Brother

The first time was when Father casted a tickling charm on him as punishment for skipping their morning training session; I must have been five or so, still unaware of how Levi must have felt when I teased him for it. The second time was one of the last times he and I spoke to each other, on some rather unremarkable evening in the weeks leading up to his sudden departure. I had been late getting home from playing with the neighborhood boys and decided to take a shortcut. Mother would have surely told me off for disregarding her stern warnings, but even at that age I was cunning enough to figure out that the punishment for breaking my promise to be home before dinner would be nearly as bad as the one I would get for going through the small woods alone. Saving a few minutes with a low risk of being caught was, therefore, an easy choice to make for ten-year-old me. Even though I was afraid of the dark, and the days grew shorter as winter drew near.