~Desirae Wilson.

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1989~

The boy knew not what to do, all this was strange, fateful. So mistreated, he emerged, down on his knees, he stood. Watching as she removed herself from the void. Part of him wanted to go on, but that was the way he was, the way he always had been.

She came, off-track, and almost quick to shatter. He knew who she was, but also he knew nothing. A soft knowledge that was almost built into him, Love; and so he waited for her, for Vilandra. She stood beside him, the same feelings came toward him, her brother, her guardian; Zan.

It was cold, a feeling that their naked bodies were just beginning to feel. But that did not stop them. Like runaways they ran. To the door and through handprints they were released to the world beyond the old ones. They were weepers to the night. These children crying ever so softly for a love that they left behind.

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```` Strength stayed behind, like a wall the boy of secrecy watched on the cliffs, his sharp, hidden body was mesmerized by their movements in the dark, he could see them well from the top. He sought to come, but he did not, he was afraid, but he wasn't.

He asked himself to go but he did not, he could not. He wanted to run to her; Vilandra, to be with her once more, but he could not, he should not, Rath knew it inside of himself. He knew.

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It was late, all three of them knew that. A shattering moon broke in front of their eyes. Vilandra, and Zan came close to the shadow, too close, and Rath had to reveal himself to them. He moved and they saw. Vilandra and Zan watched as the boy stood, his body frigid and wanting on a rock. Standing tall, standing firm. They knew who he was just as he knew who they were. All three of them watched each other for a moment, confirming that it was really them, and knowing that it was.

Zan held out his hand, waiting for Rath to take it. He hesitated for a moment but then took it with firmness. He was always like that, Vilandra thought. Zan helped Rath off the rock, to stand beside them. They both looked at Vilandra, and she smiled. Reaching her hands out she hugged him, holding him tightly When released she pulled his tall head down and kissed his forehead, then reached out to her brother and did the same thing, she turned then, looking for one more, but seeing no-one she turned back.

A light, piercing and warm air came from afar. Vilandra, and Zan turned to it, following it. Zan held his hand out for Rath to take, but he didn't. He stood hiding inside himself. Like a touch stone Vilandra needed him and she turned back to him from her walk. but when she motioned he did not follow and with the screech of brakes he hid in the shadows of the ruthless night. Like a bird he watched.

They heard a sound, a language that they did not understand. They stood, neither Zan nor Vilandra were frightened for they both understood that like this they would not be harmed. And with that thought came a gentle peace, both Vilandra and Zan looked back to try to find Rath, but he was gone, and company to the shadows now.

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It was morning when the two children found themselves at the orphanage. Zan and Vilandra huddled into the clothes that they were loaned. Vilandra in blue overalls with a pink shirt, and Zan in jeans and a black shirt that was at least two sizes too big, he was very skinny after all. They both were propped up to a doctors table, they sat next to each other holding the other's hand tightly. As the seconds passed by, a woman entered. Cropped curly blond hair, about 60, and weighing about 160, she was short, but had a loving smile on her face. She knelt down on the floor, meeting eyes with the two children. "Could you two tell me your names," she asked.

The two small faces widened as she spoke, they understood, but said nothing. They were two frightened to reveal themselves. Vilandra clasped her brothers hand tighter, and tighter and brought herself closer to his side. Whispering in her mind to him. "Should we speak?"

"NO" she heard back. And so she said nothing.

"Do you two have names?" the woman asked again, but still no answer. A moment passed and she asked another question. "What about your parents name, you father, your mother?"

"Mother." Vilandra said aloud softly, the nurse looked at her as did Zan. Her eyes fell silent as she felt her brother glare with old eyes. She went silent again.

"Do you know your mother's name, honey?" the nurse asked again, but no answer from either. "OK." The nurse began again. "Thank you, and don't worry." She lightly passed her soft hand over Vilandra's cheek. "We will find your mother."

Vilandra was aglow inside, she wanted and needed the queen, she needed her mother.

Later that day, another woman different from the nurse by her brown hair and slightly younger face, held both hands with the children, leading them through the Orphanage and showing them the different rooms. She led Zan to one of the bedrooms, it was huge and had about 16 beds to it, and 15 boys of ages ranging from 5 to 10. She led him in, and to a bed with white sheets that looked as though it had never been slept in. The woman let go of his hand and helped him up to the bed. "This is your bed now, OK, and if you need anything, you can ask one of the other boys or come talk to one of us." With that she turned and began walking away, still holding his sisters hand. Zan watched in silent empathy as she kept walking, and left through the white door that they had come.

The Woman later showed Vilandra into one of the girls rooms, only this one was empty and silent, no echoes over the walls. She showed Vilandra to a bed exactly like the one that Zan had, with white sheets and a clean exterior that looked as if it had never been slept in. "The other girls are in the Art room, do you want to go join them." Vilandra said nothing, she went to her bed and pulled herself onto it, she sat with wild eyes looking at the woman and she joined Vilandra on the bed. "Your such a beautiful little girl," The Woman began. "You look just like my Isabel did."

"Who." Vilandra asked.

"My daughter." The women said with a smile. "She looked exactly like you. She was 6, like you, when she died."

"How." Vilandra asked again.

"Cancer, she died about 6 years ago."

Vilandra felt her pain, she to had lost a child. She lifted herself up and wrapped her arms around the woman. "What's your name," the women pleaded.

"Isabel."

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That night, when a moon lit the Orphanage in artificial light, Isabel played while all the other children slept. She squatted on the floor, and with her hand glowing she silently lifted a little ball up and down in the air not using her hands to continue it. Humming old songs in her mind. Zan must have heard her because he came in some time after. In their minds they spoke, not wanting to wake anyone up. "They call me Max now."

"They call me Isabel."

Isabel brought herself to her feet and waltzed to the window, an old dance, and looking out into the soft crimson night she asked. "Where do you think they are."

"Who." Max wondered.

"Mother and Father, do you think they'll come for us, or leave us here?"

"They wanted us to be safe." Max persisted.

Isabel turned looking back at him, he was now sitting upright on her bed. She walked to him and sat besides. "I miss them," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder and snuggling to her brother. A tear almost falling from her cheek.

"I know."

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