Everything felt wrong about the empty chair across from me. It didn’t matter whether weeks or months or decades went by—for as long as I lived, I’d never be convinced Sang deserved what had happened to him. 

I made sure not to linger on those thoughts, or rather, my brother’s chair for very much longer. But it was hard—hard for my eyes to not wander, for now It was only Mother and I, and what should’ve still been Sang’s spot only marked as a cruel reminder of his fate.

“Are you not going to finish breakfast?” Mother said next to me. It wasn’t until then I realized I’d been spacing. Chin in palm, I stared down at my stew, idly stirring floating chunks of deer meat. Am I going to finish eating? A simple question, yet I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. I said nothing. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still troubled about your brother’s funeral.” 

Instantly, my teeth clenched, the muscles in my fingers drawing taut.

It was hard, but still I said nothing. 

But Mother only added to the ever-growing fire. "I understand, but the time for mourning has passed. You must let go.”

I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose, trying to smother the venomous thoughts that ran through my head before they could become words— before I said something I’d regret. Still, it was impossible for me to hold my peace completely. I said, “he was my brother. . . . . ”

Truly, Mother acted as though Sang had been a mere pet that died after only a few days with it. Those were times where you grieved a little and moved on, because there wasn’t really anything to miss.

But you mourn for your son. Regardless of how many hours or days you spent— you mourn for him. 

I gritted my teeth further, my jaw aching. My hands shook.

Mother sighed, settling a palm atop one of mine. The touch sent an icy chill down my body, and it was enough to make me still, my hands no longer shaking.

“I know how hard it is, I do. It’s how I felt when I lost your father for the same reason. But eventually, you learn to let go.” She gave my hand a small squeeze, adding, “It helps when you’ve realized what you’ve been set free from.” 

Repulsed, I shot from my chair and tore from Mother’s touch. Though my heart thundered, I kept my expression solid as ice, determined not to let my true feelings slip. “I’m going to go hunting,” I muttered.

“Now? It’s still early. You haven’t even finished your—”

“Not hungry.”

I stood in the archway. Bright shades of pink and gold stretched across a cloudless sky, the sun climbing lazily over the Shadow-mountain bluffs. Looking at them, I remembered my dream. 

“Please come back safely,” said Mother, her voice coming from far away.

At that, my throat tightened. 

I swallowed hard. “I will.”