Moving Forward

“Woodrow Village, as you know, is a small village nestled in a valley within a great forest.”

It was the next day. The night had passed without incident. Ylfa and Eny had slept in their beds, with Ylfa in the double. Jere had taken the couch, much to Ylfa’s disappointment, though she hadn’t voiced it. Now the three of them sat together on that same couch, Chav settled into an armchair opposite, explaining how the village operated as he had promised the day before.

Eny was diligently translating his words into Ylfa’s mind, her little face scrunched in concentration. Jere, half listening to Chav, found himself watching her with curiosity - how long could she keep this up before she grew tired or bored?

Chav looked comfortable, even casual, despite being in the presence of a Formy and the Angel of Death.

“We don’t have a proper money system here,” he continued. “We value things like gold or jewelry, but no coin passes hands. The way we live is simple: if you want something, you make it yourself. If you need something, someone will help you - but only if you’re willing to work. A freeloader won’t last long here.”

His eyes flicked to Jere.
“Jere, your wings will be a great help with all sorts of things. I don’t imagine you’ll have any trouble finding work. Ylfa, on the other hand…”

He trailed off.

Ylfa stiffened as Eny passed the words along.

Chav sighed.
“A Formy with no hearing. That’s a real problem. We can’t have you freeloading.”

Jere’s mouth moved before his mind caught up.
“Then make me do more. I can work through the night if you like. I don’t need sleep. Just don’t-”

Chav held up his hand, cutting him off.
“Let me finish.” His voice had sharpened, though his eyes flickered with unease. “We may have a way to fix her hearing.”

Both Jere and Ylfa straightened instantly. Eny translated Ylfa’s thought aloud:
“Mama wants to know what the catch is.”

A sly grin crept across Chav’s face.
“You’re right. There is one. We do have a healer who could restore your hearing. But we don’t trust you yet. And we won’t do it for free. If you want to be healed-”

He stopped as Jere rose to his feet. Wings began to unfurl, casting shadows across the room, sharp as blades. Chav flinched back, terror written across his face. But then Ylfa’s hand caught Jere’s.

Her grip was gentle, but her eyes told him not to.

For a long heartbeat Jere hesitated, then slowly folded his wings back in. He sat down again, his jaw tense. Ylfa gave him a small, nervous smile before fixing her gaze on Chav.

The villager swallowed hard, color drained from his face. He wiped at his brow and forced his voice steady.
“A-as I was saying - there’s simpler work you can do, like gardening, that doesn’t rely on hearing.”

Ylfa narrowed her eyes. Eny relayed her words:
“Mama says she’s still strong, even without her hearing.”

Chav nodded quickly.
“I don’t doubt it. But once Jere starts working, we won’t need strength as much as care. Gardens, fields, small things - it may not sound grand, but it’s work worth doing.”

Jere felt something twist inside his chest. Wasn’t it his fault that she’d been reduced to this? Because of him, she was deaf. Because of him, she was being pushed into menial tasks when she could have been so much more. He glanced at her - shoulders sagging, eyes downcast - before she finally nodded.

Eny spoke her thoughts.
“Mama says she’ll do what you ask.”

Chav smiled, too satisfied for Jere’s liking.
“Good. Don’t worry - you’ll be looked after. And you can keep learning sign. Even after you’re healed, that skill will be useful. Effie will help you until you’re confident enough to communicate on your own.”

Ylfa nodded again, though the sadness lingered in her eyes.

Jere was unsettled. Why didn’t she just threaten Chav and force him to give her hearing back immediately? And why was it so vital to them that she worked for the cure, when healing her now would make her far more useful? And why keep pushing her to learn sign if she was going to regain her hearing? Two answers came to him - either they wanted her bound to this path for their own reasons, or they never intended to heal her at all.

He shook his head, realizing he was thinking in circles.

Chav rose to his feet with effort.
“Alright then. Jere, come with me. Ylfa, Effie will meet you later to get you started. Eny - listen to your… parents.”

He raised his brows at the word, but neither Jere nor Ylfa reacted. With a shrug, he turned and left, Jere following behind reluctantly.

Ylfa let out a breath. No sound reached her own ears, but she felt the release in her chest. Eny’s voice came into her mind.
“Mama, are you alright?”

Ylfa smiled and nodded. She shaped her thoughts carefully.
Yes, I’m alright. Eny, when Effie comes, you can join us. Maybe there will be other children for you to play with.

Eny’s face lit up.
“Okay!”

Ylfa’s smile softened. She truly thought of Eny as her own daughter now. And she was content - happy even - to be known as Jere’s wife. She only wished she could tell him how she felt without Eny overhearing and relaying every word.

Eny tilted her head.
“If you want me to go somewhere else, I can.”

Ylfa’s eyes widened and she shook her head quickly.
No, I don’t want you to go anywhere else.

Eny’s gaze searched her face.
“Really?”

Ylfa’s heart swelled. She smiled and thought warmly.
Of course. I love you.

Eny’s eyes sparkled, and she leapt into Ylfa’s arms, hugging her tight.
“I love you too, Mama.”

Ylfa held her close, her heart melting, her worries dissolving into the warmth of her daughter’s embrace.

“We’ve got two main jobs we think you’ll be good at - hunting and construction.”

Chav and Jere walked down the slope of the valley toward the heart of the village. The forest pressed close on either side, sunlight breaking through the canopy in shards of gold. Jere’s processors were working overtime, running countless calculations to tease out Chav’s true intentions. He wasn’t concerned for himself; he could adapt to anything. His thoughts remained fixed on Ylfa and Eny, and how whatever bargain he accepted now would ripple back to them.

Chav’s voice carried on, matter-of-fact.
“Hunting is straightforward - track and kill animals, bring them back whole as you can. Construction’s a little more complicated, but you’d mostly be following instructions.”

Jere filed the words away, already evaluating. Hunting seemed the better fit - cleaner, simpler, and more aligned with his nature. But he let Chav continue.

“From what we’ve heard, the fire yesterday was stopped by a firebreak of felled trees.” Chav glanced sideways at him. “If you’re able to bring down that many so quickly, you’ll be a great help here. Felling a single tree can take hours. Your wings? They’ll save us days of work.”

Jere inclined his head. He disliked the thought of his power reduced to something so mundane as chopping trees. But he was in no position to complain - not if it kept Ylfa and Eny safe.

Chav went on.
“You’ll have quotas. Once you meet them, you’re free to spend the rest of the day how you like - unless extra help is needed. Which it will be, more often than not.”

Then Chav’s gaze sharpened.
“But there’s one condition - you can’t help your wife with her work. That’s one of the few special rules I’ve got for you. Understand?”

Jere blinked. That made no sense. Wouldn’t the village benefit more if he helped Ylfa finish faster? Finally, he spoke.
“Why not?”

Chav’s expression hardened.
“Because I need her with Effie. I need her to learn sign. If you want me to explain further, prove I can trust you first. Do your work, earn your place. Got it?”

Jere studied him for a long moment before giving a slow nod. He still couldn’t work out why they were so determined to push Ylfa toward sign when she might soon regain her hearing. Unless, of course, they had no intention of healing her at all.

Chav’s mouth pulled into a thin smile.
“Good. Then let’s get you started. I’m assuming you’ve lived a life of killing, so your first task will be hunting.”

The casual cruelty in his tone made Jere’s jaw clench, but he stayed silent.

“This village has a population of two thousand four hundred and five now, with you included. That means we need around twenty-four pigs a day, and we always take one more just to be safe. The forest’s full of them - we don’t worry about overhunting. Just make sure you don’t…” his eyes flicked sharply toward Jere, “…set fire to the forest again.”

Jere’s wings twitched at his back, but he gave only another curt nod. Hunting pigs carried little risk of fire - though he knew there was never such a thing as zero.

Chav halted and turned to face him.
“Does all that make sense?”

Jere met his gaze, silent, then inclined his head once more.

Chav studied him, perhaps unsettled by how easily he accepted orders. Finally, he gave a single approving nod.
“Good. Then begin whenever you like. Bring the corpses to the butcher.”

Jere’s lips tightened, but he said nothing. Then, in one smooth motion, he spread his gleaming jet-black wings. The air cracked with the force of a single beat, the downdraft nearly knocking Chav off his feet as Jere launched skyward, vanishing into the treetops with the sound of rushing wind.

The sky was already darkening when Jere pushed open the door and stepped back into the house. The air still clung faintly of cooking smoke and fresh wood from the day’s work. He padded quietly into the living room, where Ylfa and Eny sat opposite each other on the couch, their eyes locked in silent communion. To Jere, it was like watching an invisible thread pull between them - whatever words passed there, he was not privy to.

Eny was the first to notice him. She looked up with a bright grin and waved, her small hand flapping eagerly. A beat later Ylfa reacted too, following Eny’s cue. Recognition lit her face, and she broke into a smile so wide it made Jere’s chest tighten. Her hands rose into motion, fingers shaping practiced gestures.

How was your day, #######?

Jere tilted his head, processors stalling on the last word. The pattern didn’t match any he’d been shown before. Ylfa’s smile only widened, a hint of mischief in it, and she shrugged as though daring him to puzzle it out.

Eny giggled. “It means ‘darling’.”

The word landed like a stone in a still pond. Ylfa froze mid-motion, her cheeks flaring pink as if Eny had yanked a private thought into daylight. Her hands curled half-shyly back into her lap.

Jere didn’t know what to do with the sudden rush of warmth in his chest - processor cycles scrambling for a response that didn’t exist in his files. So he fell back on simplicity. He smiled, steady and gentle, and signed back with careful motions.

It was fine. What about yours?

Ylfa’s embarrassment lingered, but she rallied quickly, lifting her hands again. Her motions faltered halfway through, not quite smooth yet.

###### than I ####### it would be.

Eny’s voice filled the gap, matter-of-fact. “She tried to say, ‘better than she thought it would be.’”

Jere gave a small nod, committing each sign to his flawless recall, mapping movements to words in neat precision. That was how he learned - once seen, never forgotten.

He shifted to his thoughts, trusting Eny would carry them across.
You’ll both have to teach me more, so I can follow along.

Eny’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she relayed it, and Ylfa nodded, the earlier fluster melting into something soft and content. She signed again, slower this time, deliberately.

We will.

Eny slept peacefully in her bed, her small form curled beneath the blankets, while Jere and Ylfa sat together on the couch. The quiet of night wrapped around the room, broken only by the occasional pop of the lamp’s faintly flickering glow. They spoke in rough sign - slow, clumsy, and halting. Jere’s knowledge of the language was limited, and Ylfa wasn’t much further along, so every sentence had to be spelled out, letter by letter. Still, the effort made Ylfa laugh silently, her grin brighter than the lamp’s light.

Jere thought she looked beautiful when she laughed like that. It filled him with a quiet joy to see her smile despite everything she had endured. He didn’t know what else he could give her beyond his cooking, his protection, and his presence. But it didn’t feel like enough. His hands slowed as he signed a thought that pressed on him heavily.

Is there anything I can do for you?

Ylfa frowned slightly, tilting her head.
Why? You’re already doing so much.

I feel guilty, he signed back, his expression troubled.

Her face softened as she spelled out a gentle reply.
You don’t need to feel guilty.

But Jere shook his head.
I can’t help it. Please - anything I can do?

For a few moments she thought, her tail curling and uncurling against the cushions. Then she signed with deliberate precision.
Stay still.

He obeyed. Slowly, she shifted and turned until her body reclined against the couch, her head settling carefully into his lap. His heart began to race, thudding hard against his chest. Ylfa looked up at him with a smile, her tail flicking softly against the fabric in gentle, rhythmic taps.

I’m going to sleep here tonight. Is that alright?

He nodded, though his nerves made him want to look away. For some reason he felt almost embarrassed, as if caught doing something private, though all he had done was sit still. She smiled faintly and signed one last time.

You can stroke my hair if you want. Goodnight, darling.

She rolled onto her side, facing away from him. Jere hesitated, then slowly lifted his hand and brushed it against her head. Her hair was softer than he had expected - silken strands of rich mahogany, freshly washed, sliding smoothly across his fingers. He stroked her gently, each movement careful, almost reverent.

Her last word lingered in his mind. Darling. Something about it stirred him, an emotion that his processors struggled to define but his heart seemed to recognize. It was tied to warmth, to affection, to love. He could feel his systems cataloguing the moment, recording her choice of words, filing away possibilities.

Methodically, almost rhythmically, his hand continued to move as Ylfa’s breathing grew slow and even in sleep. And for the first time since he could remember, Jere felt content. He was here, in this quiet room, with Ylfa resting against him and Eny safe nearby. His girlfriend pretending to be his wife. Their daughter, adopted by circumstance but loved all the same. A family.

Yes, he thought. This is what I was searching for. This is what I wanted. This is good. This is love.

In the dim glow of the lamp, Jere smiled to himself, unseen by anyone but felt all the same. He listened to Ylfa’s steady breathing, and then - suddenly - he became aware of his own. For once, it wasn’t automatic. It was deliberate, chosen.

A grin spread across his face. Another step closer to being human.