The trip back was. . . A lot, for everyone, the two day trip stretched to feel like eons of Hester's life. They left as quickly as they could, leaving the ruins behind them in their escape. Hester would never go back—shouldn't have to begin with.

The first day was spent guzzling health potions, wrapping cuts, bruises and burns, then the rest was them tediously retracing their steps from the sprawling forest groves. They silently marched, the two boys sleeping soundly on the back of Odin in front of Alexander and Hester leading the way.

The storm not clearing as they become drenched, the rain sticking around them like a plague, or a curse.

The mornings were the worst, yet the afternoon and evenings were when the boys would wake up from their day-long slumber and grace the world with their presence—and run around the makeshift camp Hester and Alexander had made that night.

The two would watch the boys giggle and scream exploring this new world around them each time they opened their eyes. "What is the other one called?" Alexander asked, turning to Hester, it made sense, this was probably one of Hester's young cousins, however Hester never knew his family. "No clue mate, we just sort of. . . Took him." Hester shrugs. "I'll think of something, probably, he'll be staying with me—Wilbur needs a friend."

Hester knew Wilbur didn't just want a friend. He wanted a brother, and he needed someone to grow up with.

Hester knew something that—even Alexander could not understand. This boy, the one who seemingly mirrored his complexion: was not loved. No one was looking for him and no one cared to, it made Hester's heart hurt and guts twist. He did not know this boy, and yet, loved him as his own.

Hester leaned back, lifting a hand as the rain greedily splashed into the palm of his waiting hand, the rain becoming soothing, Alexander muttered something under his breath. However not to Hester, or Wilbur or Odin. No one Hester could see, but he knew they were still there.

There were things Hester could not understand, that Alexander would have to go through by himself. Somethings that Hester could not teach even after his lifetime's worth of experience, Alexander sighed tirely Hester trying not to eavesdrop but hearing Alexander say. "That is Hester's call to make, not ours."

Hester thinks for a moment debating if he even wants to know, then tries to ask calmly and not be suspicious at all. "What are the voices saying right now?" He regretted how his voice trembled and how eager he sounded, like the voices were some sort of talent, something Alexander could—or would even want to show.

Alexander stays silent, Hester worriedly turns to see him, already knowing it was foolish and stupid of him to ask—him seeing Alexander has his eyes closed, and brows furrowed deep in thought. "Leo." He rasped out eventually, the emotionless—almost bored voice calling the two syllables a word being plucked right out of a book.

"Sorry, mate?"

"They call him Leo."

Hester leans back looking at the two running boys, screaming and shouting and laughing. He didn't understand. Could they really know? Or was this a trick? Hester couldn't comprehend it yet still his heart swells at the sight. He rests his eyes again, Alexander shifts then comments dryly "We are going to need a bigger house." He said lightly almost as an afterthought

Hester's eyes open and his breath catches. He fumbles for the right words to say, torn between reminding Alexander of his impending departure or letting him delight a while longer. Luckily, Alexander moves on all on his own, his gaze glassy and relaxed as he watches the two boys attempt to climb a tree.

I'll miss this. Hester knows, like announcing it will stop the hurting in his chest. More than anything he thinks he’ll miss these nights the most—the laughter and the stories—the trust and stillness between them.

One favor.

A debt repaid.

So much had changed from that first day of talking—fighting one another. So certain they'd never see each other after the first night. Alexander giving little more than a few passing words of comfort.

'You can stay as long as you need.'

But he didn't need Alexander if anything he had been a leech on him for far too long, asking far too much and receiving it all, he has to leave Alexander, it's what Hester needs and Alexander wants.

But still, he can barely imagine the world without him. Without the calm quiet of the steadily cramped cottage on the snowy plateau. The bastard had been digging his way into his heart since day one, and now, as he stands on the precipice of a life on his own once again with merely his—now two—sons, his heart aches to imagine waking up to grassy ground beneath his feet instead of the shining pure snow—and to imagine waking up to silence rather than the soft chat of Alexander or a bright laugh from up above or down below.

He’s torn, split between the life he’d dreamed of for so long and the life he’s come to love.

It had been two days.

They could see the plateau.

Hester was going home, this just wasn't it.

Alexander was leading, Hester staying farther back to watch the two boys, they slept soundly through the day.

Hester stopped.

Alexander turned no longer hearing the constant shadow of Hester's and Odin's feet hitting the ground.

Alexander stares—no words were said, a grim silence clinged to the air, a juxtaposition from a moment ago with relief, now being filled with a slow burning plea that he was wrong—that they were both wrong. That any second now Hester would look up, smile, shake his head laughing and continue on their way. Instead he said this.

"There were a lot of reasons why I didn't want you to come." Hester smiles sadly, it felt strained and hurt almost enough to make him stop. Almost.

"You weren't meant to see me like this." He doesn't know if he's talking about the fighting or the shame or the begging or the guilt. There were a lot of things Hester wanted to say but his words would fall on deaf ears—so he saved his breath.

The wind was at his face, cold and cutting, but he had never tasted anything sweeter. They sorted through their packs quietly, neither speaking—they felt like strangers again, moving awkwardly and clumsily next to one another, not entirely sure it was correct like stumbling around in a hazy maze half blind and conscious. They were lost.

"So, I guess this is it, mate."

Alexander and Hester stood alone in the rain, only a foot of space between them and yet miles apart, and maybe then some.

“I suppose so." Alexander agreed softly.

-I’ll miss you- Alexander wants to scream, but his lungs refuse to work. -I’ll miss you, I love you, I’m not sure if I can do this without you- Instead, all that comes out is a nervous laugh as he extends his hand—his real hand—to Hester the last time. He takes it, and their hands fit together as naturally as they always have, just resting there.

"You can visit anytime.” Alexander isn’t sure who Hester's reassuring—Alexander or himself.

Alexander nods, but still, he doesn’t let go, clinging on for dear life as though a tighter grip will keep Hester from flying away. He feels his heart swell with emotion, bittersweet on his tongue, but he would be lying if he missed, the stubborn bullheaded sharp tongued rowdy one of a kind;

Angel.

His first friend, and the truest. His soulmate, in a manner of speaking. Hester completes him in a way that no rank or weapon or another person ever could—more than just another friend, deeper than family. He wouldn't trade him for anything else, He wondered if he sees him in the same light. The same fondness intertwined with him.

All good things must come to an end. Thought that doesn't mean Alexander—or Hester for that matter—couldn't stretch it out a little longer.

"Uh, take care of the boys for me. You'll do a better job than I ever could." Alexander says almost looking to the sleeping bundle of blankets, if he did he might just decide to not let Hester go after all.

"Try to stay out of trouble for me then. You'll do a better job than me, most likely." Hester countered and smiled, it looked unnatural and painful.

"Understood. . ." Alexander laughs. "Then don't let the kids get thrown in with you."

Hester grins wryly.

"Let's try not to predict the future here, mate."

"Only someone as old as you could do that Hester."

"Not old." Hester rolled his eyes fondly.

"I can hear your wits leaving you already. You'd be lost without the boys."

"Mate."

They were dragging this out. Both knew it, how their banter stops as they can't let the fake humor go on anymore. The still quiet being forgotten as the two let a wave of their emotions become covered.

"Goodbye, mate."

"Bye, Hester. . ."

It was tragic, it was clumsy.

It was goodbye.

He doesn't want to let go. Doesn't want to be the one to walk away first. However Hester's fingers slip and he lets it. Watching as Hester smiles in a way that must hurt because his own feels so false and sycophant-like but if this is what Hester wants. Then he would give it to him.

He doesn't move, Hester takes one step back then two. Keeping his eyes trained on Alexander, like he would become translucent and disappear in front of his very eyes, that the darkness would eat him whole and would be lost forever. He sees Wilbur look up at him drowsily and blinks, he can't do this. Wilbur lifts his small hand and waves ever-so-slightly, not understanding what was happening still smiling softly as bright as the sun itself, he finds he can’t stay any longer.

And so, like a coward, he turns and runs.

Grabbing Odin and yanking the lead disappearing in the rain. He hears Hester's startled shout but doesn't turn back. Just one voice amidst the pelting storm. He hears his name, hears pleas for him to wait cut abruptly short, and out of the corner of his eye he sees a hand outstretched and lips half-parted.

He forces back the instinct to turn around and go back, because this is what Hester wants, isn’t it? A chance at a normal life again, away from him and of the fighting and the hiding and danger, away from the people which have stolen so much away from him. No more curses, no more battles, no more stories in his small cottage listening to Hester rattle on and on about his life, in the form of children tales.

Hester wants this, even if he doesn't.

He runs and he runs and he runs.


For a moment Hester stood there, hand out reaching the rain steadily dripping and wind rushing.

He slowly let his hand go to his side watching where Alexander had gone. Turned to the small bundle of fur blankets waking the two cranky boys and began walking in the opposite direction. He walks slowly, all the while wishing to be going the other way. This isn't what he wants but he can't leech of Alexander forever, he can't steal from him anymore.

He weaves past trees and rocks sliding down some areas and stops—closes his eyes before the first set of tears come. He fails, (like he always has when it comes to crying) and lets the cold rain wash over him. His face felt warm, his gut twisting.

He breaths, hearing the two footsteps of Wilbur and Leo stop. Then he runs. Runs as fast as he can, trying to get as far away from the area as possible.

He runs, until his lungs heave for breath, his legs burning beneath him because he hasn’t stretched them like this in ages. He needs to get away, far away, far enough that he won’t be able to see white snow on a smooth mountain in the distance, far enough that he won’t have to watch his happiness disappear, slip right through his fingertips as he reaches right for it.

He trips and falls on his knees. The world for a moment spinning.

A hand gently reached out, Hester looks and sees Wilbur, his honey gold eyes and crystal blue of Leo's.

Hester smiles, for the first time today, it being genuine and true. He sighs, shaking his head—because Gods what did he ever do to deserve all this. What had he done to be this happy, and yet still throw it all away?

He looks past Wilbur and sees Leo, shivering from the cold, teeth chattering. Hester picks both up and begins walking back. Back to Alexander. Back home.

Even if Alexander is currently running and running and running.

Until—

"What the hell Odin?"

He almost forgot how strong Odin was, he was so used to having control over him—over himself over the monsters. Yet everything went to hell and he could do nothing about it.

He yanked the cord, Odin didn't move. "Odin," Alexander said frustrated and angry and scared. "Odin move for the Gods sake already." He pulled harder. Odin stayed still.

«»«»«»«»«»

Go back!

They need you!

You need them!

Go back to the bird!

What if something bad happened?


«»«»«»«»«»

"Shut up." He whispered then yelled. "It is my life!" Alexander begged to the monsters. Then loosened his grip on the cord. "It is my life, just move already Odin." He begged.

Odin did not move.

Odin stood still.

And he looked back at what he was running from. Struck by a sudden sort of homesickness—it was the only word that seemed to match—as he watches the trees sway, the likes of which he’s never felt before. A loneliness, a hole that would never be filled—a bridge that would never be crossed.

And suddenly he knows deep down in his heart that if he doesn’t turn around now—if he doesn’t follow the story through to its end—he’ll regret it forever.

And so he turns and goes to his family—his home, his whole world.

Hester continues walking through the rain, a heavy hope on him as he holds on to Wilbur and Leo.

Speeding up and walking to where he was left behind—or where he left someone behind.

He smiles as the leaves shift.

It was not Alexander.

And Hester's smile slips as the Shadow person walks up to him. A cloak protecting it from the water of the rain. It steps out, baring its teeth, Hester puts Wilbur and Leo behind him, and takes his sword from his sheath.

He runs sword held high, ready to fight.

He takes the first swing.

Hester is many things. A fighter, yes. A protector as well. He’s level-headed and sharped-tongued when he needs to be, but even the greatest of men become fools when it comes to matters of the heart instead of the head.

Hester only realizes the full extent of his mistake when his legs buckle under the weight of the Shadow's weapon. He thrashes and turns swinging and dodging.

He's losing the battle, and in the moment of everything he doesn't know how to make this right as he's beaten against the waves of the storm, pulled by the winds, burned by the fire.

Saved by the Gods.

Killed by the demons.

He wants to laugh at the irony. He's almost been killed so many times, and always—always it had been a Shadow. He had fought wars—Gods and an entire army for his son. Only to fall, to his true Achilles heel his biggest weakness: to the likes of himself.

It seemed only fitting.

A rush of fear pulls at him—Wilbur and Leo, he needs to beat this, for them. They can't run, they would be hunted and Gods, Hester was so sick of running. Hester missed a swing and he knew, then and there, he was a goner—then an axe was thrown it nearly decapitates Hester yet still it hits its mark as the Shadows faces crumbles, its eyes dim of colour and is gone from this world of life.

A figure appears from the glassy mist.

A wry grin is on Hester's face from ear to ear. " 'Try to stay out of trouble' he said—" He mocked, sounding nothing like Alexander.

"—it would be fine, he said." Hester continued to joke, his words strained from unshed tears then smiles a little more genuine when Alexander continued walking past his axe, looking exhausted and stumbling then his arms encircle him.

Hester's own hand meets Alexander halfway, tugging him close, and he falls against his friend as steady arms curl around him. Hester leans into the gentle touch, Alexander's head immediately burrows into the crook of his neck. Then Hester feels a new set of arms—and then another.

Wilbur's arms reaching up and just barely entwine with Hester's across his waist, and Leo’s hands are clasped tightly around his leg protectively.

For a moment, there was only a tangle of limbs and four beating hearts, indiscriminate from one another. Clarity came in sweet, almost nostalgic waves. It was Wilbur’s face buried in his waist, Alexander’s arms around them all. It was Leo’s foot on his toes and the end of Alexander’s sheath digging uncomfortably into his side.

It’s a jumble of bodies and limbs and emotions and tears, both his cloak and shirt dampening beneath Alexander's cheek, his hair covering his face. It’s messy, the rain and wind beating down their backs makes it a little uncomfortable, but every touch has him nearly sobbing, every gentle assurance of love like a deal, a pact, a promise.

"Mate, are you crying?" Hester couldn't help himself as Alexander stood back eyes alight smiling softly. "Just got some rain water in my eyes." He says lying through his teeth. Alexander conveniently looked away to wipe furiously at his eyes. Hester had to stifle a laugh. -Stubborn, until the very bitter end, aren’t you, my friend?- Hester couldn't contain his laughter and echoes of it reverbed around the-now-not-so-silent forest.

They're all here: Hester, Alexander, Wilbur, Leo. They're all here for one another. They were a family.

They are a flock.

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Art by Edde (left) on Aminoapps.com
All written using Novelist
ONE LAST CHAPTER AFTER THIS, ONE MORE GODS FORSAKEN CHAPTER I mean, It's more of an epilogue, but still, also, don't ask why in the epilogue Wilbur and Leo can both speak, I have not come up with a genius, and incredible idea of why ;-; anyway, I hate how this one turned out, the pacing is off by about a mile lol I might edit it for how much I hate it.
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