I reach the pine tree and run my hand along one of its huge, ancient branches. It's a red pine, a really wonderful old tree, and I often like to come here and draw or do homework with my friends or just sit. We haven't done that much lately because the weather's been turning colder and the other two can't stand Minnesota climate. I, on the other hand, like the cold (more or less) because I'm used to it and because at least my feathers don't start baking me alive when it's negative twenty degrees outside (that's Fahrenheit, not Celsius).

Not that it's negative twenty degrees out right now, but still-you get my point.

I climb up a few feet, sit on a thick branch, and rest my head against the main trunk. Sap gets in my hair and makes my jeans sticky, but I don't really care. It's nice up here, and being in trees always makes me happy. I close my eyes for what only feels like a few seconds but must be much longer, because when I open them up again the sun is noticeably lower in the sky and it's noticeably colder. I must have fallen asleep? I wonder, confused. I don't usually fall asleep randomly like that. It must be almost curfew, and I should probably get back.

A sudden rustling from below catches my attention and I glance down. Ayla smiles up at me, starting to climb the tree.

How the heck did she find me? I wonder.

"There you are!" She chirps. "I've been looking all over for you, you know. Cole was worried when you didn't come to dinner so I told him I would find you. It wasn't too hard-I just had to follow the trail of feathers." I wince as she climbs around me to a clear space on the branch, stepping on my knees with her oddly painful bare feet. "Sorry," She says, plopping down next to me. I make a face.

"So," She says, looking at me sideways, her teeth chattering slightly. "What's on your mind that's so important it made you skip your favorite class?" I snort halfheartedly, trying to act normal but failing miserably. "Nothing, I just felt gross and had to take a shower right away." I mutter. She looks unconvinced, but continues. "W-well, what was so important that made you avoid C-Cole and I afterwards and come out here in the cold and semi-dark?" She's shivering in her thin elven tunic and I feel bad for having made her come out here, even though it was entirely her choice. I sigh.

"Get over here, you idiot. It's freezing and you're out here in your summer clothes." She scoots over before I even finish talking and scrunches up as close to me as possible, her knees poking into my side, looking slightly relieved. "I don't know how you can h-h-handle this," She grumps. "It's so c-cold here!"

"I don't mind the cold, and I can see in the dark. Anyways, it's nice out here, especially for this time of year." I say, craning my neck to see into a distant window of the school.

She's still shivering despite being scrunched up in a tiny ball with her knees and elbows digging into my side (it never occurs to her that I might not like people quite that much in my space) and I decide it's time for her to go inside before she becomes an elven icecube, not to mention the fact that I fear she might become permanently merged with my ribcage if she gets any closer.

"Come on, you're freezing still and it's almost curfew. Let's go inside." I say, but she shakes her head. "You still h-haven't t-told me what's wrong yet," She says defiantly, staring up at me. "I'm s-staying out here with you until you've t-told me what's b-bugging you." I swallow, frowning, my feathers rising slightly. "I'm fine, honestly. Cole's just a mother hen and worries enough for four people. I just wanted to be outside."

"So s-something is bugging y-you," She says, and it's a statement, not a question. I frown at her harder, my heartbeat in my ears, trying to act as if it's something smaller than what it really is. To be honest, I'm still terrified and my stomach is still roiling worriedly. I don't want her to know-I don't want anyone to know-about my newest fear and the voice in my head. I'm scared of what they'll think of me. I'm scared they'll think I'm like my mom.

"Something is always bugging me," I point out and she rolls her eyes. "I mean m-more than usual," She snorts, accidentally poking me with her weird branch-antler thing. I wince. They're sharp, and very painful. I wonder what would happen if one broke.

"Come on, G-Griff, I c-can tell you're unhappy b-because y-your feathers are all ruffled." She says, and at that they fluff up even more. "It's cold," I say. "Of course they're fluffed up," I grump, trying to act normal still.

"They weren't w-when I was t-talking about how c-cold it is," She points out and I stay silent. "Come on, y-you can tell me." She wheedles, poking me in the ribs. "Alright! Something is bugging me!" I shout irritably, my feathers rising up all the way in a cream-colored crest above my head. My stomach clenches and twists unhappily as I breathe angrily through my nose, teeth gritted, turning my head away from her so I can't see her most likely shocked face at my sudden outburst. She leans away slightly in surprise.

I hate how angry I get.

Ayla's tiny hand touches my arm, the one with the scars, and I scrunch my eyes shut, holding in a shout I would most definitely have aimed at her had it escaped. I don't want to scare Ayla or hurt her feelings, but I really want to scream at someone. She's never seen me when I'm really, really mad, only minorly so, and I worry how she'll react when she sees me completely lose my temper. I jerk my arm away and lean my head on the tree trunk again, struggling to hold in my sudden roiling fury, and Ayla apologises for making me mad.

"Want to t-tell me what's wrong s-so I can try to make it b-better?" She shivers after a few seconds, and I rub the scars on my arm angrily. I take a minute to compose myself and nod once, my eyes closed, a deep scowl on my face. I decide it's about time she knew the whole story behind why I freak out whenever anyone mentions my scars.

I am not looking forward to this.

I take a deep breath. "I never completely told you about the scars on my arm, though Cole might have, being Cole." I begin, my voice an angry growl. I glance at Ayla, her face obviously showing that Cole never told her. She stares at me with a steady gaze, not urging me on or telling me to stop. I continue. "The reason I live here at school year round is because my dad is dead and my mom is in prison for life. My relatives refused to take me in and it was decided it would be better for me to live here than in an orphanage, and I really do like it here most of the time." I say darkly, swallowing and adjusting my position on the branch until I'm more comfortable before going on.

"... When I was six, my mom and dad got into some sort of argument. I can't remember what they were fighting about, but my mom had been kind of weird and quiet for a while, and eventually ended up clawing his face and nearly gouging his eye out. When she saw what she had done she tried to apologise, but dad wouldn't let her come close to either of us. He was scared of her, and I was scared because I didn't know what was going on. I remember there being this weird hum in the air, but after that I can't remember what happened up until the point where she-where she-" I choke suddenly, cutting myself off. I put my hands over my mouth and scrunch my eyes shut. Even though that was eight years ago, the images are still horribly vivid in my mind.

"She ripped him apart," I whisper. "Ripped him to pieces, right in front of my eyes. Then she tried to kill me, but I hid behind the water heater where she couldn't reach me. She bit my arm, and the only reason I wasn't torn apart too was because my dad had called the police before he was killed and they arrived just in time." I hiss between gritted teeth, and a single tear drips onto the bark before I can hold it in. Ayla gently wraps her tiny arms around my waist and hugs me.

"But, that isn't even the thing bugging me," I say shakily once I've crammed all those memories back where they belong, just letting her hug me. "You know how they started teaching us about the war going on under our noses this whole time? You know the enemy, how they have red eyes and spines up their backs and ink comes from their skin?" She nods, not shivering anymore now that she's hugging me. "Well," I swallow, my feathers itching as they spread and fluff up even more, down to my elbows. "I never knew what my mom was, and they-they look a bit like me," I cringe. "What if she was one of them?" I ask. "What if I'm one of them?" I whisper. "I have red eyes, and I'm growing spines up my back, and my mom was really violent, and I'm kind of violent sometimes, and-"

Ayla stops hugging me. "Look at me." I turn my head to face her but don't meet her eyes. "Come on, look me in the eyes." I look her in the eyes, and I see fierce determination written all over her face, along with a whole bunch of compassion and so much love (the friend kind) that it nearly hurts.

"When I came here, I already knew about the war. I knew about The Everything, and I knew what they looked like and what they could do. I want you to know that in all my time being here and being friends with you, it never, not ever, not one time, crossed my mind that you were like them in any way, and I can assure you you're not one of them. They're monsters. You're not." She takes a deep breath. "And, I'm so, so sorry all that awful stuff happened to you. If you need a hug, I'm here for you." She says.

I wrap her in a bear hug without saying anything. I shiver, even though I'm not cold. She understands and hugs me back.

I'm such a big, pathetic, emotional, birdbrained moron.

Though, I really couldn't live without Ayla and Cole. I would go crazy.

After a few seconds I clear my throat and we stop hugging. I feel immensely better, I really do, but I can't shake the unsettled feeling the voice had given me. Maybe it was just my nerves getting to me, I think. I hope so. I hope with everything I've got. "Thanks." I say quietly, not meeting her eyes. "Let's head back, it's almost curfew," I say, starting to climb down. I stand at the base of the tree and Ayla climbs down and onto my shoulders.

I start the walk back once she's situated and hope we're not too late. The sun is almost down, and it's gotten dramatically colder since I had originally come out. Ayla chatters happily to me as we walk to take my mind off the stuff I'd rather not think about, but I'm too deeply unsettled and I don't catch her mood, even though she does manage to distract me a little.

One of the leaves growing in her hair drifts down in front of my face and Ayla goes oddly silent halfway through a sentence. I glance up at her, hardly able to see her seeing as she's situated right behind my head. She bites her lip, but puts on a smile when she sees me looking. I decide it's time for me to return the favor she just did me.

"Why do you do that?" I ask. "... Do what?" She asks, resting her chin on the top of my head and I give up trying to look at her. "You know... Make a face like something's bugging you then cover it up and act like you're fine. Watch your head," I say, opening the door to the school and bending way over to walk in with Ayla on my shoulders. We make it inside without any collisions of heads on doorframes, and Ayla sighs.

"I just don't want anyone to worry about me, is all. Not that anything is bugging me, either." She says, not bothering to take her jaw off the top of my head to talk. It feels weird, but I ignore it, even when she ends up sticking her face into my hair and basically hugging my head, like she randomly does sometimes. "You just let me have an emotional episode," I point out. "I want to make you feel better back." She makes a weird noise with her face stuck in my hair and I wonder how I managed to get used to her doing that in the first place.

"Come on," I say, trying my best to be a good friend. "You made me voice literally my biggest fear. At least tell me what's bugging you, as long as we're on the topic." She kicks me hard in the ribs and makes a growling noise that obviously means no.

That's it. No more shoulder rides.

My feathers fluff up and start to spread irritably up my neck and down my arms again. I stop and crouch down, dumping her unceremoniously off my shoulders.

"Don't kick me," I growl as I stand up, rubbing my sore ribs. "Jerk." I add for good measure. She frowns at me from her spot on the floor and I can tell she's still not going to tell me what's wrong. I start to get frustrated. "You're doing exactly what I just did," I say, exasperated. "But worse, seeing as I didn't kick you when you kept bothering me about it! At least I trusted you enough to tell you!" She stands up and stares me defiantly in the eye, despite being half my height. "It's considered weak for girls in my culture to admit to being scared or sad about something, birdbrain. Especially to talk about that kind of stuff with a boy." She shouts up at me. I blink in surprise, suddenly very angry again.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" I grump, my voice louder than is necessary. "I would have left you alone!" I'm confused by her sudden attitude, and somewhat startled by the birdbrain comment. She's never actually insulted me before, and even though it wasn't much of an insult it's still a little jarring. Not only that, but I'm mad that she thinks less of me because I'm a boy.

I don't care if it's a cultural thing, it's irritating.

"Also, why did you confide in Cole and I at dinner on your first day here? You hardly knew us then, and now that you know us more you're even less eager to talk to us! Isn't it our job as your friends to listen to your freaking problems?!" I shout, incredibly irritated and frustrated. Ayla refuses to answer me and another leaf drifts lazily from her hair. A feather drifts down from my neck and lands next to her leaf.

We stare each other down.

I've never, not once, seen this side of her before.

It's alarming.