Did I love Sween from the beginning? The sure answer would be no. Perhaps, somewhere deep in the back of my mind, my true feelings lingered. But I was a moody, selfish buck in my coming-of-age years, quite taken to how I felt, not how others felt.

But I did feel something toward Sween from the beginning, something I'm ashamed of to this day. Envy. My brother Garten was my hero, the one I to whom I was a most loyal companion. Sween was never to love him as much as he loved her and that was clear in mind. But still, he went after her so, leaving barely any time for me. That was why I envied Sween.

It was only on the night of the feast that love first arose.

We all saw Sween coming. Wilfred had got a new telescope, which I thought was boring before I realized its true potential. Vicca and I, for we were always thick as thieves, managed to convince him to let us use it.

We all huddled around the scope in Wilfred's attic bedroom. Our home was perched on the edge of a plain of rolling hills. From his window, we could see for miles around.

We took turns watching Mrs. Dann's front step, waiting to see Sween start up the road toward our house. We waited and watched for nearly an hour before she finally appeared, smiling as she hurried toward us.

Vicca smirked at me. "I'll bet you a penny she'll arrive in the next ten minutes." She swept from the room, flying down the stairs as fast as she could in her long, white gown. Her rich auburn fur nearly matched the colour of the wood around her.

I took one last look through the telescope. "She'll never make it that fast," I said, hurrying after Vicca, "and I'll bet you that!"

I skipped the last three stairs and hit the ground in a roll that took me past the couches in the living room. The vaulted ceilings echoed with laughter as I skidded to a halt, standing firmly on my feet in front of Wilfred.

"Impressive," Wilfred said, without looking up, "but if you were doing it on rocky ground, and with a sword, it would be more of a twist than a roll. Also, you stepped on my toe."

Garten glanced up. He was poised behind a canvas in the corner, holding a paintbrush between his teeth. "Why the hurry?" he asked, snatching the brush from his mouth and letting it loose on the canvas. "Vicca just rushed out the door too. That can't be a coincidence."

"And it certainly isn't a good sign," Wilfred muttered, flipping his page.

I ran toward the front door, slipping and sliding on the carpet, calling over my shoulder, "Sween's coming up the road!"

"Really? Wait for me!" I heard Garten shout after me, followed by the clatter of paints and brushes being whisked away.

I ran after Vicca, fiddling with the pocket watch in my trousers, finally fishing it out. "It can't have been much shorter than five minutes since she left," I said to myself, my eyes darting between the watch and where I was running. "I'll have this one for sure!"

Vicca stood in the middle of the lane, waving to Sween in the distance. She was fast becoming more than a dot on the horizon.

"Hurry, Sween!" Vicca called, winking at me. "She's making good time."

"That doesn't mean anything. And no cheering her on!"

Vicca laughed the ringing laugh, like a peal of bells, that had caught the ear of every buck in Houncric Hill. Between it and her bright, violet eyes, I was amazed I hadn't had to chase off more suitors than just four in the last month. "Come on, Sween! You can do it!"

I peered through the late afternoon glare. Sween was closer than ever. "Don't come on, Sween!" I shouted.

Vicca elbowed me.

The final stretch was upon us. My hand was slick against the cool metal of the watch as Sween made her way toward us. Finally, she was leaning over in front of Vicca, panting. The time was nine minutes.

"Good job, Sween! You made it!" Vicca said, helping her straighten up. The two embraced.

"Was... it... a... race?" Sween panted, glancing at my glum expression.

"No," Vicca said, holding out her hand, "just a bet."

I groaned and slapped my penny into her palm. "Next time don't move so quickly!"

Sween smirked. "I didn't know I was coming until a few minutes-"

"Nine minutes!" Vicca supplied.

"Fine, until nine minutes ago." Sween laughed. "Glad hearts ride on fast feet, I suppose!"

"Glad hearts, my toe," I mumbled, stalking toward the house.

The does laughed.

Garten ran into me halfway up the walk. "What did I miss?" he asked, peering over me at the girls, who were taking their time, chatting.

I scowled at him, shoving past. "Nothing. Go see your bride!"

Garten frowned. "Whittle, be quiet! She'll hear you!" He wrung his hands anxiously.

"Fine," I spat, feeling bitterness well up inside of me, "I'll just leave all of you alone then. I'm perfectly fine by myself!"

"You do that," he said, craning his neck to watch the does' progress. "Da wants you at the fireside, anyway."

I didn't answer him. I stormed up toward the house, hearing the glad greetings behind me as Garten met Sween and Vicca, digging at my eyes to stop the tears. Not for anything would I cry. Not until I was safely hidden away, alone, where no one could see it.

I'm sorry this is so sad! I promise it will get better. At the very end. Kind of. #ItWillNotBeSointheMendedWood #SwhittleForever #IFeelSoBadForWhittle #Part2Soon! Oh yeah, and #TheTraitorsLove

Also, does anyone get Book-1-Picket vibes from Whittle? I just realized they seem a lot alike.