That wasn’t the case when he cracked open the picture book and bit his bottom lip in panic. There was no husky voice. No story about a puppy finding his parents. Instead, there was a stutter and a pause and an attempt at sewing together the letters we’d learned into words we hadn’t.
It’d been the first time I felt sorry for him. The first time my juvenile heart had the ability to think of him as hurting or helpless and not the invincible, magical Ren I adored.
It made me love him even more.
That night was the first night of many when we stayed up late and slowly learned how to read and not just parrot what the kid programs tried to teach.
And as we learned to read, we took turns stumbling over simple sentences until one of us would smooth it out and repeat it again and again until it was as effortless as speaking.
And finally, the third memory is a strange one. You’ll think me mad for even mentioning it, but something about that night firmly fixed Ren as not just my father-figure and brother, but also my idol.
An invincible, immortal idol who I never ever wanted to be away from.
That first winter at Polcart Farm was bad. The icy freeze taught us that we might be able to live in the wild in summer but when the snow hit…unless we were able to grow fur and hibernate, we would die. That became even more apparent when I’d fallen sick with a simple cold the night we’d found the farm.
Due to the icy temperatures and my young age, it took weeks for me to come right, even with medicine Ren stole from the local pharmacy. He couldn’t read the label so who knew if what he poured down my throat was the right dosage or the even correct drug, but he did his best, and I survived.
For days, he fed me stolen soup and cuddled me close so I could benefit from his body heat. Whenever I woke, he was ready with warm milk, medicine, and a story or two about life on a farm with sixteen children.
He didn’t leave my side for longer than a few minutes, and when my fever finally broke and my chest no longer rattled with cough, he bundled me up in every clothing I had then carried me outside wrapped in the sleeping bag.
Snow covered everything, muffling sound and sight and senses. We could’ve been in a world completely uninhabited. We could’ve been the only two creatures alive, and I wouldn’t have been happier because the boy who was my everything held me close and showed me the farm we’d borrowed.
He murmured how in spring he’d plant vegetables so we’d never have to risk getting caught stealing. He’d pointed out snow-softened bric-a-brac and said he’d transform rubbish into furniture and make us a home for as long as it took for me to grow strong enough so I was never sick again.
Like I said, that first winter was hard.
But the third winter at Polcart Farm was worse.
The fire never seemed to warm us, the mattress stayed damp from chill, the thrill of TV and learning—when we had electricity from meagre sunlight—was muted under the very real need to stay alive and not freeze to death.
One night, a blizzard blew so hard a window in one of the bedrooms shattered, spilling snow flurries all over the floor. I followed Ren upstairs, needing to be near him but trying to stay out of his way so he could fix it.
“I have to go to the barn to get wood and nails.” He brushed past me, stomping in the boots that’d become too small for him and shrugging into his jacket.
“I’m coming too.” I clattered down the stairs behind him, yanking on his beanie and wrapping his scarf around my tiny neck.
He grabbed me by the scruff as I went to dart past him into the swirling snow. “You’re staying here, Della Ribbon.”
“Nuh-uh. I’ll help.”
“You’ll help by staying out of the cold.”
“It’s cold in here.” I pouted. “No different.”
“Della.” He growled. “Don’t argue. You know you won’t win.” The familiar angry light in his eyes pleased me. I enjoyed annoying him because it made him focus more on me than the many tasks and chores around the house.
Nodding once, I backed over the threshold and watched him vanish outside amongst eerie silver shadows and crunchy snow. My plan was to wait until he was too far away to throw me back into the house, then chase after him.
That was before a loud bellow echoed across the pristine white. My heart kicked and my little legs charged down the porch steps after him, tripping in the snow. “Ren!”
I fell splat on my face, scrambling out of freezing flakes to come face to face with a black and white monster. “Ren! Ren! Ren!”