Jade Fern Grove everything costs

They did not run far before she stopped and slid against the belly of a wide oak.

Everett slowed himself before he tore past her, the flurry subsiding, yet tears still blurred his vision like raindrops on glass. He blinked to clear his eyes.

Don’t call me that.

Her voice was small, distant, despite how close he’d drawn near her again. Not too close, not too close, but close enough he could pursue her again if she tried to run.

He would not let her die here.

Okay, he said, and Everett eased to his haunches and considered his sister.

He did not understand her. Did not know all that lay broken inside, only saw what was broken upon her body, ripped in places that should have been stitched, sunken in places that should have been filled. Reflecting that girl yet broken inside. Perhaps. Perhaps.

He knew, at least, that he would always be that broken boy, even as his face glowed, filled and whole.

An odd stillness stole the air around her.

Okay. Then what would you like me to call you? he asked softly, and hoped for a better start.