I'll See You Again

Annarey blinked. Not a quick, unconscious one, but slow and purposeful. She almost hoped to see something other than the snowy woods she stood in when she opened them again.

Behind the backs of her lids, she saw a day in December 2019: a wolf, sitting on the crispy white ground, and herself, crouched by it. Shaina.

She had nestled her hand in the soft crest of fur right between Shaina's ears as the small, falling flakes began to grow larger and stream down faster.

"Don't be sad," Shaina had said. "We'll see each other again someday."

The memory flashed by in a second and Annarey opened her eyes. There was still nothing but the librarian-like evergreens and the frozen lake in front of her, except now it looked blurry. The ripples in her vision cleared up as warm droplets fell on her icy cheeks.

She drew a shaky breath. Everything around her was peaceful and cold. It didn't need her company, and it didn't want it either. But Annarey liked the coldness of the woods, because she was just as cold. Or at least since Shaina left.

She walked to the foot of the evergreen with the scratched up bark at the bottom. Crouching down, she pressed her forehead to its trunk and fingered the snow at her feet. She still remembered waking up here, confused, alone, and freezing. She had been only four years old, but the memory was sharp and clear in her mind.

Her clothes had been soaked through by the snow. She had tried to prop herself up on her elbow, but her arm was numbed by the cold. "Mama? Papa?" she had called into the silence. She couldn't think why she was out here, and not warm in her tiny, rickety bed in their apartment that always smelled of liquor and cigarettes. Mama and Papa had gone out most nights, but there was usually someone else sent to take care of her.

Then there had been a wolf. A big, gray wolf, with bright, amber eyes. Annarey had asked the wolf where she was - the wolf told her in a wood about a hundred miles away from Washington, D.C. Washington, D.C., she had thought. That name registered. That was home. How had she ended up here?

"My name is Shaina Glim, little one," the wolf had said. "And what is yours?"

"Annarey Taylor," she had said - except she had probably said something more like "Annaway Taywor".

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know." Her lip had quivered and her body trembled. She had been frightened, but no longer alone.

She stood up from the tree. She thought she could just make out the thumping footsteps of the pack over the muted whooshing of the snowfall. She bit her lip as her stomach grumbled. There was hot stew waiting for her in her small, comfortable house, but she didn't want to go back. The snow called her outside every time it fell.

It reminded Annarey of herself. Cast out from her family like snow was cast out from the clouds. Her parents had carried the title of wizards, but were really only drunk fools who had forgotten what it meant to work hard and instead turned to a life of constant highs. They couldn't carry the responsibility of raising a daughter, so they abandoned her, left her to the woods.

She didn’t care about them anymore. To her, they were not her parents.

Annarey walked closer to the lake. It creaked and moaned as she looked at it. It wasn't skating time yet; she could see the current moving in some places underneath the gray ice. She pictured an early winter afternoon eleven years ago.

Shaina had just bought her a pair of ice skates. They were white and simple, strapped up with golden buckles.

"Eight years old is a good age for any kid to learn to skate," she had said with a grin.

"Thanks, Mom!" She had eagerly put the skates on and tentatively wobbled towards the edge of the lake.

"Now remember, only walk out onto the ice if it looks clear and blue, and never if it looks gray or black, or if it has cracks."

The lake had been bright blue, with a fine white dusting of snow over the top. The cold had bit at her nose and hands, making them red and numb. Shaina had gone first, sliding out onto the ice on her paws.

The wind had been sharp and fresh on her face as she shuffled, fell, and eventually glided her way across the lake with her mother.

The thin, dark ice in front of Annarey came into focus again. Skating with her mom had always been her favorite winter pastime.

It had been three days now since the news had reached her. A little slip of paper, folded up and handed to her by a man in an army uniform with a cap. He'd given her a solemn nod and walked off.

Shaina Glim, killed in action, January 22nd, 2020.

There had been no tears at first. Only a gaping hole that widened quickly inside her chest, hollow, suffocating. This isn't happening, she'd told herself. It isn't real.

Suddenly the ink on the note had been smudged with droplets of water. Where they had come from, she hadn't known. All she had known was that the world was spinning underneath her feet and her heart was pounding, her hands were sweating, shaking. A few moments later she had realized she was screaming. There was no one around, so she had yelled at the trees and the snow for the answer to her question, "WHY?"

Her chest had heaved as loud, overlapping thoughts raced into her head all at once. She hadn't been there when her mother died. She hadn't enlisted in the army, either, to fight by her side. She was the only friend she had ever known. Why was there even a war in the first place? Why did her mother have to go? What would she do now? She would never look into her mother's amber eyes ever again.

Now, as Annarey stood in front of the lake, the empty hole inside her chest had engulfed her entire body. She hadn't eaten or drank for those three days. The only person who'd ever loved her was dead. She would give anything to see her again.

Shaina was safe and happy in Welkin, she knew. She thought of her warm embrace, the feel of her thick, soft fur covering her when she threw her arms around her, or when she slept at her mother's side through cold nights.

She looked up at the clear, bright winter sky. Her mother might be watching her right now.

Her eyes fell back down to the lake. Its creaks and snaps echoed throughout the clearing. For years now, she'd looked at the lake at this point and immediately read danger. One or two steps and she'd fall right through.

She thought of the stew back in her cottage. She hadn't made it - another one of the wolves had, insisting that she eat. She imagined sitting down to the beautiful wooden table she had carved herself, made for two, to eat a scalding bowl of tasteless nothing by herself, not made by her mother's excellent paws.

She imagined seeing her mother again. She'd run to her, throw her arms around her neck and bury her head right by her ears. She'd tell her that she had been right when she said they'd see each other again. "I fulfilled your promise, Mom," she'd say, every memory of them etched across her smile.

Annarey smiled at the thought. It was bright, hopeful - a light at the end of the tunnel.

She took a deep breath and looked around at the snow and the woods where she had grown up one last time. She walked up to the edge of the lake, looking at its cracked surface. A shiver ran through her spine.

She slowly set one foot on the ice. Then both feet.

Her body went crashing through. Soon, she'd be with her mother again.