the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love
great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel

like nothing's changed at all?

Once upon a time, Brennen would never have imagined so many visits to the Jungle. Once, it had been only the Tundra. And then there’d been the Falls; he couldn’t leave the Tundra for anything but he took refuge in the peace he found under the waterfall. The people of the Falls were a special bunch. And the Deserts. He’d stumbled upon them the same way he stumbled upon her – now they always remind him of her. Now he’s added the Jungle to his list because they are here: Malka is not his the way Lucrezia and Neraza and Morphine were his, but they have Malyk and so he is here with a greater frequency than he could ever have imagined.

He never would have guessed any part of the Jungle might feel familiar to him. But it does – these edges, where he plants himself and calls and waits.

Malyk isn’t a child anymore, but like many of his half-brothers and half-sisters Brennen might always see him as something of a child. Still, he isn’t immune to noticing the boy’s growth, and his maturity, and he is proud to see it. And maybe he hasn’t been here as often as he’d like, but he’s been here to visit. He’s marveled at the birds and the animals and the plants alongside a child; smiled as Malyk figured out his wings; wondered always if the boy had inherited any of his…other traits. He might not know, living in the jungle; it’s not like there’s a lot of ice here to mess with, though he’s certain that the Jungle has its share of hidden bones.

Still, he wonders what his son might have to say today. That’s the thing about children – they’re always different, surprising, evolving.

brennen