He had been tracking the boar for the better part of the evening, staying low to the ground and following the small marks left on the soft, forest floor. Once or twice, the beast had broken through less navigable terrain, but it always wound back to one of the paths. A few more meters and he might finally have a clear shot.

Julian paused by a running brook, still crouched and with his crossbow hanging by his side. The fingers of one hand tracing idly across the string, he lifted his other hand high enough to check the direction of the wind. In those blessed moments which followed, the world fell to a hush. The harmonious sounds of nature faded into the background and serenity blew through his soul like a breeze on the wind. His palm found the stock of the crossbow while the lifted hand reached back and felt for the bolts in his quiver. Just as the leaves of a bush began to rustle, Julian sprang into action.

The bolt was swiftly secured into place as he launched onto his feet and lined the boar in his sight. The animal lurched and as Julian pressed the trigger, he compensated for the turn with a split second adjustment which drove the bolt home into the back of the boar’s neck. It floundered to one side and lay still after issuing one last squeal of protest. A smile of victory broke out on Julian’s face. “Got you,” he murmured under his breath.

The words produced a tuft of steam and the march toward the fallen animal brought with it the crunch of pine needles and small twigs. The air crisp, it bore the reminder that this winter would be a brutal one and might have surrendered the last hunting trip Julian would enjoy. He knelt beside his kill and pulled the bolt out of its neck, admiring the size of the beast with a heavy sigh. Carrying it back to the car would be a difficult, mile-long march. Still, Birgit was worth it.

It had been two years since the last time she returned home.

Julian frowned as his gaze lifted to regard the overcast sky. Securing the crossbow into a sling, he removed his quiver from his back and unzipped a pouch to produce a small, folded tarp. His thoughts drifted as he tied a length of rope around the boar’s body. Two years ago, he had been seventeen, finishing school and apprenticing at the factory. Now, he worked there full time, a mundane life of employment and family waiting for him in the horizon. It was enough to make the military look appealing.

He stifled a soft chuckle and tossed the length of rope around a low-lying, sturdy branch. Gripping it tight with both hands, he pulled on his end until the wild pig dangled from the ground. His muscles strained under the weight of the animal and the tree limb bowed nearly to the point of breaking, but held. He tied his end of the rope off and pulled a dagger from a sheath strapped around his thigh. Bleeding the pig out would at least make transport a little easier. Not to mention, it would give him more time alone with his thoughts, even if that had been a dangerous proposition those days. The walls were closing in around him – the life of auto assembly lines and urban chaos becoming more than he could bear. The only time he found any reprieve seemed to be out in the forest.

Papa said he had almost been born with a crossbow in his hands. Mama relished the fresh meat and rewarded the family with a hearty dinner. Julian only told a half-truth when he mentioned hunting something for Birgit’s homecoming; he had wanted to ensure she have a proper dinner, true. But he wandered an hour away because seeing her again was beginning to mark the passage of time. Something about the concept had inspired this latest wave of unease.

He grumbled softly and slit the boar’s throat. Blood trickled from the wound, a macabre display he had long since become desensitized toward. As it pooled onto the forest floor, he admired the blade of his knife and frowned, wishing he knew what had bothering him lately. Maybe it was something in the air, but it did not seem apt to depart anytime soon.

With a solemn sigh, he began the task of dressing the kill.

Maybe Birgit would know. She always seemed to.

***

It had been explained to him the only way such matters could be discussed with eight-year-old boys. His older sister – the rock who had been a surrogate parent to him – was sick and needed to get better. Years passed in-between. Hannelore gave birth to Klaus shortly after Birgit’s departure and baby Ilse followed three years afterward.  Each time Julian saw Birgit since then, he never noticed any illness manifest in the way she held herself. She would sleep for half the morning her first day there and tell stories about London over dinner. Her tales of the school itself were vague, with faceless instructors who were teaching her ‘a lot of things.’ By the time he turned twelve, his parents stopped asking which things and by now, they had given up any hope of her moving back to Germany.

Julian would still press her, though, in private, and away from the skeptical glances and frowns of their mother and father. Through the years, a tale had been assembled with strategic pieces left out of certain parts. Her school let her travel, and she’d sneak back a trinket for Julian from Paris or Belgium or somewhere in Spain. “I wish I could see the world like you do,” he had said during her last visit home.

She only smiled solemnly and replied, “Everything comes with a price, Julian. You wouldn’t want to see it for the same reasons.” Still, it had done nothing to dissuade him. He visited relatives in Switzerland one summer and took the train to Italy on his eighteenth birthday in a sheer flight of fancy. Mannfred chastised him when he returned, reiterating the charge that one day, Julian would have to find his own apartment and be an independent man. The life of responsibility thrust upon him suited him ill, but he never failed to show up for work and never stopped considering the next place he might wander off to. Backpacking in the Alps. Perhaps even surprising Birgit in London. Maybe life would find him somewhere out there, instead of fencing him within the confines of Stuttgart.

Maybe one day he would figure out why that was such a concern for him.

Carting the remains of the boar took longer than he expected, and dusk had begun to settle by the time he started the car and drove the tarp-wrapped carcass back to the city limits. A light drizzle descended on the German countryside which turned into a full deluge when he merged into the busy metropolitan traffic. His mother was waiting by the door when he pulled up to the house. “Back in plenty of time?” she said, folding her arms across her chest as he opened the trunk and hefted out dinner. “I expected you home three hours ago. Your father had to take his car to the airport to pick up your sister.”

Julian sighed, water beginning to trickle down the collar of his shirt. “I needed to dress the pig,” he said, leaving the trunk ajar in favor of carrying the boar into the house. His mother frowned as she held the door open, and deigned to walk outside and shut the trunk before retreating inside again. The weight of her stare settled onto his shoulders when she padded into the kitchen.

“We’ll have to save that for tomorrow. Your father isn’t here to butcher the pig.”

He deposited the weight on the counter and bit his tongue when his mother suggested that next time, he should kill a rabbit or something smaller. The Reichlin matriarch did not skip a beat in springboarding from a critique of his target to commentary on his state of appearance, and as the topic of discussion centered on his general grooming, Julian retreated into the bathroom to shower. The silence of seclusion found him again, even if just for a few fleeting minutes. The activity of the house picked up soon afterward, though.

His younger siblings bustled around the living room and were shooed away from the kitchen while Hannelore cooked. Julian smirked to himself when he noticed bits of pork frying in a skillet with a complement of chopped up vegetables and broth. The beer he stole from the refrigerator served as a prize for a job well done, and was polished off in time for the front door to swing open again. Mannfred entered first, lugging a suitcase in each hand.

When Julian spied Birgit, his face lit with a smile.

She glanced around at the other children as they raced to the door to greet her. The years had bestowed her with beauty, and regardless of whatever might have been twisting inside her mind, her exterior bore a tough, but graceful appearance. Barrettes held back her long, silken locks and her blue eyes were still the glacier blue they had been as an eleven-year-old. When they found Julian, a mixture of relief and happiness washed over her face. In the back of his mind he wondered how much he mirrored the expression.

He crossed the room to circle her in his arms, his grin broadening when she clutched onto him in return. They held the embrace for several moments and when they parted, kissed each other’s cheek before pulling away. She chuckled when he brushed drops of rain from his shirt, both hands settling on her hips as she paused to admire him. “Julian, who gave you permission to grow into a man?” she asked.

Julian laughed, pointing heavenward while walking with her toward the kitchen. “Take it up with the Almighty,” he said. “I think He handles that sort of thing.”

“At least your brother is big enough to bring dinner, now.” Hannelore turned from the stove to kiss Birgit on the cheek. “Hello, Liebling. I hope your flight went well.”

“It went very well, Mama.” Birgit exchanged the kiss and glanced toward Mannfred as he lumbered into the hallway and toward the girls’ room. She sighed. “I should help Papa with my bags.”

“Oh nonsense. Let your father leave them in your room. You can unpack after dinner.” Hannelore nodded toward Julian. “Thank your brother. He went out hunting and brought home a pig.”

Birgit smirked with amusement when she looked toward Julian again. “Sneaking through the woods with that crossbow of yours?”

Julian shrugged, grinning coyly. “I like to hunt.”

“He would live in the forest if he was able to,” their mother said. She pointed a wooden ladle at the boar’s remains. “Your father is going to grumble about having to cut up a pig so late in the evening. I’ll remind him that means he has bacon in the morning.”

“He complains too much as it is.”

Birgit shot a look of warning at Julian, who rolled his eyes in response. The gesture brought a smile to her face, as it did every time they played this game. Julian felt like adding the obligatory comment, that he had to deal with their parents more than she did, but it seemed to settle between them just the same. Mannfred joined the family in the kitchen and while their mother cooked, he carried the rest of the boar into the shed and butchered it.

Hot bowls of soup and warm chunks of bread adorned the kitchen table. Julian’s father retreated to wash up and when he reappeared, the family held hands and prayed over their food. A mostly silent meal followed, bursts of conversation brewing which dissipated just as quickly as they were summoned. Julian winced when Hannelore asked if Birgit was dating and interjected once on her behalf, saying, “Mama, Birgit’s only three years older than me. Let her find a husband when she’s ready to.”

“Says the boy who refuses to leave the house,” Hannelore rebuffed, but the comment was enough to change the topic of conversation, even if it trained its focus on Julian for longer than he would’ve liked. Julian sighed and cleared the bowls and plates from the table, casting a sideways glance at Birgit. ‘See what you’re missing,’ his eyes conveyed to his sister.

Hers responded with a gentle, ‘Be grateful for what you have. Even when it annoys you.’

He frowned, but continued to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves and starting the cleanup. The younger children helped by putting the dishes away and Mannfred settled in his chair with his pipe, taking possession of the television for the night. Birgit caught Julian’s eye, cocking her head toward the front door and Julian nodded, finishing up the last dish and tousling Klaus’s hair as he walked past. The teenage boy issued a complaint Julian promptly ignored to join his sister outside.

The rain had changed from a downpour to a light mist. Birgit huddled her coat close to her body and smirked when Julian emerged with his sleeves still up to his elbows. “You’re trying to catch your death,” she said, settling onto the swing mounted on the porch.

Julian laughed, walking over to one of the posts and resting his weight against it. With one hand, he rolled the fabric back down to his wrists. “I don’t know how the weather is in London, but you get used to autumn here.”

“It’s cold there, too. Foggy and rainy more than I think it is here. I don’t remember.” The corner of her mouth curled into an apologetic smile. “I feel like I’ve spent more of my life there than I have here.”

“Sometimes feels that way for me, too.” He sighed, glancing toward the streetlights and glistening roads. “They won’t let you come home for Christmas again?”

“I’m sorry, Julian. Christmas isn’t a good time of year for me.” She brightened a little. “They’ve been letting me work lately, though. I help in the office, sorting mail and filing papers.”

“That’s good.” When he looked back, he mirrored the conciliatory grin and walked over to the porch swing. Birgit slid over and he settled beside her, one foot propped on the banister in front of them and the other on the ground, pushing off the wooden boards to swing them back and forth. His gaze remained fixed forward, a pensive air emanating from him which only made the silence tenser.

Birgit shook her head. “You’re moodier than usual.”

He grunted in response, but finally directed his attention back to his sister. The look in her eyes read of concern and when Birgit was concerned, it wasn’t easy for him to dismiss it. His disposition softened. “Restless,” he said, punctuating the word with a shrug. A subtle grin tugged at his lips. “I’ve been traveling this past year. I would’ve sent you postcards, but we don’t have your address.”

She smiled, the side-step an obvious, but forgivable, one. “So, tell me where you’ve gone.”

Julian laughed. “Just to Switzerland and Italy. I’m saving for another holiday, but I’m not sure where yet.”

Her smile brightened. “How did you like Italy?”

“It was nice. The sea looks beautiful in the sunlight. I went for my birthday and brought Mama back a few souvenirs. Klaus, Heike, and Ilse, too.” He chuckled, motioning with his hands as he spoke. “Ilse tried to play tea party souvenir cups and Mama had a fit when she spilled her drink everywhere.”

Birgit descended into a torrent of laughter and Julian nodded as her cheeks flushed, her eyes dancing with amusement. “She made me help Ilse clean it,” Julian continued, “And Ilse cried, asking if her doll had been ruined. It took us hours to assure her that Mama could wash it.”

Steam escaped past Birgit’s lips when she exhaled a deep breath. “I barely know Ilse. Klaus looks a lot like you and Papa.”

Julian wrinkled his nose. “You think I look like Papa?”

“Probably easier for somebody doesn’t see you as often to notice.” She shot Julian a wink and giggled at the expression on his face. He huffed, but she nudged him with her shoulder, a gesture he reciprocated. The moment of levity lingered, but gave way to sobriety once more, becoming that thing dancing in the corner of the room without being recognized. She leaned against him and frowned, resting her head on his shoulder. “Why don’t you get out of the house anyway? Mama and Papa are driving you crazy.”

“I don’t know. It seems like I should have a different purpose in life than living in the city and factory work. Moving out means I have to stay at the factory.” He frowned as a reflex. “At least they gave me a week holiday for your visit.”

She issued a soft chuckle in response. “You aren’t going to find much better. You didn’t get enough schooling to do something else.”

“It isn’t the schooling. It’s just a feeling in my bones.”

“I know what you mean.” She paused, but this time, the silence was much more comfortable. Julian continued rocking them back and forth and Birgit fiddled with her hands, staring down at them while Julian gazed straight ahead. Of all the things which could have broken the silence, Julian hardly expected it to be the question Birgit issued. “Do you believe there’s more out there than just… us?”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “There are a lot more people than just us.”

“Dussel.” She reached up with one hand and slapped at his arm. “I meant other things in this world. Like the old stories told to us by Opa and Oma.”

“The wolf people in the woods?”

“Yes. Do you think anything like that actually exists?”

The question made his stomach sink. Julian tensed despite himself, attempting to mask the reaction while being unable to all at the same time. “Do you?” he finally asked, but in his mind, he found himself afraid she might actually say yes. His voice sounded small and uncertain, while usually being anything but.

She tensed, too, though Julian didn’t know if she recognized the trepidation he harbored or not. When a sigh escaped her lips, he shifted to face her, forcing her head to lift and her gaze to shift to the horizon. He frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”

“Yes, you did, Julian.” Her eyes shut, arms folding to huddle her coat close to her chest. When her lids lifted, she glanced heavenward, exhaling a breath which sounded both exasperated and upset. “The last time I visited home, Mama and Papa asked me if I was feeling any better and now, you’re getting funny on me just for posing a silly question.”

Julian frowned, one hand lifting to scratch his scalp. “Maybe if we saw you more often…”

“You’d what? Believe that I’m not as delusional as you think I am?” Her eyes glistened. “Out of all of them, you were the one I thought knew that the most.”

“What am I supposed to think when you’re asking about fairy tales?”

“A lot of sane, normal people believe in special things.  You haven’t seen enough of this world to be so skeptical.” Birgit rose to her feet, pacing toward the edge of the porch in a huff. She turned her back to Julian. “You were the one saying you’ve got ‘feelings in your bones’. Sometimes that’s why it happens. The spinning of the world isn’t just you and me, it’s everything around us, and sometimes we sense it even if we’re not sure what’s causing it.” A tuft of steam drifted past her lips, her head turning enough to show Julian her profile. “Forgive me for trying to help.”

It was the most insane thing his sister had ever suggested and yet, she sounded lucid while saying it. He rose to his feet and walked closer, palms raised. “So there are wolf people in forests and this is why I dislike my job at the factory?”

“Du bist so ein Vollidiot,” she said through clenched teeth. Birgit spun to face Julian, pushing a finger into his chest. “Stop being so thick.”

“Explain what you mean, then!”

“Never mind! You won’t get it.”

“I definitely won’t if you don’t explain it.”

She lifted her arms. “I mean everything’s connected. The trees, the birds, the humans, and the special things. You’ve seen how animals behave before bad weather, right?” When Julian nodded, she did as well and continued, arms lowering back to her sides. “It’s the same idea.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I still don’t understand how this proves there are things like wolf people.”

“Not wolf people, but other things. Other things like them.” She sighed, shaking her head as she looked away. “Look, just trust me when I say you’re not the only person that’s restless.”

“If you say so.”

While he issued the statement in concession, Birgit grumbled and turned for the door the moment he spoke it.  Julian reached for her hand, attempting to stop her, but as their fingers touched, a strange spark of electricity jumped from Birgit’s palm to Julian’s – invisible and yet palpable at once. Julian retracted his hand and Birgit shoved hers in her pocket, looking startled while disappearing inside the confines of the Reichlin house again.

Julian remained on the porch. Eyes fixed on the door as it swung shut, he furrowed his brow, staring first straight ahead before allowing himself a glance down at his hand. The skin looked just as calloused and blemished as it had before, though he expected at least a burn mark from how much of a jolt had been delivered from such a brief connection. It reminded him of a static shock, but in his gut, he knew this had been different.

He exhaled deeply and walked back to the porch swing, settling on it with his hand still extended awkwardly in front of him. Two years had passed; he had to remind himself of that again while being presented by the entirety of Birgit’s strange correspondence throughout the past decade. Places traveled; things experienced. Stories she could only half tell and scenarios which begged for further explanation when none was forthcoming. It could’ve all been some elaborate hallucination, but Julian had a hard time believing her school would’ve let her off grounds like this, progressive or not. Especially when she lacked the tell-tale signs of being medicated.

A frown surfaced in all its cynical glory. He wasn’t sure what logic was trying to tell him, but that nameless sensation which had circled around him in recent days surged to further prominence the longer he sat. Maybe Birgit was right; that there were other things in the world which contributed to the feeling of unease which had taken up permanent residence inside his soul.

Or maybe he just hoped life could be something more than ordinary.

Story Beginning | Next part available Friday, 7/29