Winter
They buried her under the cherry tree when the sun was blazing hot and the barking dogs were quiet from thirst. It was what she would have wanted.
Winter loved the sun, she loved its heat and warmth while her sister, Ava, was the complete opposite. Ava loved the rain, she loved the biting cold and the long winters. Pa like Winter had loved the sun. He had loved it for Winter's sake but he loved rain too because Ava loved it so.
Winter's tears choked her up, emotion swelled in her chest as she sat by the kitchen window, watching the branches and the dying leaves of the cherry tree dance in the hot wind. It had been three weeks since her Pa was slaughtered like a chicken and Ava took her place. Ava lied and Winter did not like that she had lied to save her life. But she was glad to be alive.
They had buried Ava under the cherry tree the very next morning of her death. In truth, Ma had done the burying and Winter had stood to the side, watching as her red nose mother carried Ava's dead body into the freshly dug grave. She did not interfere because she knew.
She knew that Ma was angry and that she had found someone to blame.
Pa was not buried like Ava. Ma called the baker who helped her burn Pa's body and store his ashes in a jar. Winter was locked in her room during this time.
On the eighth day after Pa and Ava died, Aunt Carol arrived, crying.
Aunt Carol was the only living sibling of Pa. Pa had nine brothers and three sisters growing up but all of them had died from illness. All of them except Aunt Carol and himself. She had heard the news of the death of her brother and niece from a market woman in Azai which was four towns away from where Winter lived. Ma apologized repeatedly. She had not been in the right state of mind and had forgotten to write to Aunt Carol. The moment Aunt Carol arrived, Ma left. Aunt Carol let Winter out of her room but she did not allow her to go outside or out of her sight.
Aunt Carol whistled as she hopped around the kitchen making lunch. Winter knew the tune she was whistling. She knew it very well. Ava used to hum it all the time. It was a song Ava had composed for Winter when she first turned seven. A gift to celebrate the fact that the third watch had not yet come for her and a vow to protect Winter for eternity.
"Little humming bird. You can not sing yet. If the hunters hear your voice, they'll shoot you down and pluck your wings. But I will keep you safe. When the storm is out and the sun's too hot when winter turns everything to ice, I will keep you safe. You can lean on me, yes, you can lean on me. I will keep you safe" Winter sung, watching the cherry as tears pricked her eyes.
"You remember the song," Aunt Carol cheered, dropping the wooden spoon in the stew and approaching Winter.
"She wrote it for me. It's my responsibility to remember," Winter replied, her eyes never straying from the cherry tree.
"You must miss her,"
"I do," Winter choked, allowing her tears to fall. She missed Ava and she missed Pa. If they were here, Ma would not have left, Ma would not have been hungry, Ma would have still loved her.
"It's a cruel world, my dear," Aunt Carol sighed, laying a comforting hand on Winter's shoulder. "Especially for people like you. It's insulting how you have to bear a law you did not make. We all bend under these laws that subdue us, break us." Aunt Carol's grip became painful.
Winter sniffled, turning around to face her father's sister, her aunt, Carol. Winter whimpered, her eyes went wide with fear at the darkness in Aunt Carol's blue eyes.
"We bend the knee and they break our backs," Aunt Carol drawled, staring out at the cherry tree. "We are not to blame for the disaster that led to the hunting of hybrids and tribrids and the establishment of the third watch that relentlessly pursues your kind but we endure the pain and those who can not...….."
Aunt Carol drew in a big breath, staring down at Winter as her lips lifted into a big smile that did not reach her eyes.
"You're scaring me," Winter swallowed, squirming under her aunt's painful hold but Aunt Carol held on tighter, digging her fingers into Winter's shoulders.
"In this realm, the weak, the prey, the hunted…..they are eaten alive and the hunters thrive," Aunt Carol's smile grew deadlier, revealing her fangs. "So I am going to ask you one question and I'm going to ask it only once. Are you the hunted or are you the hunter?"
Winter thought about it. That horrible day was engraved in her mind like a sigil. The king's guards, their swords ready to kill, to murder.
She could still hear the screams.
At night
During the day
At dawn
At sunset
She could still hear them.
The way her sister's voice was ripped out of her throat, the blood that coated the cherry blossom in the front yard, the way her Pa begged before his head went flying in one clean cut.
And then, she could see her mother's eyes. It was always the last thing she saw, the last thing she remembered after the rest—the look in her Ma's eyes.
"I should have never had you."
But whenever the thick, dark fog cleared from her head and the nightmarish memories of the blood her existence had spilt released her, she could only think of one thing.
Murdering the king.
Whatever Aunt Carol was suggesting, whatever she was offering, Winter was ready to take by force.
Winter met Aunt Carol's eyes with fury and determination. She placed her hand on her aunt's hand that was gripping her shoulder painfully and squeezed, digging her nails into it and drawing blood.
"I am the hunter,"