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Prologue

"..ryn."

His eyes fluttered, but didn't open.

"K..yn."

A gargled groan escaped his dry lips.

"Kieryn."

His eyelids finally opened at the sound of his name and he blinked twice to clear the blurriness in his vision. His irises moved around, scanning the bedroom. It was a simple, small room, and adequately lit as well, with walls painted in hospitalish green-beige and a wooden floor that's a dizzying design of zig zags. The window curtains, drapelike and springtime green, blow in the abrupt, cool wind. Soft perfume wafts through the air, and he recognizes it as her scent.

It was faint, but still noticeable enough.

He expected a figure to be next to his bed, watching over him and giving him a warm smile. When he turned his head, a wooden chair was placed right next to him.

But it was empty. And the room had gotten cold.

The only source of warmth he could find was on the pillows of the chair.

She left recently.

He was confused, knowing that he heard someone calling him, but didn't know if it was a dream.

A smile stretched onto the boy's face, gleaming with hope that his mother and only friend would come back. He was still shaken up from the dream of the woman disappearing with the wind, and he would walk aimlessly for her.

He didn't want her to leave him.

He would be alone again.

The boy hopped out of bed, his bare feet slapping on the dusty wooden floor. And he stopped. He looked down at the dust piling in the corners of the room and frowned. She hated dust, and would nag him for hours about how keeping things clean was important. Cleanliness is next to godliness, she repeated every time.

He decided to tell her that he didn't know where the broom was.

It wasn't a lie. She would always forget to put things in the same place. He was only bending the truth.

He grinned, believing himself to be the smartest person in the world. As he rushed downstairs he realized the first floor was even colder than his room. He looked around the cramped family room noticing etchings on a wall next to the stairs. His eyes opened wider as he stared at the numbers and measurements. He had forgotten about it. The wall was used to mark his height each year.

The woman always teased him, saying he would never be as tall as her. She was several feet taller than her and grew an inch every year. He didn't want to be treated like a child anymore, even though he was one.

His fingers ran over the markings on the wall. A sharp pain shot through the tip of his finger and he hissed. A splinter poked him, breaking skin and drawing a small dot of blood. He immediately stuck his finger in his mouth like his mother taught him to. The warm, metallic taste of blood almost made him gag.

She wasn't here yet, so he sat on the ivory white sofa, tapping his fingers on his lap. He hummed an unknown tune. He was used to waiting for her in the mornings after he woke up. He didn't know what she did while she was gone, but trusted that she would be safe. He didn't have to worry. She would always bring several sweets for him as an apology for being late. Because of this, he may have gained a sweet tooth.

He waited on the sofa, which was littered with open books and papers, not moving an inch. He was curious about what was inside, but knew his mother would be mad, so he distracted himself by looking at the clock hanging near the kitchen. It didn't make a single -tick-, so he convinced himself it was broken. Again.

The chirping of birds was almost rhythmic. He always wondered if birds were just naturally good singers.

As he sat in the same place longer, his body felt numb. The room started to become blurry and darkness formed in the corners of his vision. Sleep was starting to take over him; he was blinking slower. He slapped himself on both cheeks and forced his eyes wide open. He was determined to wait for her and greet her with a hug when she came back.

However, he lost track of time after an hour and eventually succumbed to the sound of blue flycatchers calling in the woods. It was a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

When he woke up, it was dark inside the house. He looked outside the window, seeing dark clouds covering the warm sun and droplets of rain hitting the glass.

He frowned, his lips forming a thin line. He hated the rain. It would easily disturb him when he was sleeping, and he had to make an exhausted woman stay beside him until he fell asleep again. Worse, it made the house colder. He longed for the warmth of the woman.

He realized the woman hadn't come back yet. He was becoming worried that the woman was injured, or worse...

He shook his head and slapped his cheeks again. He had to have faith in her. She was strong and could take care of herself.

He unlocked the front door, and it creaked open as he pulled on it. The rain was bucketing down, slapping against the porch. It was so heavy, he couldn't see farther than the home he stayed in.

Except for two small yellow dots.

He squints his eyes, trying to see past the pouring rain. The shape became much clearer and the boy's heart dropped to his stomach when he was staring into the eyes of a predator.

The extraordinarily muscular beast gazed at him with its yellow-brown eyes. The thick stripes covered most of its orange fur, making it appear almost totally black. It opened its mouth for a split second, drawing the boy's gaze to the abnormally sharp and large teeth inside. It has a large and heavy head that is lowered upon seeing the small child.

The beast flicked its tail once, before turning its direction to the boy. Its muscle rippled as it took one step forward.

Kieryn reacted quickly, wrapping his shaky hands around the doorknob and shutting the door.

'Where was she? She couldn't be injured... from that thing, right?'

He locks the door, knowing his mother will be able to get in. He sat back on the couch, this time he stayed awake. The image of the fierce beast and its razor-sharp teeth replayed in his head, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he didn't close the door in time. Time was slipping by, and the longer the woman was gone, the more his anxiety grew. But he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited...

His body temperature dropped and his teeth clattered. The room was losing its warmth and her scent. It was dead silent. He missed her voice. And her laughter.

His long, skinny legs took him back to the comfort of his bedroom. But it was cold, too. He looked at the chair, and the pillow that sat there. Her pillow.

He almost flew to the chair and he snatched the soft, peach-colored material off the cold wood. He dived under his blanket and wrapped himself in the little warmth it provided him. He forgot to close the windows, letting cold air replace the warmth the room had. He didn't want to get up, as he was trying to preserve that faint scent the pillow had.

He didn't want to forget her scent, since it was the only thing that comforted him in the freezing room. He hugged the pillow for dear life, burying his nose in the pillow, still hoping she would come soon. He could make out the familiar smell of honey and roses.

However, the smell was quickly leaving as the cold wind blew wildly in the room. He knew that if he were to get up, the calming scent would disappear, so he suffocated himself in the pillow to take up and remember as much of the scent as he could in the last few seconds he had.

...

Tears soiled the material and sobs escaped the boys chapped lips. Even as the blanket slipped from his hold, he continued to hug the scentless pillow. The boy was freezing now, and begged whatever god was above to bring her back.

'Mom...'

'Come back... Please.'

'I promise I'll clean my room like you tell me to.'

The freezing boy was scared. Shaking. All he wanted is to run into her long, pale arms and watch as her small eyes become smaller when she smiles. His vision was blurry with fat tears.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited for his mother to return.

His fingers were turning blue and he was shaking violently. But the rain was relentless and still poured down outside the house. In the corner of his teary eyes, he saw a shimmer of yellow. His head snapped towards the gleam of light, noticing what seemed to be a piece of stone.

It was raw citrine made into a pendant. It was shaped as a hexagon, the dark rich honey gold stone shining because of his tears. There were strange symbols carved into and around the raw stone. The chain attached to the stone was a thin white gold chain.

He held the pendant into his hand ever so lightly as if it were fragile. It was the only thing that reminded him of his mother and friend. His numb, blue lips stretched into a small smile. Her scent may not have been on the pendant, but he knew the pendant was from his dear mother. He just didn't know if she intentionally left it for him.

Seeing how it was sitting on a wood drawer in his room next to his bed, that could be the case.

He vowed to keep the pendant safe with him and give it back to his mother when she comes back. He covered himself in his thick blankets and kept the necklace warm in his freezing hands for the rest of the night.

The rain didn't stop.

And his mother didn't come back.