Like the dying fire used for cooking, red and orange colors of autumn were slowly disappearing along the valley as the season approached its end. White snow peaks spread across the mountain range, disappearing into the cloudy skies. The forest of cedars deepened its green, but the flowers of the meadow were gone. The bees had left, the sun would set earlier, and the crispness of the air had sharpened, forcing me to begin wearing my cloak and stuff animal fur into my boots.

  “Winter is nearly here,” Lillie said. The wind was blowing harshly, causing both of us to move closer to the fire we had created. After many failed attempts and eventual successes, I was able to feel accomplished with my fire starting skills, with the help of Lillie’s material gathering and watchful eye. We gathered stones to create a designated circular fire-pit, a place where we officially knew that we would come together. I began bringing fish, and Lillie brought minerals and other spices. We arranged the sticks used for skewering the fish next to the rocks after each use. On this particular cold autumn afternoon, Lillie had a surprise for me.

  “It’s bread dough,” she said after revealing a wooden bowl filled with a creamy, round substance. A waft of yeasty aroma filled my nostrils as I peered over it, and I moved my finger upon the surface, feeling the soft but cold dough.

  “What are we supposed to do with that?” I asked while glancing up and removing my hand.

  “We roast it over the fire, silly,” she replied and set the bowl down on one of the stones. “Watch this.” She grabbed one of the skewers and let it slightly heat over the fire, causing the grease from the previously cooked fish to sizzle. Then she waved it, cooling it from the heat, and handed me the thick stick. Lillie began rolling out the dough into snake-like shapes upon a smooth rock she had found in the forest. She rolled four snakes, then wrapped one in a spiral around the end of the long stick.

  “Try it,” she said, and I grabbed the dough. It was soft, squishy, and slightly warmer after being worked through by Lillie’s hands. As I twirled it around my own stick, it began to stretch.

  “Quickly, before it loosens up too much,” Lillie encouraged, and I wrapped faster, which caused the dough to loosen even more. I looked at Lillie’s. It was a perfect spiral, the dough even throughout. Mine was uneven, stretched out, and widely spaced. I frowned with disappointment in myself, but Lillie patted my arm with a gentle hand.

  “Looks great,” she said with a grin, then proceeded to roast the bread-dough over the fire.

  “It looks nothing like yours,” I grumbled while grimacing as I looked at the ugly bread dough on my stick.

  “What did you expect on your first try?”

  “I didn’t think it would be so complicated.”

  “It’s not. It is just your first time handling dough.” I watched Lillie slowly rotate her dough over the open flames. The spiraling dough began turning brown as it roasted. “Come on, cook your bread.” I stepped closer to the fire, held the stick over the flames, and copied Lillie’s careful rotation. My hands grew warm from standing close to the fire, and my cheeks felt flushed, but the cold wind against the back of my wings caused me to slightly shiver.

  “You don’t want to cook it too fast; otherwise, the dough will be gooey in the middle and hard on the surface,” Lillie said while bringing the dough close for both of us to examine. “It needs a slow rotation in order to evenly cook.”

  I nodded, feeling grateful how much Lillie was willing to teach me, even if it were things she had learned long ago. She stood close to me, and I stole glances at her efforts—occasionally looking at her face, specifically her lips. As our bread slowly roasted, I listened to the sound of the crackling wood and enjoyed the pleasant aroma of bread and smoke. I never cooked bread before; only had I cooked fish with Lillie’s careful instructions. I was thoroughly enjoying the process of learning this new concept of eating and sharing meals. Cooking with Lillie became a new favorite pastime. She was kind, patient, and a helpful teacher. It became something I desired—a new passion that I felt burning in my heart. It was an experience worth waiting for each month. She always brought something interesting to try, and I began to feel inspired to bring other foods to experiment with.

  Maybe mushrooms would taste good cooked. If Lillie and I lived here in the meadow together, what else could we make?

  “Looks good!” Lillie exclaimed as she pointed to the bread at the end of my stick, and I removed it with quick movements, nearly burning my fingers. The second effort to spiral the dough came easier, although less beautiful than Lillie’s, which, again, she only encouraged me that my efforts would improve the more I practiced. When all the bread had finished roasting, Lillie lifted two jars from her wicker basket and placed them in the middle of the blanket while I moved the cooked bread onto a napkin. While sitting, I watched as she opened the wooden lids of the jars, revealing a red color of a berry mixture and smooth honey. She then pulled apart the spiral bread, using smaller pieces to scoop out the berry mixture.

  “Try it,” she said and placed the bread into her mouth. I followed her every step, and I savored every bite. It was sweet, warm, and comforting. My stomach, nearly full from consuming fish from earlier, felt warm and delighted to eat something so sweet.

  “Did you make this berry mixture?” I asked while licking my fingers after my last bite of bread.

  “My mother and I did. It’s called marmalade,” she answered while scraping out the last bits of it from the jar.

  “Did you gather the berries from the forest?”

  “I did. There are so many berry plants in the summer months. I usually gather them every year, and then I make marmalade with my mother. I really love the gathering part, especially this year my new friend joined me. I also like eating it. Not so much the making process.” Lillie looked down and began fidgeting with her fingers, and I looked at her hands. As usual, they looked dull, rough, and had many scars.

  “What’s wrong with the making process?” I asked.

  “Oh…” Lillie’s voice lowered, and I waited patiently for her to finish. She continued to play with her fingers, scratching at different stains from the berries, and then eventually spoke again. “It’s just my mother. She can be quite difficult to work with sometimes.”

  “How so?”

  “Oh, she’s just very critical. Seems like nothing I do is right by her.” Lillie grew silent again. This time, she looked away, towards the cliffside. Her eyes were distant, and her mind was even further away. I could that see she was deeply agonized, although I did not entirely understand the complexities of her relationship with her mother. My own caretakers—my parents—were stern with their teachings during my younger years. However, my relationship with them was clear and unproblematic, and I never doubted their ways. I knew that they abided by our traditions and ways of raising younglings. I knew in my heart that they taught me the rigid ways of survival of the Teragane people because they wanted me to thrive. When my parents left me at ten years old, it was proof that they had fulfilled their obligation, providing me with everything I needed to live on my own. I never once doubted their methods, nor did I question their absence in my life. It was obviously different than Lillie’s, perhaps others from the forests, but I was confident that there was a greater purpose for the Teraganes to practice our particular traditions. However, what I couldn’t understand was what Lillie’s parents were attempting to accomplish by being so critical and rigid in their methods of teaching and raising her, specifically their lack of support in the things that she did.

  She is successful in anything she does—why wouldn’t her mother be able to see that?

  The wind blew harshly, pushing my hair around in a tangled mess against my eyes, and I shifted closer to Lillie, feeling the need to comfort her. She still looked far off, lost in her own thoughts and unsaid pain. I enjoyed her marmalade, but I did not like the fact that it brought up a painful subject. As I sat next to her, I looked down at her hands folded against her green skirt. My eyes trailed upwards, and I moved my hand and began softly rubbing her arm with the back of my fingers, feeling the thin material of the tan-colored blouse. I pushed my hand gently against her arm and felt the warmth of her skin, but her distant gaze seemed preoccupied to notice my affection.

  “I think you always do right,” I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I wish your mother could see you the way I do.”

  “Yeah, and how is that?” she asked with a scoff. “A silly girl running through the woods to escape life’s obligations?”

  “A girl capable of accomplishing anything in spite of the burdens of her reality.” Lillie’s eyes widened, and she slowly turned her head, causing her white hair to fall over her shoulder, and the wind gently swayed the loose strands, causing the beads in small braids to clink together. Her cool hues had vanished, but, at times, I could see hints of the undertones in the light of the dancing fire. I gazed into her sorrowful eyes, but then glanced down at her berry-stained hands, feeling drawn to feel their warmth once again. So, I slid my hand into hers, intertwining our fingers, allowing the tantalizing feeling to overtake my body once more.

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  “I wish that I could see myself that way,” Lillie whispered as she looked away, but her fingers tightened between mine. “Thanks, anyway.”

  “You are so much more than just the burdens you carry.”

  “Yeah? Good to know.” As my heart raced within my chest and my fingers tingled in our embrace, I felt the urge to tell Lillie that she never had to return to her life in the forest, and that she could be free from her parent’s rigid obligations burdening her. I desperately wanted to pick her up with my arms and tell her that I would fly her away to my home, where she could live happily with me, never again bothered by a hard life. I wanted more than anything to inform her how much I cared about her and wanted to make her happy and that I would never force her to do anything she didn’t want to.

  But.

  My instincts said otherwise. My stupid instincts told my beating heart to settle down. My ever so-prudent instincts told that me a forest-dweller could never survive in the mountains with me, let alone be happy in the cold, dark cave where the Sage of the Teragane could discover her and easily throw her out, perhaps threatening our friendship forever. What could I even offer her up there in the mountain? I had only enough food for me and had been living with only the bare essential things for my survival. Lillie could never be happy up in the mountain—no, she needed more, and I was not ready to give her what she deserved. I needed more time and more strength to be the man who could deliver on his promises.

  “Winter is nearly here,” Lillie said, and we moved closer to the fire, keeping our hands intertwined and ever so warm.

  ***

  On our last day together before winter officially swept the province with snow and ice, Lillie brought me three jars of berry marmalade, honey, and fresh bread.

  “I know it’s not much, but perhaps you can enjoy it for a few weeks,” she said while twisting the ends of her hair with her slim fingers.

  “This is amazing,” I said while examining the items she placed on the blanket. “Thank you for the kind thought. I brought you fish, too.” I realized that it was our first time exchanging food to take back to our individual homes. Initially, I did not actually plan to give her the fish. I brought the fish, as usual, to cook together during our time in the meadow. However, in that moment of her generosity and thoughtful consideration, I also wanted to participate in sharing something with her, allowing my emotional instincts to guide my heart.

  “Oh, my parents will be shocked that I brought fish home,” she said as I placed the fish next to her basket.

  “Why?” I asked and tilted my head.

  “Well, we don’t really have access to fish. Actually, most people in my neighborhood don’t even know how to gather fish, and the allotment never has any. I don’t think anyone is fast enough to catch the river fish or willing to take the long journey to the lake. Maybe some hunters—fishmongers.”

  “Then it will be something you can impress your parents with.”

  “My parents are very difficult to impress.” Lillie scoffed while rolling her eyes. “If I bring home fish, they will only demand for me to continue.”

  “Then, don’t share it with them. Keep it only for yourself, or share with your friends.” My pounding heart felt achy, for I did not want to trouble Lillie or cause her more problems at home. I couldn’t understand how something as simple as bringing certain foods home could cause her problems. As her eyes darted nervously while she fidgeted with her hands, I bit my lower lip, attempting to find a better solution.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

  “Please, I don’t want to cause you more problems.”

  “Oh, Sable, you don’t cause me any problems.”

  “Okay, but please, if the fish will be problematic with your family, then let us just share it here, right now.”

  “It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” Lillie began shaking her head, then gestured ambiguously with her hands. “I’ll think of something.”

  “Lillie, please.” She stood up and began nervously brushing off her green skirt while sniffing as if she were about to cry, and I rose to my feet as well and grabbed one of her hands. Her eyes lifted as she finally looked at me. Her countenance was conflicted and on the brink of tears. I pulled her close to me, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, and I felt her arms around my waist. Her body began to tremble, and her breathing was abrupt as she whimpered. I held her as she expressed her sorrow, and I leaned my head closer to hers.

  I did not know what it was like to have parents who were consistently critical or expecting consistent chores to be fulfilled, but I did begin to understand my own deeper pain. Lillie had her parents, friends, and neighbors in the village—I had no one but her and the cold existence of the other Teraganes of my colony. I knew the pain of isolation. I knew at that moment that this was my last chance, for a while, to be close to someone who cared about me. I knew my time of isolation was about to begin. The harsh, freezing winter would leave me lonely, without Lillie, without tender love and kindness. I may not have had hundreds of chores or work to do, but perhaps the lack of those things is what made my life so miserable. Yet, she was also struggling—perhaps the life we could create together would be something in between—a life of balance.

  Tears welled in my eyes as Lillie’s sorrow collided with my own distressing emotions. Yet, holding her and feeling her warmth, regardless of the anxiety rising within my body, a sense of comfort began to settle in my heart. Bittersweet—yes, a bittersweet sensation overwhelmed me as we both endured our sorrow together in a warm embrace.

  “We’ll be fine,” Lillie eventually said and gently pushed me away. She wiped her dewy face with the end of her worn out cloak, and sniffled as she rubbed her nose. Her face was flushed, and her cheeks and nose were a deep crimson color. Her faded skin looked glossy, and her pointed ears alert, and her glistening green eyes darted as she avoided eye contact.

  “Will we?” I asked while wiping tears that seemingly escaped my eyes.

  “Oh, Sable,” she said. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be alright.”

  “If you say so.”

  “But—” She looked down and twisted her shoe against the blanket. “Thanks for holding me.” I came closer to her, placed my hand under her chin, and slowly lifted her head, and our eyes met.

  “Always.” She stared into my eyes for only a moment, then moved away from me, tucking her hair behind her ears as her face continued to beam its rosy complexion. She inhaled deeply, suggested that we create a fire and enjoy our last day before winter. I happily agreed, and only hoped to ignore the aching pain welling within my heart. I helped build the fire, cook two of the four fish I had given Lillie, and we spoke about some spring mushrooms we could go looking for in the forest together.

  “If I bring a pan, maybe we can cook some vegetables,” Lillie said while munching on the bread she had brought, apparently from her friend. “Ever eaten a potato?”

  “What’s a potato?” I asked while crunching on the fish bones. Lillie laughed, then began describing a tuber that grows underground, stating that its hard as an apple, but soft when cooked.

  “We call it an earth apple—I think you’d like eating potatoes.”

  “I like eating anything—with you.”

  Lillie’s cheeks flushed as she looked away, and I inched closer to her, allowing our sides to touch. I eyed her hands as she picked at certain tears of her faded green cloak, grumbling about needing a new one. I moved my hand behind her back, resting my weight on my arm, and moved my nose slightly close to her head. I breathed in the lovely scents of smoke, earth, and aromatic herbs I could only assume she used at home. Then, ever so slowly, I hovered my other hand over hers. But suddenly she leaned away, and began organizing the items she had brought me, and placed each one into my satchel.

  We continued to speak about simple terms, expectations of another winter, and, once again, I held back my anticipating plans of creating a way for us to live outside of our miserable lives. As the sun slowly moved behind the mountain, we started preparing for our fateful goodbyes. Lillie stayed until dusk, which, normally, she left long before the sun had completely set, but on that day, she waited until the sun was nearly out of sight. We cleared the fireplace, folded the blanket, packed our bags, and Lillie started walking towards the forest.

  “Sable,” she said after turning quickly back to me.

  “Yes?” I replied. The wind was blowing hard, sending a shiver throughout my body and a sharp pain in my ears. My hair bounced across my face, and my wings began to ache. While Lillie’s long hair twisted and twirled, her faded green eyes glistened in the fading sunlight.

  “I’ll see you in spring?”

  “When the air is warmer, the snow is melting, and the first snowdrops begin to bloom. I’ll be here.”

  “You’ll be alright, alone in the mountains?” She twisted her neck to view the mountain behind the cedar forest, but the cloudy sky made it impossible to even view the mountain range.

  “Yes, I will be alright,” I said. I wanted to stay with her. I wanted so much to beg her to come with me to the mountain. But I didn’t—at least, not this time.

  “Okay.” Her voice was low and sorrowful, and she kept her eyes slowly drifting around the scenery, perhaps taking it all in before leaving for her dark world as well.

  I hate winter. This is unbearable. Why must it be so dark and cold?

  “And you?” I asked. “Will you be alright?”

  “Of course. I’ll be fine,” she said with a forced smile, and her eyes lifted. “I always am. Since, you know, I’m a girl capable of accomplishing anything in spite of the burdens of her reality.” A grin crossed my face, but the cold wind rushing through the open area caused my whole body to rapidly shake.

  “That you are.” We stood in silence. Neither of us wanted to take the first step—neither wanted to leave.

  “See you in spring,” I finally said, holding back the choking feeling in my throat, for I really didn’t want to cry again, not while my last moments with Lillie still lingered with the fading sun.

  “When the first snowdrops bloom,” she replied, and I nodded while my hands at my side shook. I realized, it was not out of the cold air, but heightened emotions of saying goodbye.

  “Yes, when the first snowdrops bloom.” Then, without hesitation, Lillie walked up to me and wrapped her arms around me, this time, happily. I hugged her back, sliding my arms around her back, feeling the warmth of her body come onto mine. Her head came directly onto my chest, and I rested my head close to hers. I breathed in heavily, smelling her hair again, which permeated heavily with smoke and earth, and the strong herbs. Not like the Sage—no, these herbs smell floral—perhaps it was a type of flower?

  I wanted to keep Lillie in my arms forever, allowing the mysterious floral scents to fill my nostrils, but the darkness was coming, and the cold wind was causing my bones and wings to shake. The pain in my ear increased as the winds shifted. I wanted to beg her to come with me, but my instincts told me otherwise. I wanted so much to ignore the impending future of being alone.

  “Goodbye,” Lillie whispered, and, once again, pushed herself away from me. She then turned and ran away, disappearing into the dark forest, leaving me once again alone, but this time, my heart ached with the unbearable sensation I was dreading most of the year. My heart ached more than I had ever experienced before as I stood in the cold, observing the dark, looming forest. I imagined it like a monster, a type of evil creature that engulfed the love of my life every time, menacingly laughing at me, the helpless fool.

  Just wait…I will save Lillie. I will save her from this monster that mocks me and holds her hostage. I will save you, Lillie! Then, there will be no need to carry those burdens—we can run away from it all and no longer carry a single burden. We will cook and eat together, never separate, and live happily—forever.