home

The winter had been harsh, beginning early and fierce, with bitter frosts which killed the last harvest of the fall, damaged the rosalia fields, and withered the forage. The wild pokemon felt it too, and grew aggressive, protective of what little food remained. 

Illness swept through their ranks and weakened them, and into the depths of the season it persisted.

The appearance of the hermetic Coastlands Warden now was an anxious one, as the villagers feared news of the worst.

The moment Seyla heard the call, she darted out ahead of her mother to see Shiro. Her older brother, all but a stranger to her, but with the affectionate bond of blood relation.

Instead of bearing grave news, Shiro’s stantler mount was laden with bushels of forage and fish. He stood, handing them out to the villagers to gather and add to the stores. Despite the food he handed out, he looked lean and weary himself.

“Shiro!” Seyla ran up to him, and wrapped her arms around his middle in a hug. He lay a hand on her head. “Seyla,” he said. “Have you been well?”

She looked up at him, chin resting on his chest, and nodded. “Mh-hm. Mother and father too.”

“Good.” He replied, looking up to spot his mother hobbling out of her home, shadowed by his father.

“You took your time,” his mother said, pursing her wrinkled lips in a severe expression. “You should have come sooner, if food is this abundant on the coast.”

“It isn’t.” Shiro said, and Seyla heard an edge to his tone. He always sounded angry when he spoke with mother. “It took me all season to gather this much.”

Mother sniffed, tilting her chin up. “You could have told us. At least that you were helping.”

“Now, Lia…” Father tried to console her, pulling her away towards the food that Shiro had brought. She would not be deterred.

“You never visit,” she continued. “And look at you, filthy child, you look like you were raised by wild pokemon.”

“I have my duties as Warden to attend to, mother.” Shiro said, his voice level, but Seyla could tell he had no patience for this conversation.

“Your duties include us. Your family and your village.”

“I am aware.” Shiro turned his gaze to his stantler, seeing that the last of the bushels had been removed. “Pardon me. I need to speak with the village head.”

He turned away abruptly and mother tried to follow, though father caught her arm. “Don’t turn your back on me, you disrespectful whelp-”

“Lia, please.” Father murmured urgently, trying again to calm her.

Family or no, Shiro earned the title of Warden- Yet mother hardly seemed to acknowledge it. She held the other Wardens in high regard- But not her own son.

Seyla fidgeted, mother’s outburst having caught the attention of the other villagers. She felt too antsy to return to her weaving, and elected to follow Shiro- Even though she knew well enough that she wasn’t supposed to. 

She caught up to him, leaning against his arm as he walked. She looked up at him, almost wanting to apologize. He kept walking, slowing to make pace with her but otherwise failing to acknowledge her. His expression looked neutral, or as close to neutral as his fierce resting expression could be.

“Shiro?”

“Mm?”

“Are you angry at mother?”

Shiro paused, looking down at her. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re always so harsh when you talk to her.”

Shiro sighed, and placed a hand on her head again. “Don’t worry about that, Seyla. It can’t be helped.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Mother and I need space from each other, but she doesn’t understand that.”

“Is that why you never visit?”

“No. As I said, I have my duties in the Coastlands. You should go eat, Seyla.”

He pat her head and turned away, walking up to the home of the village leader.