Bringer of Winter- a M/M/M Epic Fantasy Romance

7- Orphans

URIAH—

Uriah ran as fast as she could, but soon her breathing whistled through her teeth with each painful step. She could feel that she had two— no— three broken ribs, her collarbone was cracked if not shattered completely, and her left eye was already so swollen she couldn't see past the blurry slit it still allowed.

Swiping at the blood that dripped from her mouth she pushed herself from from tree to tree, using the huge trunks as supports, as she limped dumbly, trying desperately to get to her home before she passed out again. She couldn't let herself fall unconscious in the middle of this dangerous forest with the men of the town still on the lookout for her.

Tears poured from both eyes, squeezing out of her left like pus from the wound, as she felt her chest clench and her hands shaking uncontrollably. Ever since she had first moved to this small town on the outskirts of Pryn, she had been tolerated but never welcomed. The Northmen, so close as to be neighbors, were feared and hated, and though the Nelek only guessed at what she was, she knew that deep down they knew of her heritage. They could sense her shay'ah, even if unconsciously, and the knowledge she possessed of the land.

She was alone and unwanted, as she had been her entire life. The only bright spot in her seemingly unneeded existence was her brother, and she hadn't seen him in years— since he had left to travel the world, to run away from her, her mother, and their past. To run from the dirty secret that she had learned she was only after her brother's departure.

"Uri?" a deep, soft voice called, familiar and forcing memories to flash behind her eyes. Nostalgic, warm memories, from before she was told the truth of her conception, her birth, and her mother's hatred of her own daughter.

"Little Uri, you'll never get a Nelek man if you can't learn to wear a dress," Heath laughed, winking down at her from the high tree he had climbed up into. Uriah wasn't able to follow for the tight chemise that blocked any flexibility she had.

"Maybe I don't wanna Nelek man. Maybe I want a Nibean like you, brother. Why can't I?"

Something crossed Heath's eyes at her words, a spark she would never forget— because it was the first time, if not the only, she saw his hatred for her so visible.

"You are fit for a Nelek man, Uriah."

Something in the way he said it, Uriah knew, even then as such a young child, that it was an insult, like his teasing. He said it in the way he joked with her that her hair was dirty or that she had too many freckles to be pretty. And for the first time, but not the last by far, she wondered why he hated her so much.

"Uri?" the voice rang again, sounding so much like Uriah's memory that for a moment she wondered which was real: the smiling, laughing boy in the trees, or the heated, hateful man who screamed at her that she was dirty before disappearing and not even returning for their mother's funeral. "Oh gods, Uriah!"

Rough hands grabbed at her upper arms and shook her until she looked up into huge, terrified and hateful eyes.

"Heath?" she murmured, still unsure if the dream had continued or if her brother really was beside her, glaring at her with a frenzied look in his eyes and... a child at his feet?

Uriah knew that she was dreaming once she saw the child. The only child Heath ever tolerated was her, and she was family; she was blood. He hated children, and Uriah knew he didn't have any, would likely never have any due to his attraction to men rather than women, so what was that girl doing with him?

"Come, Uri," Heath murmured soothingly, his strong arms suddenly around her, holding her tightly to his chest. "Rest. You're safe now, sister. I'll protect you now. Sleep, little Uri."