Silas's bedroom was simple and neat. We settled onto his bed without speaking, both lying on our backs and staring at the ceiling. The sheets smelled like him, and I found comfort in that.
The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but heavy with thoughts neither of us were voicing.
"When I was twelve," Silas broke the silence, "my brother went missing."
I turned my head to look at him. His profile was outlined in the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. His eyes still fixed on the ceiling.
"You never told me you had a brother," I muttered softly. In all our time together, Silas had never once mentioned having siblings. He'd never shared anything about his family at all. I'd almost started to believe he was an orphan, which would explain his complete devotion to my grandfather and our household.
"Sam. He was five." There was a weight to how he said it. "It was summer vacation. I'd been begging my parents to let me ride my bike around town alone." He paused, his chest rising with a deep breath.
Parents. So he had those too. I felt a strange mixture of emotions. There's curiosity about this suddenly revealed past, and a subtle hurt that he'd kept this part of himself hidden from me for so long.
"They finally said yes. Made me promise to stay on certain streets, and be back by lunch– all the usual rules. I was so excited to have that freedom." His voice grew quieter. "I didn't know Sam had followed me on his little blue bike."
I shifted onto my side, facing him fully now. His jaw was tight, the memory clearly still painful after all these years.
"I only realized he was gone when I got home and my mother asked where he was. I told her he'd never been with me." Silas swallowed. "The look on her face... I'll never forget it."
"Silas..." I reached out and placed my hand on his arm.
"Everyone searched. Police, neighbors, volunteers. Hours passed until it got dark." He finally turned his head to meet my eyes. "I blamed myself completely. If I hadn't gone out, if I'd noticed him following me... all these what-ifs that seemed to prove it was my fault."
"What happened next?" I asked. His hand found mine in the darkness, and our fingers intertwined.
"He came back. Walked right up to our front door nearly thirty hours later. He was covered in scratches and dirt, hungry and exhausted... but alive."
I squeezed his hand. "Where had he been?"
"He'd tried to follow me but got lost in the woods on the edge of town. That kid spent the night huddled under a fallen tree. He was so small, Aurora. Five years old in the woods alone overnight, and somehow he found his way back."
The meaning behind his story didn't escape me. He turned onto his side now, mirroring my position, our faces close in the darkness.
"Your grandfather is a grown man. He's resourceful, intelligent. If my little brother could find his way home..." He left the rest unsaid.
Tears pricked at my eyes. "Then why haven't we heard anything? It's been days, Silas."
His thumb brushed across my knuckles. "I don't have all the answers. But tomorrow we'll go to the city, and you'll see what's being done to find him. I know it's hard, but try to hold onto hope."
I nodded, a tear escaping despite my efforts. Silas gently wiped it away with his thumb.
"When Sam came home," Silas continued, his voice softer now, "he had this wild story about a friendly fox that showed him which way to go. For years, I thought he'd made it up to cope with being lost and afraid." A small smile touched his lips. "But sometimes I wonder..."
"If there really was a fox?"
"If sometimes we get help from places we'd never expect." His eyes held mine. "Your grandfather isn't alone out there, Aurora. There are people looking for him. And maybe even things we can't explain working in his favor."
I moved closer and rested my head against his chest. His arm wrapped around me, pulling me into the solid warmth of him. I couldn't help but wonder what else I didn't know about this man who had become so important to me. How many other stories was he keeping locked away? What had shaped him into the person I knew.
"Thank you," I whispered against his skin.
His hand stroked gently through my hair. "For what?"
"For telling me that story. For letting me in here."
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Try to sleep now. I've got you."
For the first time since the news of my grandpa's disappearance, I felt the knot in my chest loosen. As I drifted toward sleep in Silas's arms, I held onto the image of a small boy following a fox through the woods, finding his way home against all odds.