A Day in the Forest (IV)
You tighten your grip around the dagger and spit out the blood in your mouth. You know what you need to do. And then, you launch yourself at the beast. It whirls around, claws slicing through the air to meet you. You manage a near miraculous dodge, ducking under the swipe, and cling onto the black limb. Letting out a hoarse cry, you stab at the limb furiously with the dagger. Again and again you desperately drive the blade into its flesh. Glowing red blood spurts forth, and the beast makes a screeching squeal.
It smashes you into the ground, almost knocking you out from the impact, but you refuse to let go, continuing to stab away as if you were possessed. The beast slams you against the dirt, against the trees, over and over, but you do not stop. You stab, and then you hack, and when its paw is half severed, hanging limply from the main limb by black tendrils stained with red, the beast raises you high into the air, its maw gaping wide. You swing your body around to try and avoid its jaws. But to no avail. The beast’s fangs close around your lower left leg, biting through flesh and bone. It tries to pull you away from its limb – feeling the strain on your leg, you have no choice but to let go.
You hang limply by your leg, blood trickling over your face, gasping for breath. Your helplessness causes the beast to pause for a while. Its many eyes are all focused on you, and you can feel a dark malice in them. It is considering how best to kill you. For some reason, you feel that is what it is thinking.
Letting out another scream, you bend your body upwards, and sink your dagger into one of its eyes. The beast squeals again, letting your leg fall free… and then, it explodes. It becomes a formless shadow, a mass of writhing black tendrils and countless eyes, shrieking cacophonously as if there were dozens if not hundreds of it, screaming all at the same time in jangled, discordant screeches, so loudly that it almost drives you insane. Pain, confusion, and anger not of your own fill your mind. The tendrils swarm towards you mindlessly, and you hack away at it with your dagger, screaming back at the beast with equal ferocity. Tendrils wrap around your dagger arm and you bite into them, tearing away with your teeth. You drive your blade into an eye and sink your fingers into another, as if plucking them all out will end this nightmare.
You have no idea how long you fought, but the fight ends as suddenly as it had begun. The darkness flattens, becoming a shadow on the ground, and it recedes away into the forest. You stand alone amidst the subsiding flames, soaked in blood. The end of the battle brings with it relief, and you cannot help but to succumb to it. Strength leaves your body and you crumple to the ground.
But you only allow yourself a few moments of respite before you crawl back up. You haven’t forgotten why you did this. Grimacing and groaning, you stumble forward on your hands and knees. Your left leg is ruined and you’re unable to stand. Slowly, but surely, you fight through the pain and exhaustion to reach the fallen woman. She’s lying face down, still cradling the child beneath her.
You turn her over, and gasp. Her pale, bloodless face is possessed of an ethereal beauty that you have never known, never imagined could exist. The sight burns itself into your young heart. The woman had long, golden hair, matted with blood, and was dressed in fine – if bloodied – robes smoother than any fabric you have ever felt. Her beauty aside, however, the strangest thing about her had to be her ears. They were rather long, and pointed, compared to your own. As if entranced, you reach out to touch them.
A small moan makes you pause. The woman’s eyes flutter open – they are a brilliant blue – and her lips part. She begins speaking haltingly in a language that you have never heard, and she grabs your sleeves. She turns her gaze towards the child she had been protecting, muttering some word that sounds like “rain” to you. Then, her eyes glaze over. You know the look – you have seen it before on countless deer as they bed down to die, bleeding out from your arrows. The woman takes a deep breath, then a second. And she moves no more.
You have no idea exactly how old the baby is, but it is looking up at you with clear green eyes. Short blonde locks cover the top of its head, and its ears are just as pointed as the dead woman’s. The last baby you had seen up close was… it would have been before your parents died. Before your younger sister died. How long ago was that? Your memories are vague – you cannot even remember their faces; only that they existed.
The baby waves its stubby little hands in the air. You extend a hand, and reflexively, it grabs onto your blood-stained little finger. And even though you must look like a ghastly mess right now, it smiles at you.
***
A. A new feeling wells up within you. It is indescribable to you right now, but you allow yourself to express it freely. You can’t help but smile, despite your current condition.
B. You begin to feel something new that you cannot describe, but you resist the urge to let that feeling show on your face. You keep your expression impassive.
C. You feel nothing. Despite attempting to save the woman and this child, you feel nothing but emptiness at its touch.
***
After some time, you get around to digging a grave for the woman. Despite your busted leg, you make decent progress, and manage to get to a good depth just as the sun reaches its zenith. All the while, the baby has been looking at you without making a sound. You slowly roll the woman inside, being unable to lift her in your injured state. Then, you get to filling in the grave. There was nothing to identify the woman or the child, except for a silver pendant that had been hanging around the baby’s neck. It was intricately decorated with the crest of a stylized tree, though you have no idea what that meant.
Your work doesn’t end there, however. By the time you have fashioned a make-shift crutch and laid down a marker for the dead, the sun is on its way down. It’s about time you headed back too. Your master will not be pleased.
You pick up the baby gingerly, cradling it in one arm. It clings on to you, making what seems to be a satisfied noise. Leaning on your crutch in the other arm, you begin the long trek home.
***
As you reach the shack where you have been living for years, you see your master sitting outside the door – his usual hangout when he bothers to be here. He has another hut down in the village, where he spends much of his time. A few empty bottles are scattered in front of him; he has been drinking again.
Upon seeing you, he stands, the furs wrapped around him swaying. His grizzled old countenance is, as usual, extremely displeased. Perhaps a lot more than usual this time, seeing as you have come back injured and without any prey.
“Where’s your animals, boy?” he grunts, glaring at you.
“Not today.” You look down guiltily.
Your master casts an eye over your wounds without a word, before his gaze settles on the baby. Without asking, he grabs the baby from you. It begins to cry as soon as it leaves you.
“What’s this? You went playing around instead of doing your fucking work?”
“No, I…” The words don’t come to your mouth easily. After all, your master is right. He sent you into the forest to work and you didn’t. You can hardly justify yourself.
He snorts. “Hmph. Maybe I can sell the kid and this bauble for something, at least.” His eyes glint greedily as he spots the silver pendant. “Stay put, boy. I’ll be back tomorrow once I check about a buyer for this little shit. It’s a pretty little thing and those weird pointy ears might go for a higher price.”
“But-“
You should not have said that. You know how much he hates that word. The moment it leaves your mouth, you are met with a backhand, sending you crashing to the ground.
“But fucking shut up. I didn’t raise you to say buts,” he growls. “Who fed and clothed you for the past five years? Just do what I tell you to do.”
Your master sets out for the village grumpily, leaving you alone with the baby. It calms down as soon as he leaves and you have taken it back into your arms.
***
A. You do not want the baby to be sold. You decide to take a stand and argue with your master when he returns, probably the next morning. You have never asked him for anything in your life – surely if you are serious enough, he will understand.
B. You decide to take matters into your own hands. He might have raised you, but you do not feel like you owe him much of anything. You escape with the baby tonight. There is another village a day’s trek away. Once you get some food for the baby, you will begin your journey.
C. You cannot refuse your master. He saved you, raised you, fed you and clothed you. You owe him your current life and if he decides to sell the baby, that is his prerogative. After all, you returned without prey. He has the right to claim his due from you for today’s fiasco.