“Is it dead?” Tate asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Not yet, but I’m afraid it’s too late to save it.” Leelo’s fingers itched to stroke the gray down giving way to snowy white feathers. The creature was so beautiful she felt her eyes fill with tears. “The poor thing. It didn’t deserve to die this way.”

Every year, young birds made the mistake of landing on what appeared to be a pristine mountain lake, not realizing no fish lived in its waters, no plants grew in its shallows. Within a day, the birds were reduced to nothing but their hollow bones. Given long enough, even those would eventually dissolve. Leelo had never encountered a bird that was still alive before.

Feeling the creature’s life slip away in her hands was somehow worse than hunting, because this death was senseless. They couldn’t eat the meat, as it was already tainted by the poison.

After a few minutes, Tate placed his hand gently on his sister’s shoulder. “It’s not suffering anymore, Lo.”

She sniffed and dried her cheek on her shoulder. “I know.”

“Maybe you can wash the feathers and use them for your crown. Then a small piece of it will live on, in a way.”

Leelo turned to look into her brother’s brown eyes, her heart swelling at his gentle earnestness. She rose and pulled him into an embrace. “That’s a lovely idea,” she whispered against his soft hair. “Will you help me?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

Together, they rinsed the lifeless cygnet with fresh water from Leelo’s waterskin, then wrapped it in Leelo’s cloak before heading back toward the house. On the way, Tate gathered a few thin branches from the Forest floor, supple enough to bend into a crown. Leelo pointed out some brilliant blue berries that would make the perfect adornment. Tate plucked half a dozen, whispered a prayer, and placed them in his pocket for safekeeping.

When they were nearly at the house, Tate stopped to tie his bootlace and motioned for Leelo to kneel down next to him.

“What is it?” she asked.

He kept his voice low, though they were still alone. “Aunt Ketty is watching from the window.” Leelo knew well enough not to look up. “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Leelo assured him. “She’s just Ketty.”

He frowned. “She’s going to wonder what we were doing.”

“I’ll tell her I asked for your help. Don’t worry, little brother.”

“I’m scared.”

Leelo knew he wasn’t talking about their aunt anymore. She reached out and cupped the dwindling roundness of his cheek for just a moment. “If it’s any consolation, so am I.”

They shared a small, sad smile before straightening. “I’ll wash and pluck the swan,” Tate said. “You should go and finish your chores.”

“Be careful. Wear gloves.”