Harvest 8, 855
Buu shivered, drawing his cloak tighter around himself and shuffling close to the iron brazier and its dancing flames. He did his best to ignore the raised voices floating across the snowy ground. One of the Scarred Lake locals had scorned their warnings and gone out alone for firewood.
From the corner of his eye, Buu could see his uncle negotiating, hands raised in a placating gesture, motioning to Buu every now and again. He framed Buu’s idea to lead the grimm away as heroics — a grand gesture to save both the Red Birch and Scarred Lake villagers. It was a hard sell — Buu looked more like a sacrifice than a hero, shivering and small.
The others from Red Birch didn’t help, murmuring rumours to one another behind Uncle Kavir’s back. From what he overheard, two arguments prevailed: that Buu could control the grimm and used it as a tool of fear and destruction, or that he was a victim with bad luck, just like the rest of them. Either way, many looked forward to his departure. No one spoke unkindly to him, but they weren’t subtle either — a different kind of cruel.
Uncle Kavir finished his debate, shaking hands with the Scarred Lake elder before joining Buu, palms up to catch the heat of the flames. He scowled, huffing as he settled in.
“They are willing to lend you a few supplies and I’ll pay them back for it once the grimm is gone,” his uncle said at last. “Aru’s agreed to get you a bed and meals at the University until Waking, so you won’t get caught in the snow on your way back.”
Buu glanced up at the sky, where grey clouds smudged an otherwise brilliant blue. A little tension drained from his neck and shoulders. The snows would come in earnest soon, and he hadn’t even considered it. His uncle had always looked out for him, and even now, that hadn’t changed.
“So, I won’t see you until Waking?” Buu cringed inwardly at how childish he sounded. But then, he was a child, so perhaps his uncle wouldn’t notice.
Uncle Kavir put a hand across Buu’s shoulder, pulling him a little closer without looking at him. “When the weather permits, I will come visit.” His eyes shone, but he showed no other signs of distress. “Look, Buu… Make friends while you’re there, okay? Try to get on with the professors. This could be an opportunity for you.”
Buu must have shown his skepticism on his face.
His uncle glanced down at him and sighed deeply. Taking one knee, he held Buu by the shoulders and spoke slowly, being sure each word held weight: “We’ve been over this. You’re not ever going to be a woodsman. Or a farmer. Or a fisherman. Even doctors like Aru have to be able to hold down a patient and stay up all night when they’re needed. Your body can’t handle that.
“I know that you hate reading, but being a scholar or a scribe are your best choices. And if you can earn a place at the university, you’ll have a much more comfortable life than you would travelling between villages to write the odd letter or contract.”
Uncle Kavir paused, considering his next words. Buu studied his face: the downward curve of his mouth, the little line between his eyebrows, the bob of his throat as he swallowed. He’s the only person I have in the whole world, Buu shifted his weight, trying to breathe past the tightness in his chest. Am I the only person he has too?
Grown-ups talked to one another all the time. His uncle had friends and had done favours for just about everyone in Red Birch at one point or another. Buu had always assumed that his uncle had other people in his life, people like family, that he just didn’t bring to the house. But what if he had been as alone as Buu?
“You’ll do better there,” his uncle continued, oblivious to Buu’s observations, “so work hard to earn yourself a place. Okay?”
Buu nodded, hesitant to speak past the lump in his throat. Images of his uncle, all alone in a new village, surrounded by familiar strangers, pressed into his mind. His trepidation for his own journey, the grimm, and the university all faded, overcome by a more immediate concern for the man before him.
Without a word, Buu closed the distance to his uncle, reaching around the man’s tree-trunk chest and squeezing as hard as he could. He wanted to hug him hard enough that it would last them both all the way until Waking . After a moment of surprise, his uncle wrapped his sturdy, reliable arms around Buu, his familiar smell and comforting warmth briefly becoming Buu’s whole world.
“Shhh… it’ll be okay, my boy. Anaya’s light will shine on you and keep you safe,” his uncle hushed, stroking Buu’s hair.
Buu trembled, and all at once, the tears came. He didn’t sob, or leave trails of snot on his uncle’s cloak, but tears leaked in rivers down his face, leaving chilled lines that caught the wind.
“Do you want me to come with you?” his uncle murmured into Buu’s hair. “I probably wouldn’t be allowed to stay at the University but I could make the trip there with you.”
Buu did sob then. He wanted nothing more than to have his uncle’s help with the trek, with the grimm, and with the unwanted abilities he had stumbled into. But how could he explain what had happened? Would his uncle still want to support a murderer? Would the grimm find an opportunity to hurt him? Would he make it back to Scarred Lake before the snows came?
No. As frightened as Buu was to face the future alone, the thought of losing his uncle ached far more than the fear. He would have to grow up sometime, and as his uncle said, Anaya would keep him safe.
“No, that’s okay.” Buu stammered. “I’ll be alright.”