There was a fragileness to the skies.  A disruption in the artwork of the night, may have shattered its entirety.  The hours were ticking by slowly, and I watched our dog, Hagen, lead my brother and I down unfamiliar paths.  Hagen’s round, button like nose, sniffed the air in a curious fashion, and his ears perked up to the sound of nocturnal creatures lurking along the forest’s edge.  Andy, only eleven years old, meandered down the entwining paths.

I looked behind me, “It’s getting late.  We should be heading back.”

Andy did not answer me, instead he steadied his pace.  Hagen seemed intent on following the scent he discovered, and was pulling Andy towards a nearby bush.  Andy slightly pulled Hagen backwards. 

“No, Hagen,” Andy tugged on the black leash.

Hagen resumed to dig his claws into the ground, trying to reach the bush.  Andy pulled him back once more. Hagen finally obeyed Andy's command.  He neared Andy, and placed his head beneath his palm.  Andy stroked the dog in rhythmic patterns, his tone softening, “It’s bad to pull me in whatever direction you want.  You know better than that.”

Andy resumed walking, and Hagen’s tail wagged as he walked beside him.  In the distance, I could hear the silent rumble of a stream.  The wind chime like quality of it made me think of home, and our kitchen which always smelled like brown sugar.  Andy was quickening in pace, which made me work a bit harder to catch up with him.

I placed my hand on Andy’s shoulder, “Slow down, Andy.  What’s wrong?”

Andy halted, and Hagen sat in between us.  Hagen stared up at me with wide, brown eyes, as Andy shrugged my hand off his shoulder.

“It’s your birthday today.  Why don’t we go home, and celebrate?” I said, while he turned his head towards the sound of the stream.

Suddenly, Hagen lunged towards an animal scurrying in the nearby brush.  Andy, unable to hold onto the leash any longer, let it go.  Hagen went running towards the hidden animal, disappearing into the night.  Andy stood, defeated on the trail.  The look on his face reminded me of an expression I once had when I lost my favorite baseball card.  He ran towards the brush, looking for Hagen, yet was incapable of finding him in the dark.

“Hagen!”  Andy called, a tremor to his voice.  “Hagen, come back!”

I looked up at the skies, “You’re not going to be able to find him in the dark.”

Andy tilted his head, “What was that?”

“Did you hear something?”  I asked, as Andy walked further down the foreign path.  “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Andy cupped his hands around his mouth, “Hello?  Is someone there?”

“Come on, Andy,” I noticed that the light radiating from the moon was barley evident due to the cascading trees.  “We should be getting back.”

Instead of listening to my advice, he walked on.  There was an eeriness to the night, and I was frightened to go any further.

I tried to grab Andy by the arm, but merely grazed the back of his jacket, “Andy, I don’t want to go any further.”

Andy shuddered, wrapping the jacket around himself tighter.  His footsteps seemed ambitious, as though he were intent on finding something.

There was a restricting feeling in my throat, and my mind began to spin.  I was apprehensive nearing the clearing before us, while Andy was eager to reach it.  His stubbornness reminded me of our father.  Andy was becoming the picture perfect image of him day by day.

The quickening of his footsteps drummed to the beat of my heart.  As we came towards the clearing, I saw a glaring light before us.  The light illuminated the woods, and held such purity that it vanquished all my fears. 

“Do you see that, Andy?” 

That was when I realized what Andy was looking for.  Memory came back to me, like a shooting star crossing the threshold of my mind.   The weathered car sat in the clearing, and Andy stood before it crying.

Andy placed his hands on the roof of the car, and asked, “Ryan, why did you have to go?”

He was no longer my eleven-year-old brother, but instead the age I was the day I left.  This was his sixteenth birthday.  It was the day my family laid roses on my grave.