The fight was a blur of stabs and slashes. I could see hardly anything through my anger and instinct, and I felt no pain, even when his teeth met my fur. It felt as though it ended as quickly as it began. The wolf, coward that it was, fled into the forest. But he'd left his damage.

Vicca was dead. I knew it even before I stooped to check for a pulse. Her innocent face, the one I'd grown used to seeing so beautiful and troublesome with the village bucks, was marred with cruel gashes. Her body was limp. I clutched her and sobbed.

"Whittle." I felt an arm around my shoulder as Sween dropped to her knees at my side.

I turned to her, letting my tears flow freely just as I knew hers were. "What if I'd come sooner?" I whispered, holding Vicca tighter.

Sween looked down. "Whittle, your arm is bleeding."

"What if I hadn't hesitated? What if I'd heard you the first time?"

I saw her eyes fill with pain. "Please, Whittle. Not now. We have to go! We have to tell..." She broke down in sobs.

I closed my eyes and fell the pain and sorrow expand in my chest. My head spun and my arm was sickeningly wet and sticky. So dizzy... Vicca...

"Whittle!" I heard a hoarse scream in the distance. "Whittle, listen to me! No, no, no, no..."

Everything went dark.

***

Voices and blurry shapes moved around me, growing louder and quiet in surges. My dreams were hot and feverish, filled with memories of Vicca. Playing at Farmer Folds'. Fishing in the little brook. Playing in the forest. Every memory made the knife in my heart dig a little deeper.

Finally, I managed to hold onto a voice, letting it pull me back into reality. It was Sween's.

"Whittle?" She sounded hollow. As her face came into view through my half-shut lids, I realized that she looked worse. "I don't know if you can hear me... You've been sleeping for days. The infection in your arm was bad, but the fever broke. Doc thinks you'll be okay..." I heard a sniff and let myself stir. She paused, but didn't stop speaking. "Before... before... Well, just before, Vicca gave me this. It... it's a letter. She told me to give it to you. I don't what it says; I didn't read it. But, maybe when you wake up..." She sniffed again. "I'll just leave it here." I heard her shuffle to my nightstand and place something there, near my ear.

She started to leave but I let my eyes flutter open. "Sween?"

She turned, her black dress swishing on the floor as she faced me. Her face became less tight. “You're awake.” Her voice trembled slightly, and she smiled through tears.

My smile was more of a grimace. I coughed. “Water?”

She crossed to my side at once, filling a cup from the pitcher on a nearby table. As I drank, she settled into the chair at my bedside, her eyes shut tight. “I thought I was going to lose you too, Whittle. Like I lost Garten... Like I lost her...” She groped for the hand of my injured arm, which lay limp on the bed. The fur on my neck raised as she held it. “I was so afraid.”

I set the cup on the nightstand, my hand pausing by the letter. Vicca's loopy handwriting had etched my name on the front and my heart broke to look at it.

“Take the letter, Whittle.” Sween opened her eyes.

“Sween, I... It's too soon.” My voice was so weak, though I tried to sound strong. I started to draw my hand back.

“No, Whit,” she whispered, her eyes locking on mine. “I promised her. Please.”

My heart beat quicker as I looked into her face, so tired and worn. I took a deep breath, then nodded. My fingers closed around the cold, smooth parchment.

I brought it to my chest and began to unfold it, which was a slow process with one hand. Finally, I held it by the edge of the parchment, fingering the folds Vicca had made in the last minutes of her life. My eyes roved the page.

Whittle,

I'm walking here with Sween now. She doesn't know what I'm writing about and not for anything will I'll tell her. You see, it's time, I think, to test the waters. She might not say it aloud but she's searching for an honest answer, someone to tell her the truth. I think that it is time, my dear brother, to tell her how you feel.

My eyes widened and I glanced in Sween's direction. She still watched me, her eyes watery and sad. She gripped my hand as though it were her lifeline, which made the sinking in my stomach no better.

It's going to be difficult and it's no doubt that it may be the hardest war you'll ever fight. But the feelings are there, Whittle. If you're honest with her, you'll set yourself apart. I'm going to send her with this letter. Whenever it gets to you, I want you to take her hand, look her in the eye, and tell her how you feel about her. And I'll know if you don't, so you'll pay for any cowardice, you got it?

Love,

Vicca

I tried to smile as I put the letter aside, but my stomach churned anxiously, and the aching in my heart as I imagined Vicca's name upon on the parchment, her final well-wishing. But I forced myself to look at Sween, watching as her eyes followed the letter, then wandered back to my face.

“What did it say?” she asked, after a minute.

“It...” My thoughts moved in panicked succession. “It told me that I should... should... tell you something,” I managed, trying hard to keep my voice from cracking.

Sween's brows knit. “Tell me what?”

I swallowed. “Nothing in particular.” My lie was weak, even to my own ears.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression growing dangerous. “You cannot almost die on me and then lie to my face. Give it me.” She leaned forward, skirting my attempts to keep it from her hand, and snatched the letter.

“Wait, Sween, let's talk about this!” I tried, desperate as her eyes began to move over the page.

There was awful few minutes of silence as her eyes moved faster and faster over the letter. I was breathing hard, trying to control my panic as tears began to stream down her face. Finally, she lowered the letter in shaking hands and stared at me, the expression on her face almost horrified.

I tried to smile but again, it faded. “I'm sorry. I didn't want... I wanted to tell you myself.”

She continued to stare at me, her mouth slightly open. Then, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Are you going to say anything?” I asked, hating the silence.

“No,” she mouthed. Then, in a whisper, “Whittle? Do you have something to tell me?”

I sat up straighter, holding her hand tighter and hoping I appeared confident. I looked into her beautiful eyes. “I love you, Sween Furrow and I... I...” I laughed wryly as a bit of moisture sprang in my eyes. “I think someone must be cutting an onion nearby. Is mother making soup?” It was the worst thing that had ever come out of my mouth.

Sween sat there, face full of shock and confusion. Then, she started to laugh, harder and harder until I was afraid my failure had cost her her sanity.

“That,” she said, through tears of mirth, “was the worst confession of love I've ever heard.”

“Oh? Have you heard a lot?”

She slapped me, in play, I assumed, since she still smiled. “Well, at least I know the blood loss didn't affect your head,” she said. “No more damage than before.”

I laughed, but my stomach still flipped uneasily. When our laughter subsided, I took another deep breath. “So... does this mean it's your turn to say you love me back?”

Her eyes widened for a moment before another smile broke through. She brought my hand to her lips and kissed it gently before laying back on the bed. “I think it means that it's time I help your mother with that soup,” she whispered, getting to her feet. “Goodnight, Whittle.”

She left the room before I could say another word.

I felt the weight of Vicca's handkerchief in my pocket.

#TheTraitorsLove I'm sorry I took so long with this one! It's been a long time. :( Hopefully more soon, now that I'm back into it!