Birddddy

I’M GOING TO DIE out here. Snow—the soft, fluffy kind that melts on contact—seeps between my bare toes as I stumble blindly through the dense forest. My lungs are pumping air faster than my legs can make ground, but I don’t slow. I don’t stop. My ragged dress swishes against my busted up knees, mopping up some of the watery blood running in rivulets down my calves. I’ve lost count of how many times I tripped and fell and got up again, the terrain as foreign to me as it is dangerous.

And seemingly never-ending.With my heart hammering against my rib cage, it’s nearly impossible to hear anything over my thundering pulse. The air feels like it’s thinning and I can’t catch my breath, my vision squeezing into tiny pin-pricks as the little holes burned into my retinas begin to fade, finally adjusting to being outside. The sun doesn’t even seem to be out, and yet it’s so bright, so glaring. Like the world’s been lit up from the inside out, coming from all directions, and with nowhere to escape it. Just keep going, I tell myself. Just a bit farther. Somewhere, a crow caws, followed by a loud whoop! Terror grips me, and I freeze, halting in place. Legs spread, knees wobbling, arms thrown out at my sides as I swing my head every which way, wildly looking about. Pine trees the size of which I’ve never seen before surround me from all sides, towering so high they nearly blot out the snow-swollen gray sky. I can’t have been out here long, but time doesn’t seem to want to work the way it should these days. Seconds feel like hours, and hours feel like years… And then other times, like now, a blink is an entire lifetime. Leaves rustle above me. Ca-caw! I suck in a sharp breath, and I run. My vision continues to tunnel, setting a path for me to follow as I grip branches and climb hastily over the gnarled roots hiding beneath the snow. I’m aware of the deep ache that has taken up residence in my toes, spreading up my calves, sinking into my bones. Even my nipples hurt, practically burning, the thin scrap of lace and silk dragging over my pebbled skin like a serrated knife’s edge every time I move.If I knew it was winter… I shake off the thought. It’s not like that would’ve stopped me. Leaves rustle louder now, or maybe it’s just my heart pounding blood through my hollow, exhausted body, drowning out everything else. Fighting to bring life back into it, even if it’s just to carry me closer to death. The rushing in my ears grows louder and louder, as I run faster and faster, knowing, somehow, my time is running out. And all I can think is, all I can pray is— Please. More whooping and cawing sounds from somewhere behind me, closer now than they were before. A branch snaps. Footsteps thunder closer. A frustrated, guttural whimper climbs up my throat, breaching from my lips, as I grab the thick base of a tree, and all but catapult myself forward. I’m choking on air now, fingers trembling, knees buckling, eyes stinging. In my periphery, wings flap. Black and far too big to belong to a mere bird. Not… real… Even my thoughts are slowing. Another sound erupts from me, and I lunge forward, and then— There, a voice gasps in my head. A break in the trees. The burning in my eyes intensifies as I draw on what little energy I have left and throw myself toward the blinding white light, reaching out like it could grab hold of me and carry me away from this place. Carry me home. I’m running, stumbling, throwing myself forward. Faster, faster, so close—Snow and dirt kick up next to me as I skid to a sudden stop, arms windmilling at my sides. My eyes bulge as I take in the massive ravine below, my body careening forward. No— A strong arm swoops around my midsection at the last possible second, so sudden and forceful, it nearly knocks the air out of me. My long, straggly hair whips past my face as I flop forward, held back by nothing more than rigid muscle, as I’m yanked back from the ledge. I don’t even realize I’ve started kicking out and clawing at the arm holding me hostage until a deep, slightly accented voice barks, “Enough!” followed by a string of unintelligible Russian. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s Russian. I ignore him, bucking like I could wiggle my way free. Sounds erupt from me that are more animalistic than human, but I can’t find it in me to care. A low, drawn-out whistle sounds from somewhere behind us, followed by someone saying, “That was close.” The man holding me huffs, all but dragging me away from the cliff’s edge. There’s still a loud rushing in my ears as I kick and grunt protests, but it sounds less muffled and more like the angry rush of water dozens of feet below us, crashing through the rocks and ice. “Let. Me. Go!” I grit out, my voice thick and raspy from a combination of disuse and dehydration and desperation. The man actually listens, tossing me unceremoniously on the hard, snowy, muddy ground. I shakily push to a stand, chest heaving, arms spread out at my sides, as I dart my gaze around, looking for a way out. My long, knotted hair whipsaround, slapping my frozen cheeks like little ropes, half frozen themselves. Three figures surround me, the same ones who visited me in my cell earlier. Two boys around my age, almost mirror images of each other. Twins. And him. My gaze drifts and lingers on the man who just saved me from certain death. Even at the thought, I cringe, wrinkling my nose. I pivot side to side, half-turning in a stuttered circle so as not to turn my back on any of them. But all the while, I keep my gaze fastened to his. Corvin, I remember from a distant, fuzzier time. That’s his name. Briefly, my mind is overtaken by images of tall, dense shrubbery, white blossoms, and twinkling fairy lights. Of suited men, and far-off classical music warring with the gentle lap of waves. The memory tastes of sea salt. And fear. My knees start to buckle, and I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, shaking it off. There is only winter here. A harsh, unforgiving winter. Even my fear tastes muted now, like it’s been frozen right along with my blood and dirtcrusted toes. Someone clucks their tongue a couple times, then in a low, guttural voice, says, “Thought you could just fly away, did you?” My eyes flash open to collide with a set of cold, unimpressed, steel-gray eyes, and again, I’m thrown back to when I first saw that harsh, too-perfect face. This time, the memory tastes of blood. My teeth chatter lightly despite my best efforts to put a clamp on it; the tendons in my neck straining as I clench my entire body. “Fuck you,” Imanage to bite out harshly. Corvin’s eye twitches, but otherwise, he remains as stoic as ever. Coldness radiates from him degrees cooler than the air trying to steal my breath. Fucking bastard. Someone chuckles behind me, and I tense, holding back a flinch. “Hear that, Corvin? Pretty sure that was an invitation.” Unlike Corvin, this guy’s voice is softer, lighter, like there’s a joke to be found in each drawled utterance. While I can’t say he doesn’t have an accent, it’s definitely not as identifiable as their ringleader’s. Far more subtle, easy to miss, and impossible to pinpoint its origin. Definitely not Russian though. Corvin cocks his head. His dark brown hair is short but looks to be a little longer on top, where it’s been combed back. His face is smoothly shaven, drawing stark attention to a jawline that could cut diamonds—a startling contrast to his full pink lips. I hate that I notice this about him, but it’s impossible to ignore. No wonder he’s able to get away with what he does. His piercing gray eyes remain steady on mine. “That what you want, Ptichka?” I can no longer tell if I’m shaking from the cold or from anger. “No,” I spit. This time, it’s his mouth that twitches. He takes a step forward, so I take one back. He does it again, and I do the same. It’s like we’re waltzing without touching, following some rhythm only we know, yet can’t hear.More snickering reaches my ears, and I whip my head around when I realize just how close it sounds. The only twin I’ve heard speak so far—the one with a long, jagged scar down his left cheek and the laid-back drawl—lifts a hand and wiggles his fingers at me in a wave. “Hi there,” he purrs. Behind him, his brother ducks his head, watching us through thick, dark lashes, his brown eyes hard and unreadable. I don’t mistake the silent warning there though. I stumble back, only to crash into a broad, solid chest. This time, Corvin doesn’t brace an arm around me to try to restrain me. He simply stands there, cold and unmoving, as I whip around to face him once more. The two of them close in on either side of me. “S-stop,” I stutter out, clenching my fists as I desperately try to hang on to my anger. My eyes burn as I ping-pong my gaze between the two, taking in their contrasting frames. Where Corvin is a tall, broad, looming figure, towering over me by half a foot, the twins are closer to my height of 5’5”. They’re on the leaner side too, with long, graceful necks and narrow features. And they’re young. Young like me—teenagers. Unlike Corvin, who looks to be in his mid-twenties. They all have dark hair—their only commonality, it would seem, at least on the surface—and dark eyes of varying shades. Corvin’s, a steel-gray, and the twins’, a murky brown. And while I wouldn’t go so far as to say their skin is pale, their complexions seem to be almost washed out. Like they’ve been deprived of the sun; the twins especially. Somewhere overhead, leaves and pine needles rustle loudly as several crows burst free, swooping over the ravine. Screeches fill the air, echoingoff the cliff’s edge, and Corvin’s mouth does that twitching thing again, prompting another shudder to roll down my spine. Instinct has me facing him head-on rather than the boy with the jagged scar down his face. Somehow, I just know who the bigger threat is here. “Scared?” Corvin whispers, eyes hooded as they drop to my lips. I try to force a swallow, but the shivers that have taken over my entire body are making it impossible. “P-p-please,” I find myself saying. My voice cracks with a whimper, and I hate it. Hate that I’m showing them any kind of weakness. But I’m past the point of caring. I just want to go home. He lowers his chin, and he says softly, “Ezio,” still not taking his gaze off mine, “I think it’s high time we show our new little pet where begging gets you around here, yes?” I still, and then I try to straighten my spine and pull my shoulders back, but all it does is shrink the space even further. Now Ezio is pressed right against me, his front to my back. He’s somehow looming over my shoulder despite only having a couple inches over me. He hangs his head forward, his shoulder-length brown hair curtaining around us, the ends teasing my bare shoulder where my dress has ripped, nearly hanging off me. Hands come around my waist, long fingers stretching around and nearly meeting in the middle. I’ve always been on the thinner side, but this… this is too much. The implication has my stomach sinking like a rock. “H-how long…?” My voice is near soundless, cracking, before fading off completely. A dark brow arches slightly. “Does it matter?” My face feels like it’s breaking, shattering, where tears have started to freeze to my face. I want to tell him, Of course it matters, you asshole. Ofcourse it fucking matters! But all that comes out is a pathetic little whine, almost a sob, but not quite. “She’s freezing,” Ezio says in a quiet, unreadable tone right next to my ear. Corvin nods shortly. “That she is.” My gaze drifts just past him, seeking out that wide open space where I now know a cliff juts out, breaking off into a deep, deadly ravine. It was almost over, I can’t help but think sadly, realizing just how screwed I am now that they’ve caught me. Something tells me that was my only ticket out of here, and I’m not about to get another anytime soon. Corvin inhales deeply, his chest rising fully before dropping with a gust of air over my scalp. Unlike me, he’s dressed for this weather in a fitted black leather jacket that’s zipped up to his neck. Probably not the warmest choice, but then again, he’s not the one being starved down to the bone. Throat thick with tears, I say, “If you’re g-gonna k-kill me, j-ju-just d-do it-t-t.” At first, he doesn’t say anything. Even Ezio is pointedly silent behind me, his hands an unwanted source of warmth around my middle. I catch myself just as I start to press into it, sucking in a sharp breath, trying to make myself smaller. He chuckles like he knows exactly what I’m doing. Chilly fingers find my chin, lifting it so I can meet Corvin’s cold gaze. “Now why would we do something like that?” I grit down on my molars, biting back a fresh wave of shivers, and rip my head away, glaring at some unseen spot beyond him. He huffs, almost like he wants to laugh, but his demeanor remains flat and unaffected.“So feisty,” Ezio rumbles. I can hear the smile in his voice. I squirm, but it’s no use. Whatever strength got me this far isn’t so much as waning, but winking out completely, there and gone before I can even hope to scrounge for any scraps. Corvin says something in what I’m now certain is Russian, and Ezio snickers against my neck, his breath warm, and smelling of coffee and something sweeter. My attempt to pull away is pathetic at best, prompting him to hold me even closer. With some of the chill warded off by their bodies, exhaustion is quick to settle in. I feel heavy, weighed down in a way that belies my current emaciated state. I force my tired eyes up as Ezio holds me upright, keeping me from sinking to the cold, hard ground. Corvin’s brow knits, lips pursing. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but whatever it is, is interrupted by a long, resounding vibration that echoes through the trees, reverberating off the jagged cliffside below. Several more vibrations closely follow. Is that… Are those church bells? I feel my face try to scrunch up with confusion. It falls flat, either from the cold or the exhaustion. I’m fading fast. Ezio sighs, and Corvin steps back. “Dinner time,” is all he says. “We’ll revisit this later.” I’m honestly surprised my stomach doesn’t grumble at his announcement. Then again, I can’t even remember the last time my stomach did grumble. When it registers that Ezio is handing me over to Corvin, I finally snap out of my daze.No!” I gasp more than yell. My hands are sluggish as I bat at him, trying to break free from his ironclad hold. “N-no!” Don’t take me back, please don’t make me go back. I think of my cell, of that cold, dark place with hardly any light. I think of the stone walls surrounding me and the thin cot on the floor I’ve woken up on too many times to count. I plead and scream, or at least, I try to scream. But it’s all garbled and broken—airy and high-pitched. I don’t sound human. I don’t even feel human anymore. Corvin mutters something, and then he’s lifting me by the waist, throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. My upper body hangs over his back as he hooks his arms around the backs of my thighs, just under my ass. My dress has ridden up, exposing me to the frigid air, but I hardly notice. Stark, blinding fear like nothing I’ve ever felt before rushes through my veins, nearly whiting out my vision, and I claw pathetically at his back. He says something, but I’m too far gone to even tell if it’s English or Russian. Lifting my head, I watch through blurred vision as the twins come together just before me, standing shoulder to shoulder, in some weird, freaky synchronized movement. Ezio is no longer smiling. If it wasn’t for his scar and his slightly longer hair, I wouldn’t be able to tell the two apart. They’re even dressed alike, in dark gray wool coats, black jeans, and black, heavy-duty boots. “Please,” I whimper, my neck tendons straining as I try to keep my head up. My filthy hair cascades down past my face, swinging all around in thick, wet ropes that are half-frozen. Ezio glances down while his brother stares right through me.

A sob works its way up my throat. “Aquillus,” Corvin says simply. I blink, and then he’s there. The quiet twin. The one with the vacant eyes that are far more terrifying than Corvin’s cold, merciless gray ones. My mouth opens as our gazes connect, but I realize it’s too late. Just as quickly as he moved toward me does his hand come up. Something metallic glints in the corner of my eye, and then pain—sharp and quick in my upper arm. My fingers jolt as a shocking sensation radiates up to my neck and down my spine, bringing a quiet yelp from my lips. A needle. He steps back just as the world around me dims, tilting, and the pain grows distant. The whooshing is back, and I swear I hear wings flapping just over my shoulder. Blackness swoops in, curling over my vision, shrinking it down into nothing. I try to speak, but I’m already gone.