Page 75 of Beastkin
“Your parents never tore it down,” I said, amazement coloring my voice.
“Dad wanted to,” Karrick admitted, ducking through the larger entrance. “But Mom wouldn’t let him. She said maybe someday you’d come back and want to see it.”
My chest tightened with emotion. His mother had kept our childhood fort intact for over a decade, hoping I’d return. The thought made my eyes burn with unshed tears.
I followed him inside, marveling at how cramped it felt now that we were both full-grown. Karrick had to hunch over significantly, his broad shoulders nearly touching the walls on either side. But somehow it still felt magical, like stepping back in time.
“We spent so many hours in here,” I murmured, settling onto one of the old crates. It creaked ominously under my weight but held. “Planning adventures, telling stories...”
“You used to practice your magic in here,” Karrick said, settling beside me despite the tight quarters. “Little flames dancing in your palms while you made up elaborate tales about fire spirits and dragons finding their firebreath.”
Another memory surfaced, this one so clear it took my breath away. Me at ten years old, conjuring tiny flames while Karrick watched in fascination, his young face lit by the golden glow. The way he’d clap and cheer like I was performing real and exquisite magic, not just the basic spells any witch child could manage.
“You always made me feel so special,” I said softly. “Like my magic was the most amazing thing in the world.”
“It was,” he replied without hesitation. “It still is.”
The fort felt warmer suddenly, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the shelter or from Karrick’s proximity. He shifted closer, and I found myself pressed against his side, surrounded by his familiar scent and warmth.
“There’s something else,” he said, his voice taking on that nervous edge again. “Something I hid here before your family moved away.”
My curiosity piqued as I watched him reach toward a corner of the fort where the branches formed a natural pocket. His large fingers worked carefully, and after a moment he pulled out something small wrapped in what looked like an old handkerchief.
“I was going to give this to you,” he said, his ears flattening slightly with embarrassment. “The day before you left. But then your parents... well, you were gone before I got the chance.”
He unwrapped the cloth carefully, revealing a small carved figure. It was clearly handmade, rough around the edges but crafted with obvious care. A tiny phoenix, its wings spread wide, carved from what looked like a piece of cedar.
“You made this?” I asked, taking it from his massive palm with trembling fingers.
“Dad helped,” he admitted, his cheeks darkening with a blush. “But I did most of it. I wanted you to have something to remember me by if I ever left.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Turns out, you were the one who left first.”
I cradled the small wooden phoenix in my palm, feeling the weight of childhood promises and lost time. The craftsmanship wasrough, clearly made by younger hands, but I could feel the love that had gone into every cut and scrape.
“Karrick,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “This is beautiful.”
“It’s nothing special,” he mumbled, though I could feel his pleasure at my reaction humming through our bond. “Just a kid’s carving.”
I leaned against him, resting my head on his massive shoulder. “It’s perfect. Thank you for keeping it all these years.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the winter light filtering through the branches of our childhood fort, creating dappled patterns on the ground. Outside, snow began to fall again, soft flakes drifting past the entrance.
“I want to show you something too,” I said suddenly, straightening up. I held the wooden phoenix in my palm and concentrated, calling forth the smallest spark of my magic. Fire bloomed from my fingertips, surrounding the carving but not burning it.
The flame took shape, forming a miniature phoenix of pure fire that danced around the wooden one. It was delicate work, controlling the fire with such precision, but I’d grown so much stronger since our encounter with my parents thanks to our bond.
Karrick watched, mesmerized, as the fire phoenix spread its wings above my palm, casting a warm glow across his face. “That’s amazing,” he breathed.
With a gentle exhale, I let the fire dissipate, leaving only the wooden carving behind. “Consider it enchanted now,” I told him with a smile. “A little piece of both of us. Now it’ll never rot or split or erode. It’ll just exist, like our bond,forever.”
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine in that intimate way he did when words failed him. I felt his emotions through our bond, love, gratitude, and a fierce protectiveness that made my heart swell.
“We should head back soon,” he murmured, though he made no move to leave. “Mom will have dinner ready.”
“Five more minutes,” I said, setting the phoenix carving carefully on a flat stone near the wall. “I want to make a new memory here.”
I shifted on the crate, turning to face him fully. In the cramped space, this meant practically climbing into his lap, my knees on either side of his massive thighs. His hands immediately found my hips, steadying me as I settled against him.
“What kind of memory?” he asked, his voice dropping to that rough rumble that never failed to send shivers down my spine.