the fresh air had indeed helped him somewhat, because the rest of the night passed surprisingly quickly – or perhaps it was because of the gentle quiet, most of his brothers out like rocks, and with the cough not plaguing the three sick ones so much.

Either way, rest came fast – and the morning, full of work as always, even faster.

“Rex! Help!” Omega called, grabbing him by the arm to shove herself behind him as Alpha closed in on her. “Help, help, help, hide me!”

Rex tried his best to turn, but she’d grabbed onto the sash around his waist, her small hands holding on tightly. “Get off of me!”

“Come back here!” Alpha called, finally, rounding the bed to reach for her – reaching for Rex first, who dove sharply to the side, leaving Omega to scramble over Bly’s bed – and grumbling body – as she tried desperately to escape her brother. “Omega! Omega, I said in the bed, and so you’re going to – get – into – the damned – damn you, come back here!”

“I’m not sick! Leave me alone!” she yelled, dropping down to try and crawl underneath the bed when Alpha finally caught up to her with a huff, pulling her, now screaming with all that she had, by the legs before he could scoop her up. She kicked and punched and, if Cody was not mistaken, tried to bite him, but Alpha had wrangled Cody who was feeling just as unruly when Cody was twice her size, and so it was be fruitless to expect a different outcome now. “I’m not sick!”

“I’m saying you are sick, and you are going to bed,” Alpha repeated, his sharp voice still audible over her screaming. “I’m not asking! I’m telling you –”

“Can you both go to bed? Shut your maws while you’re at it too, perhaps,” Bly requested gruffly, pressing his blanket against his ears as he squinted at them, Cody only hearing his voice because of the close proximity he was in. Not graced with an answer, Bly only groaned and dropped back onto the pillow face-down, leaving Cody trying to control his laughter alone.

Not entirely, perhaps – Wolffe and Fox were having a hard time keeping their faces straight as well, which comforted Cody a bit as they were certainly better than him at it. Still, somewhere, his worry for Omega was pricking at his chest – Alpha was right, he knew, and Omega was only being stubborn. Which, at her age, was perhaps to be expected, but…

She’d woken with a sore throat – that would certainly be made worse by how she yelled now – and a bit of a runny nose, but that had soon turned into chills, and, finally, a fever. Cody had been the one to check her forehead – seeing the clear betrayal in her dark eyes as he’d announced that she was, indeed, sick, and would have to stay inside for now.

Standing there and watching Alpha dump her onto her own bed and just about swaddle her in her blanket with expert speed, Cody felt a sting of guilt for her kicking in – for her sickness, naturally, where he could’ve been faster and caught her before she’d gone out two nights ago, but also for the fact that he’d never walked her where she’d needed to go. Granted, he was honest in that he had no time to do so – still, it didn’t feel any better just because of that.

“I hate you!” Omega yelled, still trying to wriggle out of the blanket while Alpha held her down, shushing her with firm insistence. “You’re the worst! I – I love you the least out of all my brothers!”

“That’s a right shame, as I’m the only one of them that decides when you get to leave this bed again,” Alpha managed, shoving her back down when she sat up. And again. And again. When she finally collapsed back down and stayed, only glaring at him over the edge of the blanket, Alpha leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “That’s better. But, as the worst brother, I’ve decided that you’re still staying here a long while.”

“Alpha-a!” she whined, half-angry, half-pleading, blinking quickly. “I have things to do-o!”

“Don’t we all,” Alpha sighed, and Cody could see the way he relished even the few moments of closing his eyes. “But unless your things are at the risk of drowning, trust me, Meg, you’ll be fine.”

Unwilling to let her argue any longer, he brushed his fingers through her sweat-damp curls and stood up, stumbling a little out of sheer inertia as he rose to his feet. Cody wasted no time in grabbing him by the elbow and slinging a quick arm around his shoulders, pulling him a little to the side to talk. Alpha seemed strangely grateful for his distraction, only pulling back at him for show.

“You look half-dead,” Cody said, genuinely pitying. Alpha snorted, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you’d say that. Some of us can’t sleep through the coughing.”

“At this point, just move into their bed.” Cody shrugged, glancing at the wide bed Boba and Tup now shared – Echo had gotten up yesterday, sitting quietly by Fives and hoping Alpha would overlook him. With all that had happened since, Cody wasn’t surprised he would. “Watching you half-collapsed on the floor with your back bent in three angles by it is honestly getting sad.”

“You be quiet, Cody, or I’ll take yours instead. It’s closer.”

“You don’t even sound threatening anymore. I’m worried about you,” Cody told him, trying to keep a straight face – failing and letting a smile split his lips at Alpha’s glare.

“I live with a bunch of idiots,” he murmured, shaking Cody’s arm off himself. “Honestly, be glad Mom’s not here to see it.”

“Father is, though,” Cody reminded him, leaning into his grin as Alpha stared blankly at the door. “Maybe he should hop around the three instead of you sometime.”

“Father can’t see three feet ahead of himself when he comes back home,” Alpha chuckled too, finally. “You know how hectic it is out there. All the people, all the shouting, the rain now, too. If I was him, I’d fall straight to bed after getting back just as well.”

“Maybe he should take Waxer and Boil with him sometime,” Cody thought out loud, Alpha humming his response as he crashed down on the bench by the door, reaching for his shoes to pull them on. “Or Fives and Echo, even, once Echo gets better. Like he did with us when we were little.”

“It was nice,” Alpha agreed, closing his eyes again for a moment, boots pulled up as he gave himself one more moment to rest.

And Cody couldn’t help but agree with him – it had been nice, just Father and Alpha and him, when Wolffe and Fox had been too small to come along and Bly was a babe altogether. Father would take them out to the markets, out into the very center of the village – Cody didn’t remember much from it anymore, Alpha more, perhaps, but he could still recall sitting on Father’s leg, listening as he spoke to the other people, as he leaned over the tables to say hello to the other children.

It had been nice indeed, he thought with a small smile, to be a child.

“Well,” Alpha grumbled, standing up. “Can I trust you to keep the house unburnt and standing?”

“You have the solemn promise of my best attempt,” Cody told him, sharing one last chuckle with him before Alpha was out the door, finally there to join his younger brothers in working outside. Cody, meanwhile, had negotiated a freer morning and now turned around, looking for Omega – she had stayed where she was, thankfully, in her little cocoon of rage atop her bed. Cody walked to her now, taking slow steps until he was standing right by her side.

“Hi, Meg,” Cody said, softly, sitting down on the side of her bed. “How do you feel?”

He was greeted with a sharp glare just from over the edge of the blanket, the same she’d graced Alpha with. “Leave me alone.”

“Oh, come, now,” Cody chuckled, gently brushing his hand down the blanket she was under. “You can’t be angry at everyone forever for wanting you to get better, Meg.”

“Yes, I can,” she replied, stubborn and clearly still upset, and Cody sighed.

“Can I lie down next to you?”

“No.”

“Please, Meg?” he asked, tilting his head to catch her gaze. She ducked her head down into the blanket, shaking her head. He didn’t try to stop himself from smiling, just repeating, “Please?”

“Ugh,” she grumbled, shoving at the blanket. “Fine.”

Gladly, Cody lay on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow so he could talk quietly with her.

“It’s just a small cold, you know. You’ll get better very quickly.”

“I’m not sick,” she insisted, shuffling underneath the blanket just so it was clear she had crossed her arms. “I’m not.”

“You had a sore throat and now a fever,” Cody reminded her. “You are sick. It’s okay, you know – everyone gets sick.”

“You don’t get sick,” she pointed out. “Alpha doesn’t get sick.”

“Where’d you get that from?” Cody raised his head, catching her now mildly curious glance. “Of course Alpha and I get sick – just not as often as we did when we were children.” He leaned closer to her, letting his smile turn wry. “If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll tell you a secret.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, nodding slightly. Unwilling to let go so fast, but struggling to keep a steady grip on her own anger quickly.

Cody leaned down to her ear, and, quietly, murmured – “When he was your age, Alpha was very sick, all the time. So now whenever you younger ones are sick too, he’s very worried. He doesn’t want you to get as sick as he was, so he looks after you like this. Don’t be angry at him for that – he’s just doing what he knows is best.”

“Hmph.” She turned her nose away, looking to the side as she did. Cody chuckled, shaking his head – she’d always been a little stubborn, although never ill-intentioned.

“Meg,” he called her again, quietly, after a moment of pause. Slowly, she graced him with a glance again. “Remember when you snuck out two nights ago? And I promised that I’d walk you wherever you needed to go if you never did that again?”

Her eyes glimmered at the reminder – though the light dimmed quickly as she realized the situation she was in. “Yes,” she whined, “and now I can’t even do that anymore because of Alpha…”

Cody bit his tongue before he could remind her that her being sick was in no way Alpha’s fault and continued, simply, “I can still go. Today, if you like. You just need to tell me what you need.”

He was almost surprised at how reluctant the shake of her head was. “I can’t tell you,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s a secret.”

“Oh, Meg,” he sighed, trying to sound as hurt as he in no way felt. “Have I ever failed to keep a single secret of yours?”

Squirming in place, she muttered, “I – I guess not.”

“Then it’s safe to tell me, isn’t it?” Cody pressed, leaning a little closer. “Hey, look on the bright side – you won’t even need to go anywhere. No use in getting wet, right? You can just sit inside and talk to Boba all day.”

That seemed to snap something in her – carefully, she glanced at Boba, sleeping soundly with his head on Tup’s shoulder, and bared her teeth for a moment, grimacing.

“Okay,” she whispered, and motioned for Cody to turn his head, which he did, only a moment later feeling her cup her hands by his ear and tell him, just as quietly, “It’s what Boba asked me to do when he got sick. So you know how there are ducks in the lake?” Cody nodded. “Boba knows – he saw, you know – he knows that they’re teaching their babies to fly. And he needed me to go and see if they’ve all flied out now. To where it’s warmer.”

Cody blinked, turning to look at her, just to check if she was serious. Had she been planning to go all the way to the lake in the middle of the night, only to see whether some birds she may or may not see were still there? And Boba had sent her, of all people?

He supposed he couldn’t put it past him, when Boba had always been fond of all small creatures and shamelessly dragged Omega into his fascination whenever he was able, but it seemed a little over the top now.

“So,” he said, slowly, lowering his voice when she shushed him, waving her hand wildly, “You need me to go to the lake and see whether all the birds are still there?”

“We need you to go see if they’ve all flied out,” she corrected, nodding. “Yes. And then come back to me and tell me! And then I’ll tell Boba.”

Cody closed his eyes for a few seconds before pushing himself up onto his elbows. To hells with it, he thought – he’d promised her he’d walk her, and since he couldn’t, he supposed he could at least do this, no matter how ridiculous it seemed to him. Regardless of whether the birds were actually there, what would it have changed if he knew it or not? They wouldn’t do anything about it, anyway.

“Okay,” he heard himself say, accompanied immediately by a heavy sigh from some more reasonable part of his brain. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Omega repeated, and the bright smile that curved her lips, the first in a while, was almost enough to make him feel like it was perhaps somewhat worth it. “Go then! Go now!”

Cody nodded, supposing he was out of options now. Besides, it was early in the morning, and, at last, not raining so hard – he could spare the couple of hours, if only to hurry to the lake and back before anyone noticed he was gone in all the chaos. He could’ve simply gone back to his usual work and told Boba and Omega that he’d been, that the birds were safely gone, but – something within him sat uneasy with the lie.

He sighed, resigning himself to his fate – he’d been the one to promise, after all, and if it meant that Omega would control herself and not run out into the night to get sick on a whim, it might just be worth it.

He shuffled his feet into his own shoes, still feeling a mild sting of guilt for caking Alpha’s in mud the other day – his brother had not even noticed, which arguably made it feel worse, or, if he did, he didn’t mention it at all. Cody figured he might as well count himself lucky for not having to explain one more thing to him.

He shut the door carefully behind himself when he left, grateful at least for the decent weather after the last few days of rain, and set out. The paths were all more than well-known to him, at least, stomped out here by his feet since he’d been little more than a toddler tripping his own legs, holding onto the hand of Alpha who, although in reality had lived only three winters more than him, had always seemed staggeringly taller. His step, which then must’ve been the still-jumpy gait of a child, had always seemed steadier, his eyes watchful and his jaw always tightly set. Perhaps it was how it was, even back then – perhaps Alpha had been, even as a child, terribly serious about being trusted with Cody. The thought brought an easy smile to Cody’s face, still.

Deeper in the forest, although the paths were still familiar, it was darker – granted, the sun wasn’t quite peeking through the blanketing clouds as it was, but the cover of the leaves made it feel a little more cramped; enclosed, somehow, almost caging. Cody didn’t let his step falter, knowing well the importance of it – and if he ever were to doubt it, it wouldn’t take long at all for the voice of his mother in his head to remind him of it: to lose his way in the forest meant walking boldly into the embrace of one’s demise. Unthinkingly diving into the arms of a swamp-dweller if he were by the water, failing to see the border of a faery circle and wandering straight in if not. And from there it was a mystery – a mystery that Cody had never been too keen to solve.

And so, until he got to the more familiar trees, more familiar stones, he did not slow his step.

He was just by the lake, now, he knew – he could all but hear where the winds dancing through the leaves fell into the water, rolling into the small, lapping waves. And it was beautiful still when he finally came out into the clearing, onto the shore – in all its chill, in all its depth, it was beautiful now as it was in spring and summer, and as it would be in winter.

He settled down into the cooler sands, now, watching the surface carefully. No, there were no birds – it felt as though a weight slipped off his chest at the observation, at knowing that he could tell this to Omega safely now, knowing it was true. And the birds must’ve flied for warmer skies, only to return in spring – he was certain Boba would await them happily, would try to pick out which of the birds were the little ones he was so concerned about, sick in the chilly autumn nights.

From his side came the rustling of drying grass – he didn’t give it much thought, attributing it to the wind, until a familiar voice followed it; it took him a moment to remember where he’d heard it before, but…

“It’s a chilly morning to be bathing, Cody.”

Cody turned his head, knowing, now, where to look, meeting the glittering scales of a grass snake that stared at him, curious. Cody couldn’t help his smile – he’d seen him multiple times since their first conversation, always keeping a little further away from Cody if he was there with his brothers, slithering into the grass and disappearing if they ever got too close, but he’d not heard him speak since that first time he’d come out to thank him.

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” he said, and something in his heart warmed at the name. “It’s good to hear you again.”

“As it is you,” Obi-Wan agreed, keeping himself stretched out lazily in the grass. “I hope you can forgive my lack of manners the few times I’ve seen you after we spoke. I wasn’t too keen on getting any more rocks thrown at me.”

Cody felt another bout of guilt pricking at him at that – he still felt a little bad about it, too, remembering the pained hiss when his brother had thrown the stone, knowing Obi-Wan had felt it and remembered it well.

“I wouldn’t let them do that,” he promised Obi-Wan, crossing his legs comfortably where he was sitting. “They’ve been much better behaved since, too.”

“Perhaps around you,” Obi-Wan said, and there was that warm smile in his voice again – Cody wondered how it was that he was capable of it. Granted, he shouldn’t have been capable of human speech as it was, but…

“Perhaps,” Cody agreed, allowing himself a chuckle as he turned again to look at the lake. “Even so, with the way things are right now, none of us have the time to be going anywhere. I’m not here to bathe, just to… check on something, for my brother.”

“Mm,” Obi-Wan acknowledged, and Cody heard him ease himself forward, glancing at him – he crawled closer, curling on the stone by his side, looking up near-wistfully at the sky to see if he might catch even a sliver of sunlight. “I understand. Busy autumns…”

“Made worse by the fact that half my siblings are sick,” Cody grumbled, nodding. “Well – not half, perhaps, but four in total, now. Getting better, but…” He gestured widely, hoping Obi-Wan understood. They were indeed getting better, barring, of course, Omega, but while it was a relief, it wouldn’t be complete until they were all healthy and running around again.

Thankfully, Obi-Wan did seem to understand – even moving his head strangely, gracefully, in what Cody now understood was some facsimile of a human nod. “Of course. It’s similar with us, now, my younger sister has got… a nasty bite, and it’s been turning quite sour.” He sighed, his tail twitching slightly. “We’re all very worried about her. She’s still quite little, you see.”

Cody nodded, drawing his legs up a little bit to rest his chin over the knees as a colder gust of wind came to brush against him. “I know how it feels. My little sister is sick, too.”

“Meg, right?” Obi-Wan clarified, and Cody nodded.

“What’s your sister’s name? If I can ask that?” Flushing a little, he added, uncertain, “If… If she has one.”

A light laugh came from Obi-Wan as his body twitched lightly, the head turning so that Cody could meet his yellow eyes. “Of course she does. We all do.” Cody nodded, feeling a little embarrassed now, until Obi-Wan added, “Her name is Ahsoka.”

“Ahsoka,” Cody tried, and Obi-Wan made a pleased noise at that. “That’s a lovely name.”

 “She’s a lovely sister,” Obi-Wan said, softly.

Cody nodded, looking down, picking at the grass by his side. He tried to imagine it – the way grass snakes kept their families. Where did they live? Down in some hole, dug in the earth? Was Obi-Wan just as anxious to leave them as he said they were to see him leave, for fear that something might happen to him – a fear with far more basis than it would be for, say, Cody?

Something tugged at his chest at the thought of the risk Obi-Wan took to talk to him, not knowing how he might react, just to thank him. Just to speak – and Cody valued it, he told himself, he did. He valued – whatever it was now between them, a tentative sort of familiarity, some beginnings of a – a friendship, perhaps, which was a ridiculous thought in and of itself. To be friends with such a creature – a grass snake, spoken of in legends and myths, one who speaks with a forked tongue, that hides in the cloths of young girls…

It brought about a huff of laughter from Cody. He was, after all, no young girl, and even if he had been, he was not quite giving Obi-Wan the credit he deserved; he’d be overlooking the politeness, the kindness, the…

“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked, tilting his head slightly at the noise.

“Oh, just,” Cody waved his hand, shaking his head with a smile. “Just musings. Say, Obi-Wan, do you remember why you were in my shirt when I saw you the first time?”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan hummed, squirming a little where he was curled up again, just at the edge of the taller grasses. It took him a moment – perhaps he couldn’t quite recall. “I was only – curious, I believe. I wanted to see…” He cut himself off, making a noise that sounded like something between a cough and clearing his throat. “I wanted to hide somewhere that wouldn’t have made me so obvious. I would’ve left just as you did, but then your sister got out of the water earlier, and I didn’t quite pay attention quickly enough, and I…” He paused again, and it seemed to Cody he wrapped his tail into a circle a little more tightly. Self-conscious, perhaps, about his mistake – needlessly so, Cody thought. “I was distracted by something. And so it happened.”

Cody smiled, shaking his head lightly. “Well, it’s okay,” he said, shrugging a little. “If it weren’t for you being distracted, we may never have gotten the chance to talk.”

“Yes, that’s,” Obi-Wan said, quietly, interrupted by that strange cough again, “That’s true.”

They fell into a gentle sort of silence – Cody kept picking at the grass to his side, looking out into the lake, into the other shore on the other side – it was so far that he could barely see the trees sticking out through the wash of blue light the distance provided, but he could imagine it there. The same rustling pinetrees and evergreens bowed gracefully by the wind, washed by the same rains that plagued the sands on their side. The flowers that must’ve bloomed there in spring and summer, just as bright or perhaps even brighter than they were there – he wanted to know how many rivers led away from the lake, how many of them would freeze over in winter along with it…

He wondered what kind of people lived there. Some of them he met during celebrations, during the Midsummer nights that now seemed to have happened so long ago when, in truth, it’d only been a few months; this year, he’d found himself wearing a flowercrown before the first reel had concluded, placed on his head by a girl almost half his height – she’d laughed loudly and sung louder, and they’d bowed to each other low and joyful. She said she liked his smile, her manner of speech proper and pronounced, as though she’d come from one of the cities; he’d nodded and smiled to her again, knowing it was only good manners. If she’d been disappointed when he didn’t place his flowercrown on her, she didn’t show it – she danced alongside him for the rest of the evening and laughed, and laughed, and he’d found it perfectly pleasant. He gave his flowercrown instead to one of Rex’s friends who flushed scarlet while asking him to dance, her big dark eyes never quite meeting his. Perhaps it’d been on a dare or on a whim, her almost her whole head shorter than him, probably a good bit younger, too – he’d not cared much. It had not been a night to care – it had been a night to spin and be spun around by strangers and friends alike. It had been joy, and warmth, and summer.

He wondered if Obi-Wan celebrated anything – and how? The same celebrations as them, perhaps, but then again, why would it matter to grass snakes that it was Midsummer, or that the longest night in the year had passed? And still, Obi-Wan had known to greet him – so he knew, somehow…

A thought came to him, suddenly. Obi-Wan sounded about his own age – but who knew how grass snakes grew, anyhow? How did they live throughout their winters?

Did they live throughout the winters, came the terrifying thought.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, hurriedly, barely waiting through his answering hum. “Where will you go once winter comes? And – the rest of your family?”

“Mm…” He gave it a bit of thought, it seemed, and moved forward out of the grass, coiling in the coarse, hard sand around Cody’s shoes lazily. “It’s an… interesting ordeal, Cody. I’m afraid you won’t see me much, should you come out here during the winter.”

Cody nodded, swallowing, and couldn’t help but ask – “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” Obi-Wan said, gentle, almost consoling. Cody wasn’t sure why, but he knew he felt better for it – he knew Obi-Wan had felt his worry, somehow. “I’ll just – We all just – won’t be here. It’s too cold for us once snow begins to fall, and I…” He paused, heavily, before finishing, “I’m afraid I’ve already stayed out here for far too long than I should have.”

Cody turned to him, waiting for an explanation – or a reason – and Obi-Wan seemed to notice it, making a helpless sort of noise, and added, “I’m already… Well, I’m afraid this is the last time we may speak for now, Cody. Truth to be told, I only stayed out here because… Ah, on some off chance, I did hope I’d have the opportunity to say goodbye to you.”

“But you’ll – return, won’t you?” Cody asked, unsure why it mattered so much to him – why it was that this was so important. He simply liked Obi-Wan, perhaps, liked how easy it felt to talk to him, barring the strangeness of their very different lives – enjoyed it as much, perhaps even more, than talking to any of his other friends. He was… pleasant. Cody, as odd as it felt to admit it, didn’t want to lose that. “In the spring? We’ll talk again.”

“I’d like to, of course,” Obi-Wan agreed, his voice far warmer, as always, than a grass snake’s perhaps ought to have been, and Cody felt, again, as though some weight had been lifted from his chest. “It’s only that – well, Cody, lots can happen in a winter. And spring is, after all, a time of change. Who knows – both of us may be different people, once that happens.”

Cody ignored the choice of words – couldn’t have thought of an alternative himself, and so didn’t bother asking for elaboration.

“Spring is the time of change,” he agreed, adding, “and rebirth.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a time, only moving his head a little from side to side – a peculiar, almost human gesture, Cody thought. He tended to move, it seemed, whenever he was thinking about something deeply.

“You’re very right,” he said, finally, and let out a chuckle. “Then I do hope I see you again, Cody. You’ve been wonderful company.”

Cody ducked his head at that, suddenly strangely flushed – it was not something he heard often.

And, as odd as it felt saying it to a grass snake, he replied – “It’s been good to see you, too.”

“I trust it’ll be just as good next spring, then,” Obi-Wan laughed – softly – before he stretched his curled body again, dropping off the stone and falling into the grass, making his way to the taller, drying fields at a relatively slow pace. “Have a warm winter, Cody,” he wished, and, once Cody couldn’t see him in the grasses anymore, added, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Cody said, unsure why he felt as though he had something in his throat. “Be safe.”

To that, there was no answer.

Cody sat in place for long minutes, after, wondering where he would go and what he would do. He’d be – alright, Cody thought, that was most likely. He’d survived winters before, hadn’t he? Surely, like all the other snakes, he and his – family, they slept through it. Cody knew that much. And then, in spring…

He shook his head, glancing again at the lake – no birds, still. It felt strange, remembering that that was the initial reason he was there; difficult to recall, with the conversation. Still, there were no birds.

Omega would be happy.

He stretched, finally easing himself onto his feet – his leg had managed to fall asleep sometime during his stay, and he hopped on it a few times to get rid of the tingling feeling, hissing through his teeth. If one of his brothers saw him like that, that’d be an evening of laughter for all of them, he thought to himself, chuckling as he began to make his way back home.

It’d only be one hour.

He turned back, just before starting on the path. Looked at the still, empty lake. And at the tall, unmoving grasses. They’d be overtaken by frost, come first snow.

With a small sigh, he turned away and stepped onto the grass.

It’d only be one winter.