Eyes of the Woods

by Eden Fierce

  “How?” I had asked. “How do you choose not to be afraid?”

  “Because they need us to end their suffering. There is no room for fear.”

  I didn’t understand it then, and I was still waiting.

  Father signaled for me to get into formation once more, and I paused. Father hadn’t harvested from the young ones before, so I wasn’t sure why I expected him to now. Maybe I was hoping the young one’s sacrifice would save the life of another nightwalker. One fewer harvest.

  I pulled my dagger from its sheath and turned toward the ravine. “Should I?”

  Father shook his head.

  “But—”

  “Eris, his little body has been defiled enough. Let him rest in peace.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  I pretended to look back once more to hide my relief.

  “Eris, stop it,” Clemens snapped. “It wasn’t human.”

  I glared at him. “He was. He was a little boy, Clemens.”

  He looked away. “Not anymore.”

  I couldn’t speak to him, for fear I would cry. As a daughter of the Priory, we couldn’t afford emotion. Tears were frowned upon. We received no special treatment. Keep up, or stay behind and tidy the home, and get married off sooner rather than later. The latter gave me the motivation I needed to continue hunting, even though I didn’t see the nightwalkers as others did.

  Instead of shedding tears, I gritted my teeth—not only out of frustration, but also because I felt so sorry for the boy and whoever loved him, and out of wondering how my brother could be so heartless.

  “I’ll carry him,” I whispered, lifting him in my arms.

  Father took a deep breath and began to argue, but instead he turned around and walked toward me, stopping only for a moment before lifting what was left of the young one. He cradled him gently, nodding for me to walk ahead.

  Clemens scowled at me.

  What? I mouthed.

  We watched Father stop at the first ragged rock, set the remains of the boy on the forest floor, and then pull a short shovel from his pack. He shoved it into the ground and jerked upward, pulling dead leaves, vines, and earth with it. The contents of the shovel flew up and over Father’s shoulder, and then he dug in again.

  Clemens shook his head. “If anyone had told me when I gathered the equipment that Father would be using the shovel to bury a nightwalker instead of digging a trap, I wouldn’t have believed him.”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” I said.

  “It’s disrespectful, asking him to bury one of…them.”

  “He was a boy once,” I whispered.

  Father picked up the young one, placed him in the hole, and then said a few words.

  Clemens took a step forward, and Father looked back.

  “Stay there, son.”

  Lukas’s lip quivered. “W-why would he do that? It’s sacrilege.”

  Clemens covered his mouth with his hand. “He’s lost his mind.”

  I craned my neck at my older brother, my entire body tense. “Don’t ever say that again.”

  “Eris,” Clemens began.

  I pointed my finger in his face. “He is your father. You will respect him.”

  Father appeared next to us, his brow dripping with sweat. He slowly lowered my finger from Clemens’s face.

  “He was a boy once,” Father said. “I prayed for his human soul, not for the headless animal in the hole.”

  I blinked, stepping aside as Father passed by. Clemens nodded, satisfied.

  Lukas patted me on the shoulder, encouraging me to follow as Father and Clemens walked away.

  We hunted all night, but found nothing. Father became increasingly frustrated, and as the dark became darker, he began cursing under his breath. No tracks, no broken branches—even the sound seemed to escape us.

  “Sunrise is in an hour,” I said. “Maybe we should pack it up?”

  Father let a frustrated growl simmer in his throat. “I don’t see our luck improving, do you, Clemens?”

  Clemens simply shook his head.

  “Just a while longer, Father?” Lukas pleaded.

  I elbowed my little brother. “If we go to bed now, we can wake up early and sit in the sun.” My small bit of encouragement was lost on Lukas, but the thought made me smile. Oh, how I loved the sun, even though I rarely saw it. The warmth spreading on my skin, the blinding light, the smell of sunshine. I wanted to bathe in it, breathe it in, and let it settle inside me. But there was never enough time in the sun. Not for us.

  The thoughts of warmth and light were snuffed out by screeching, maybe half a mile away. Clemens immediately drew his bow, as did my father. Lukas unsheathed his sword, holding it low and steady.

  I walked cautiously, leaving my daggers in their holsters on each of my thighs.

  “It’s just an animal,” Lukas said.

  “They’re feeding,” Clemens said.

  Father held his finger to his mouth, and motioned for us to continue. We moved in formation, soundless, ready for anything.

  Father glanced at me, and I caught the small smile that touched his lips for just a moment. It wasn’t lost on me that he was proud, knowing he didn’t have to worry; he had taught me to take care of myself.

  But what he didn’t know was how well I could pretend. How it was really Clemens, Lukas, and even Jonathan who killed more than I. The boys were so blind with pride, it was easy to feign that I was just a slow, weak girl who could never quite get to the nightwalker in time. The boys claimed victory over their kills. They were happy to take them from me.

  If Father thought about it, he’d realize I’d only killed a single nightwalker since I began hunting, and it was self-defense. He wouldn’t be proud if he knew the truth, so I let him believe that I understood my duty and carried it out with conviction, just as he did.

  “You’re getting soft,” Clemens said.

  I frowned. “Focus. It’s close.”

  The screeching was intermittent. It was definitely an animal. Just before we came within range, the noise stopped. Father pointed to a tree in the distance. Dark red drag marks could be seen partway up one tree, and then they stopped, beginning again at an adjacent tree.

  “They’re on the move,” Father whispered.

  “Good,” Clemens said.

  Father watched the pines for a moment. We listened to the woods, the breeze blowing through the leaves, and the doves cooing, their haunting call echoing through the Glades.

  “We’re finished for the night,” Father said, unhappy.

  We began retracing our steps, heading home.

  Clemens let his crossbow rest on his shoulder. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “You were upset about that boy.”

  “My apologies. It was my first decapitation.”

  “False,” Clemens said.

  “I’m not used to seeing the young ones. Watching that man hack off its head wasn’t upsetting…it was disturbing.” My heart beat a little harder in my chest. I wasn’t sure why I felt so defensive.

  “It’s okay, you know,” Clemens said. “I’ve always known how you felt. You used to want to be one of them.”

  “What?” I said in disbelief.

  Clemens chuckled. “It’s true. You don’t recall?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Vaguely.” It was a lie. I remembered like it was just hours ago.

  I had been just four or five, with my yellow dress twirling around me as I danced around the fireplace. The flames cast shadows on the wood, flicking around like the tongues of a thousand devils. They had seemed to thrash at the stone walls of the hearth, reaching out, trying to escape. Shadows had swayed on the walls, seeming to dance with me. Father had been resting in his chair, his belly full with dinner. He laughed and clapped when I would bow, and then smiled when I would start again.

  Lukas had been fast asleep in Mother’s arms, so when I was finally out of breath, I had crawle
d up into Father’s lap. He hugged me to him, and I felt so safe and warm in his arms.

  “Father, I want to be a nightwalker,” I had said.

  Father’s shocked expression had matched Mother’s, but neither deterred me.

  “I could run so fast, I would win all the races at the Vileon Festivals”—at the time I didn’t know what Vileon was made out of—“and I could hear a butterfly on the moon! I would catch it for you, Father, and bring it back.”

  Mother had gasped and put her hand over her heart. The line that always appeared between Father’s eyes when he was cross was deeper than I’d ever seen it.

  His voice boomed when he finally spoke. “Eris, don’t ever say that again! Do you understand me?”

  Lukas had startled awake and began to cry. Mother tried to soothe him.

  My lip had quivered. What had I done to make him sound like that? Tears had welled up in my eyes.

  He had sighed and hugged me to him. I sniffed, resting my head on his chest, listening to his soothing heartbeat as he rocked me back and forth, patting me on the back.

  “Eris, nightwalkers are sad people. They’re dangerous. If you were one of them, you couldn’t live at home with us. You don’t want that, do you?”

  I had shaken my head.

  “If you were…one of them, you would attack Clemens, or even little Lukas.”

  I had gasped and had shaken my head furiously. “No! I won’t eat Lukas or Clemens! Even if he calls me a weed!”

  “But you wouldn’t be able to control it. That’s why we must end their suffering. They want us to,” he had said, tapping my nose lightly.

  He had sat me on the ground and then stood, watching Mother lay Lukas in his crib. Father had cupped her shoulders and then hugged her to his chest once, kissing her temple.

  “All right, love,” Mother had said. “It’s time for you to get to bed. Clemens, you too.”

  Clemens whined.

  Father had looked down on me, the shadows from the fire dancing across his face. “Do you still want to be a nightwalker, Eris?”

  I had shaken my head. “No, no, no.”

  “That’s a good girl.”

  I lifted my chin, the memories from that night still replaying in my mind, even as we reached the edge of the forest.

  Father disappeared behind the thick foliage that bordered the woods, then Clemens, and then Lukas.

  I paused, feeling something was watching me again. I turned quickly, placing my hand on the grip of one of my daggers. The trees swayed gently in the early-morning wind. I could smell rain. A storm was brewing.

  Lukas ducked his head out from behind the trunk of a tree. “Eris? You coming?”

  My eyes pored over the branches, the forest floor, and everything in between.

  “Do you ever feel like we’re being watched, Lukas? Toyed with?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, nervous. “Should I?”

  I shook my head. “I think I’m just tired and hungry. Let’s go home,” I said, following him out.

  As we made our way to the house, the young nightwalker stayed on my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about who would miss him—if they missed one another at all.

  Mother waved at us as we breached the front gate.

  “How’s Jonathan?” Dad asked after hugging and kissing Mother. She sighed, crossing her arms.

  “He’s unhappy that he missed the hunt.”

  “He didn’t miss much,” Clemens said.

  Mother hugged her eldest son. “Welcome home, dear boy.” Clemens bent down a bit for her to kiss his forehead. She wiped her hands on the dirty apron wrapped around her waist and then repeated the process with Lukas.

  Mother’s golden hair was always pulled back in a long braid and then wrapped around in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her sharp features complemented her piercing blue eyes. My tresses resembled hers, but mine were wavy like Father’s. Everyone in the village had told me since I could remember that I was a perfect copy of Mother. I took it as a compliment, because she was the epitome of beauty, but our physical resemblance was where it ended. The hem of Mother’s skirt was never stained with mud from wandering, like mine always seemed to be. She had dreamed of her betrothal since she was a girl, and I had dreaded it.

  When it was my turn, she kissed my forehead, and squeezed me to her chest. “Welcome home, my sweet girl.”

  “We didn’t have much luck tonight,” I said.

  “Shame,” she said, winking at me. Her arm slid across my back, and she cupped my shoulder, guiding me inside. The wrinkles around her eyes seemed deeper, the circles beneath them darker.

  “Dinner is on the table,” she called to the boys. “I need Eris in the kitchen for a bit.”

  She guided me past the kitchen to the pantry. The servants all seemed to notice we were having a private conversation and made themselves scarce.

  “Your betrothal…,” she began.

  I sighed. “Mother, not today. I’m tired.”

  She laughed quietly. “If not today, then when? It’s just a few days away.”

  “What about it?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you had the ceremony memorized. It’s so important that traditions are followed, especially for a daughter of the Priory, and—”

  “Mother?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ve spoken to me about this day since I was seven. I’ve watched dozens and had it memorized for years. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

  She gave my dirty clothes and dagger holsters a once-over. “You’re sure?”

  “I promised, didn’t I?”

  She smiled, at ease. “I trust you.”

  I kissed her cheek and then joined Father and my brothers at the table. Father winked.

  “Your mother is nervous,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  “She needn’t be.”

  “You’re not like she was, you know. She has trouble understanding you.”

  “I know,” I said, taking a sip of the soup that sat before me. “She’s not the only one.”

  Jonathan frowned. “I’d rather stand up on a stage in front of the whole village in a dress than miss a hunt.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” I snapped back.

  “It’s not fair,” he whined. “Eris will be betrothed soon. She should have to stay home with Mother. Let me go.”

  My head slowly turned to Jonathan. “Did you just say I should stay home because I’m a girl?”

  He shook his head quickly. “No.”

  “Good. Because I’ve beat Lukas for less.”

  Soup nearly shot from Clemens’s nose, and he and Lukas shook with laughter, but Lukas stopped, looking insulted when he realized I meant I’d bested him in a fight before…which was true.

  Father cleared his voice, and we all sat up, stiff.

  “Let’s enjoy the meal that has been prepared. Respect the good fortune that has been bestowed upon us.” His voice was formal, but he was trying very hard to keep a straight face.

  Mother came in and sat down, completing the sign of the cross. We did the same. “Bless us, Father. Amen.”

  In unison, we echoed her prayer.

  “Dyre?”

  “Yes, darling?”

  “Keep Eris close next time.”

  “Is it the dreams again?” Father asked, pausing midbite.

  She simply nodded, and he silently agreed.

  A broad smile spread across Jonathan’s face for just a moment before Father’s stern glare erased it away.

  MY BELLY FULL WITH STEW AND BREAD, I lay lazily by the hearth, picking the stickers and pieces of dried leaves from my hair and clothes. The first signs of morning were filtering in through the dirty windows.

  Clemens sat a few feet away, poking at his teeth with a toothpick. “Do you want to know whom Father has chosen?”

  The satisfied smile on my face vanished. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Of course no.”

  “Very well then. I thought you
might.”

  “You were wrong,” I said in a final tone.

  Clemens turned onto his side, supporting his head with his hand. “He’ll be good for you. He’s the gentle sort. He’ll allow you to continue your hunts if you wish.”

  “Allow me? If I wish?” A disgusted grunt came from my throat. “As if any man could stop me.”

  Clemens’s teasing grin softened. “He’ll treat you well, Eris. Father kept that in mind.”

  “It doesn’t matter, brother. I’m still given away. As property. Without a choice.” I sighed. “You wouldn’t understand. Your bride wouldn’t even understand. She wasn’t given to you. You chose each other.”

  He nodded. “We were lucky, Emelen and I.” Clemens thought about that a moment and then sat up. “Do you remember when we were little? The silly contests we would have?”

  The corners of my mouth turned up.

  “Come on. Look at me.”

  “A staring contest? Are you ten again?”

  “Just do it.”

  I pushed myself off the floor, and sat cross-legged, facing him.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “What will I win?”

  “Desserts for a week.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s not a contest. That’s war.”

  “Do you accept the wager or not?”

  I wasn’t planning on watching my brother stuff my chocolate pie in his mouth.

  “One,” I said.

  “Two,” he continued.

  “Three!”

  We both remained still, our eyes open. Clemens’s eyes twitched, but he didn’t blink. The whites turned a bit pink, and then his eyes began to water.

  “Give up, Eris. I’ll never blink.”

  I smiled. I could already see him struggling. “Sure you will, Clemens. Just wait.”

  A knock at the door made Clemens jump. He blinked, and I pointed at him with a wide grin.

  “Your desserts are now mine, brother!” I exclaimed.

  He turned around to see who was responsible for his catastrophic loss.

  Lukas walked in, raising his eyebrows and suppressing a grin. “A staring contest? Are you ten again?”

  Clemens and I both chuckled.

  Lukas came to sit next to me. He struggled to coordinate his long legs. Although he was next to youngest, he was taller than Clemens and I. He had inherited his size from our grandfather, and few boys in our village challenged him. I, however, wasn’t intimidated. Before he could sit, I jumped on his back, wrapping my arms around his neck. He spun, trying to throw me off, but I interlocked my fingers, refusing to let go. The corners of Lukas’s mouth turned up in a mischievous grin, and then he backed up to the wall, smashing me between his large frame and the wood.