The first time Brenik had learned about Bray’s gift was nine years ago at the age of eleven, and finding out had pissed him off.
They were both outside laughing in Ruth’s garden, when a large raccoon scurried past them out of nowhere. Bray had screamed so loudly that she frightened her own body to grow into a larger size.
She hadn’t just grown, though. Everything about her was human—no pointed ears, no overly sharpened canines, and no wings.
Ruth had been absolutely thrilled when she found out, and Bray quickly learned how to change back and forth between bat and human. Brenik had hated it, hated her for it at first. And he kept thinking that maybe the same thing would happen to him, but it hadn’t.
After a while, he accepted what she could do and was grateful for it at times, but a glimmer of envy was always there.
A week after Ruth passed away, adjusting had not been easy. Brenik and Bray had both stayed in the hollow of the tree—they had only left to eat peaches—until that night.
Bray flew off, and he had known exactly where. Ruth had talked to her about going to college one day, but Bray always shook her head no, even though the twinkle in her eye told him she wanted to go. Well, that situation didn’t pan out.
He had decided to follow Bray and caught up to her easily—she hadn’t known he was behind her. Right before she arrived in front of the frat house, she descended from the air and ducked behind a car to alter forms to appear human.
Brenik was livid. How long had she been doing this? Was this her first time? He followed her until she approached a blond guy with a can of beer in his hand.
She had walked right up to him and taken a swig of his drink. “Do you want to go back to a room?”
The blond human licked the center of his lip. “You get straight to the point, don’t you?”
“Tonight, I do.” Bray’s voice sounded different that night and less optimistic than her usual tone.
Brenik hadn’t stayed to hear the rest. He flew back to his tree hole where he had to sit around and do nothing except sleep.
Later that night, Bray had attempted to sneak in, smelling of a mixture of odors he did not want to think about.
With a scowl, he had sat up. “Why did you do that?”
Startled, she turned to face him. “What?” Her voice sounded mournful, but Brenik hadn’t cared.
“You know what I mean,” he remembered firing back. “You went to that party and apparently screwed some guy.”
“I did. So what?” she replied, just as bitter. “It wasn’t worth it.”
“This is wrong, that we had to come here. You can go and do as you please, while the only thing I will ever be able to fuck is my own damn hand,” he had growled, beyond fed up.
“It didn’t help. It only made it worse,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” Her defeated voice had stripped away his anger.
“I—I thought it would help me feel better and erase some of the pain of Ruth, but it didn’t.”
“But at least you can do anything you want.” He would have given everything to be anything other than himself at that moment.
“I know you are frustrated I can become human, but the thing is, I can’t be happy about it because I know how much you want it. If I could, I would give the gift to you, Brenik.”
She had moved to sit next to him on his hammock, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “It may sound selfish, but can you not do it anymore—at least for a little while?”
“I don’t want to change forms, not after tonight. I promise we’ll get through this together and figure something out.” He had known she meant it, too.
The next morning, Brenik had drawn Bray a picture in a note, hinting that he would be back in a few weeks. He had flown off in the direction of the Stone of Desire to beg it to do something, so he didn’t have to feel like he did—to make it so his sister didn’t have to either.
He had pounded over and over on the Stone, but nothing had happened—it chose not to answer him. To try and make himself feel less, he would spend weeks in the forest by himself—completely alone.
Brenik shoved away the memory and attempted to erase it, as he gripped the portrait of himself with a tightened fist to the point where it might rip the material.
He reached the long gravel trail, knowing the cabins weren’t that much farther away. The grainy tan terrain pressed roughly into his feet, but he relished the ache. There would be time for shoes once he got inside.
Crunch, crunch, crunch—a powerful pound to the grainy earth sounded as something—someone drew near.
Squinting his eyes against the bright sun to get a better view, Brenik focused intensely on the incoming person. Short black hair shaved close to the head, dark skin, blue running shorts stopping at mid-thigh—no shirt.
Standing his ground, Brenik wasn’t going to move around the guy. The man came to a halt as he approached closer, causing Brenik to stop in place. He couldn’t help but notice the perfectly chiseled chest that seemed to be sculpted from a Greek God itself, and the beads of sweat sprinkled across the guy’s forehead and shoulders.
“Are you all right?” the guy asked as he looked Brenik up and down, from his bare feet and back to his face.
“Yes,” Brenik responded with a quirked eyebrow. Why wouldn’t I be all right?
“O—kay. Well, you are walking around out here wearing no shoes on this rough surface. Not to mention, fancy slacks and a collared shirt.” He tapped the tip of his shoe toward Brenik’s big toe.
“Just walking back to my house.” Brenik pointed in the direction of where the cabins were located up ahead.
“You live out here?” the guy asked as he tossed his head back to glance over his shoulder.
“Yeah, cabin twenty-three,” Brenik lied with a tone that was comfortable and easy.
“Oh, the Thompson’s place. They’re back already?”
“No, I’m their nephew, Brenik.” The lie slid off his tongue, as if it had been planted and already arranged there.
“Nice to meet you, Brenik. I’m Jeremy Jones. I live at cabin twenty-five year-round.” Jeremy stretched out a large hand that was about the same size as Brenik’s, his deep brown eyes open and warm.
“You, too.” Brenik felt liberated. This was the only other human he had talked to besides Ruth, and he was intrigued.
Jeremy turned around and motioned at Brenik with a wave. “Come on, I’ll walk you back since you don’t appear to be from around here. No one in their right mind would be walking a track barefoot and carrying around… What is that exactly you’re carrying?”
“Oh, just a painting.” Brenik drew the portrait closer to his body to protect it, but not because he thought this Jeremy would take it and run. But because it was his.
“Right … let me see. My mom’s a painter.” Jeremy’s eyes fixed on the backside of the canvas.
Hesitating for a moment, Brenik finally turned the canvas around to face Jeremy, since it would be odd to try and hide the portrait any longer.
Jeremy let out a low whistle followed by a deep chuckle that made Brenik unable to hold back a close-lipped smile, tilted up at the sides. “So, what I said back there about thinking it strange how you’re dressed like this and barefoot”—he looked Brenik up and down—“this just tops the whole cake. Who the hell walks a track like that”—Jeremy tipped his hand down and spun his index finger in a circle—“and then carries a portrait of themselves?”
“It was a gift … from my sister.” If Jeremy wanted to know more about his sister, the lies would continue to come easily.
Jeremy inched closer and examined the picture more thoroughly. “Well, she did a damn good job.”
“She did.” Or at least the Stone had.
They walked for a little longer until they reached the first set of homes. Each one was built from chestnut-colored logs with the same porch steps positioned in the middle where the entrance door was. Jeremy came to a stop in front of cabin number twenty-five. “Well, see you around, Brenik. Take good care of that portrait and make sure the next time I see you, you have shoes on. Who the hell knows what’s on the gravel out here.”
Grinning, Brenik said, “I’ll scavenge some up somewhere.”
Jeremy started up the stairs as Brenik turned to head to his new place. “Oh hey, Brenik, do you watch football?”
“I have never watched a game.”
“What? That’s straight up insanity. My place, tonight at seven. I have the week off, so I’ll have plenty of beer.”
Brenik had never been into sports much, and every time a game was on, Ruth had changed the channel because no one in the house was interested. He was willing to try new things these days, and Jeremy seemed friendly enough.
It only took him a few minutes to walk the rest of the way to the cabin. They were spread out far enough to where there was enough privacy from the neighboring homes, but not too far in case someone was needed in an emergency. But he would be sticking to himself for the most part.
The log cabin wasn’t in as great of shape as Jeremy’s, but it would do for the time being.
Ascending the couple of steps, each one groaning from the pressure of his feet, Brenik approached the ragged “Welcome Home” doormat. He lifted it by the corner and found the silver key, waiting to be snatched by him.
His stomach rumbled, and he turned back around to the fruit tree in the front yard. Marching back down the steps, he plucked two ripe oranges, his mouth ready for the tangy taste.
Unlocking the door, he headed into his new place—it was the same as the last time he had snuck in there when the Thompsons were gone. They would always leave the windows open, such trustworthy people.
Dust filled his nostrils, and he sneezed inside his inner elbow. Brenik studied his surroundings and recognized the small living room, tiny kitchen, and he already knew the bathroom and bedroom were behind the closed door.
He padded into the bedroom and flipped on the light switch—one large bed and a dresser with a mirror on top. His image from the mirror stared back at him. Brenik approached it, gazing at himself—he admired his sleek black hair, pale unlined skin, and the perfect, plump bottom lip. He ran the bottom of his tongue across it as his pale blue eyes watched, and he felt his pants tighten in the area that wanted to be satisfied.
Brenik set the canvas on top of the dresser next to the oval mirror, then walked to lay down on the semi-comfortable bed. Peeling one of the oranges, he took a whiff of the citrusy scent and hunger coursed through his veins, all the way to where his fingers connected to the fruit.
Pulling a fresh slice out, dripping with juice, Brenik placed it between his lips, and savored each magnificent bite. But as the juice and fruit ran down his throat, the orange was no longer sweet—it became bitter and sour before turning to a taste which had to be similar to decay.
Jolting up from the bed, Brenik ran to the bathroom and gagged over the toilet bowl as he firmly gripped the sides. The fruit started to come back up—it skated up his throat and plunked down into the water, no longer the color orange but black and tarnished.
Everything that came up was black as it swirled in the water. Hastily, Brenik flushed the toilet and hurried to lay back down in bed.
Thoughts churned around inside his head of his deal with the Stone of Desire. So, I won’t be able to eat fruit anymore. he thought. There could only be one thing that would satisfy his hunger, and he would do anything to achieve it.
Drifting off to sleep, Bray entered his dreams, even then he couldn’t rid his mind of his family.
Brenik fell to the ground in a puddle of goo, two hands gripping his sides to pull him up.
“I cannot be a mother to you two—there was never supposed to be two, not even one. And you’re too weak.” Two bright cerulean eyes stared down at Brenik. “I never wanted this—never wanted to be a mother.”
If it was not his mother who was holding him, then who was it? His heavy head lolled to the side, where he focused on another tiny frame holding him, covered in wetness.
“It does not take long for our kind to take care of ourselves, so I know you two can do it. I am sorry, but I cannot stay. As brother and sister, at least you will have each other.” Without any tears falling from her face, Brenik’s mother flew away. He watched her dark wings beat back and forth as she strayed farther and farther away from him into the distance.
“Little brother,” the one holding him whispered in his ear, while clasping his hands.
Brenik did not say anything—he could not. His body felt too weak.
“Brenik, we were together inside our mother. I am Brayora, remember?”
He remembered now as everything came together. Inside their mother, they were able to communicate with each other in different ways. They had given each other names and would listen to their mother’s voice and movements.
“I remember,” he finally answered.
“We have to leave and find something to eat,” she rushed out.
They didn’t fight over food inside of their mother’s stomach—he had given a lot to Brayora because she was so hungry, even though she had always offered the nutrients to him first.
As soon as Brenik tried to stand from the grassy area, his knees buckled, and he fell back down to the ground.
Brayora grabbed under his arms and dragged him backward, with the energy she must have received from their mother’s food. He didn’t have the strength to try to do anything on his own.
His tiny brain latched onto his surroundings and instinct let him know what the various shapes and figures were as he looked around. Brayora halted in front of a tree, and slowly lay his body against the warm dirt.
Wings crinkled behind his back, and he had to adjust them since they were still covered in liquid. The twins needed to find somewhere to wash off.
A boisterous stomping sounded in the distance, and Brenik and Brayora froze. Over the roaring noise, Brenik turned around to see the tree had a small opening on the bottom. “In here.” Frantically, he pointed to the hole and motioned Brayora to go inside first.
Gathering as much strength as he could muster, he crawled inside after her. Brenik swiveled to the side and planted himself against the inside of the tree.
The stomping became louder and louder, and Brenik and Brayora held their breathing steady as best as they could.
Like earlier, the world was now suddenly quiet. Brenik perked an ear up and heard not a single sound—no movement. He believed them to have stopped. Growing braver, he peered out of the hole and squirmed forward. Nothing was there.
“You can come out, Brayora.” As soon as he scooted all the way out, something snatched him off the ground. Brayora screamed from below and tried to fly up to him, but she could not use her wings yet.
With his heart frantically beating in his chest, Brenik turned to face what had him in their grip. He saw horns—all four black. Two protruded from the front and two from the sides. A flat nose with thin twin slits was puffing hot air onto his face from a large gray head.
His own body shook with fear as the gray creature pulled him even closer.
“Bat,” the creature murmured.
“Yes, that is what I am!” Brenik spat. He was not going to be afraid.
“Feisty, feisty, little bat.”
“Let my brother go!” Somehow, Brayora had managed to use her wings and was in front of the horned creature’s face.
“Two of you. You are lucky I’m the one who has stumbled upon you.”
“Why is that?” Brayora asked as she tried to unwrap the creature’s thick fingers from around Brenik’s body.
“Because I am one of the only Jovkins who chooses not to hunt your kind down.” As Brenik got a better look, he noticed the Jovkin was female. Her golden yellow eyes narrowed at them, as if she wanted to change her mind and have them for a snack.
Reaching with her other hand, she plucked a luscious peach from the tree branch. “You see this?”
“Yes,” Brenik and Brayora said simultaneously. He licked at his lips as the Jovkin held the fruit.
“Your kind has been eating all our fruit.” Large crooked teeth smiled at the both of them.
“I am sure there is plenty to go around since we are so small,” Brayora insisted.
“That is likely not true, since we eat most of them.” The Jovkin thrust the peach closer to Brayora, and without hesitation, his sister bit into it. “My name is Junah.”
Rotating the fruit toward Brenik’s face, Junah brought it up closer to his mouth. It took him four times to finally get a full bite into his small mouth, and the peach was delicious.
After swallowing, he pointed from himself to his sister. “My name is Brenik, and this is my sister—Brayora.”
“Where is your mother?” Junah scanned the trees of the forest, searching for what was not there.
“She left because she did not want us,” he answered.
Junah’s shoulders seemed to relax, but her face was filled with fury. “Well, I suppose that means I will have to give you two a bath and find you some clothing. You cannot go around smelling like your mother any longer.” The anger was no longer on her face as it contorted into revulsion.
“Can I sit on you?” Brayora squealed as she dove forward to rest on Junah’s broad shoulder.
Junah’s revulsion seemed to subside, and a small smile crossed her face as she brought Brenik to rest on top of her other shoulder.
Brenik was thankful for this because while Brayora’s wings were already working, he was still too tired to try his out for the first time.
While traveling to the river, Junah watched the area with an intensity and a new protectiveness as she carried them along. For the first time in his short life, Brenik now felt safe and secure with his new family.