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Her first and last memory of Elis was when she was young, her hair falling around her rounded cheeks, illuminating the redness of her chubby skin. She was in the hut with her mother, her father out on a hunting trip with the men of her village. He had been gone for three days. Sage didn't expect them to be back anytime soon.
Instead, she spent her time learning how to repair things around the hut. Her mother taught her to fix the hem of pants, to close a gaping hole in one of the nicer dresses that they would wear if they went to dinner at someone else's home. Sage loved learning about new things, even if her mother couldn't give her all the attention she needed because of Elis.
He was a sickly child, skin pale and clammy in the candlelit room. Her mother worried that he wouldn't make it through the winter when he was born, but he laid in his own bed five years later, caught with the flu.
Sage's mother had a damp cloth pressed against his head, and Sage glanced up from her work, gazing at the beads of sweat gathering at the base of his forehead.
For a moment, she wondered if this would be the time where they lost him. If his body would be too weak to fight the virus this time. Would this finally be the one to take him?
If he died, Mother would be most displeased. She would cry, and Sage would have to console her because Father did not care for either of his children. Only wished to be in the Castle, away from them all. They were all Mother had. It would be a shame if Elis were to die.
On the other hand, Sage did not care in the slightest. Elis was much too loud for her ears, his cries piercing as she grew up. He screamed a lot, too, whether it be from glee or heartache, his mouth was always open with a cry falling from it. If this sickness took him, the house would be much quieter.
She stared at him when she finished her dress. Mother went to fetch some more water from the well in the heart of the town; she wouldn't be back for a while. Sage was to watch him while she was gone.
His eyes were big as he stared at Sage, entranced by what her hands were doing. They almost glittered in the low light, rimmed in red from Elis rubbing them.
Sage stared back, her gaze unwavering. She folded the dress neatly, saying, "Mother will be back with more water soon."
He couldn't talk, voice hoarse from coughing so much, but he understood what she meant. He nodded with a tired grin on his face. Sage tore her gaze away from him, moving it across the room. There was a blanket in the corner that she could use to warm him up. He looked to be a bit cold.
When she brought it over to him, folding it over his body like a swaddle, he held out his hand. His silent gesture meant, "Stay."
Sage frowned. She preferred not to be around him if she could help it. He was sickly and loud and he gave her headaches at the wrong times. She had never wanted a sibling, but here one was, begging her to do something she did not desire to do.
