Perhaps the best part of this break is connecting with the emotional shit I actually had time to open up. From the start of my journey some time ago, I have been skittish and terrified, constantly looking over my shoulder for the ghosts of my past. My reprieve in this hole is that I’ve had ample time to sort through my thoughts and emotions. In these two days, I have accepted–as much as I can, anyway–my shitty and unfortunate circumstances. I have had time to analyze why my life got this way and who I can blame so my anger has a much-needed outlet.
I had always been afraid to let my anger consume me, this anger. I was afraid I couldn’t come back. I was afraid I wouldn’t be me anymore. But, I am no longer afraid. I don’t want to come back anymore. I don’t want to be me anymore. I can’t be me anymore. My old life is gone and there is nothing I can do to change that. I need to adapt. I need to embrace this new life in order to get stronger, to prevent something like this from happening to me ever again.
With my acceptance, it was like a flood of emotion swept through and the sudden surge of uncontrollable anger took me by surprise. In my fit, I had torn apart the cave. I raged and screamed for hours; what I yelled, I can’t recall. I vented everything I had bottled up until my exhaustion won and I slept against the wall.
I had woken feeling rested for once. My dreams were less frequent and my thoughts far less scattered. The past was not on repeat in my head as often as before. A tentative peace has managed to stick around much longer than any time since my escape.
Now that I reached the point where I can walk without pain and with only slight discomfort, I plan to head out after breakfast. I already gathered everything I’ll need into the pack and laid it by the entrance to the cave. Before I laid down to rest last night, I also mapped out my next course. There’s a small village, called Nahann, just a few days out and it’s in the opposite direction from the town Lori mentioned. Lori said that Craforian was a place for both humans and Them, but I just don’t see how that is possible. There has to be more to it than that. These two groups just don’t mix. I’m staying clear unless absolutely necessary.
I douse the flames with the dirty water in the pail and shoulder my pack. I slip the last loaf of bread from the side pouch and munch as I leave the cave. A few hours earlier I had wondered outside to take care of some business and noted the time. The sun was still some ways off from rising, but now it’s just beginning to peak over the horizon. With a sigh, I start my journey once more.
Chapter 6
I finally arrived at the village of Nahann. The sun in the sky tells me it’s around mid-morning, too early to venture closer and scan the town. Since my last encounter with a human village, I’ve decided it’s better to be exceptionally cautious. Another encounter like that could mean permanent imprisonment or death. There is no guarantee another villager will aid my escape either. Waiting until dusk gives me ample coverage in the shadows to learn the layout of the town. Then, I can narrow down the location with the best pickings.
The idea of stealing provisions bothers me more than I care to admit. However, I can’t afford to let my conscience win. If I do, I won’t survive. I ran out of food two days ago, and my body is already weak from the trek here. The journey here was only supposed to take a couple days, but I grossly underestimated the strain it would have on me. I figured the strength I gained in the cave would carry me longer than it did, and that miscalculation set me back further than I liked.
Hunting proved to be highly unsuccessful. I learned the hard way that target practice is pointless with live prey. Most shots had missed, and those that did connect never slowed the creatures down enough to catch. Yesterday, I finally come to the hard decision to steal food from the town I was nearing. I had to be careful. There would be no explaining myself out of that mess if they caught me.
I stash my supplies in a nearby tree, making sure that it remains high in the tree out of sight. I slip my bow and quiver over my shoulder and tiptoe to the edge of town. Once there, I hide myself in the shadows of a giant dol tree. I crouch down, waiting. This town looks like the last one, with at least one noticeable difference. Unlike the well-kept homes of the last village, the dwellings here are dilapidated and near ruin. Boards are missing from the walls and roofs, almost as if they snapped in the wind. The villagers’ attire is in the same state as their homes: dirty and worn. The faces of these people are haggard and old.
Most surprising of all, though, is the state of the plaza and town hall. The town hall represents wealth and power for the entire village. So much care and attention go into the upkeep of the center piece of each town. Yet, in this town, it looks like the villagers give no attention to their hall and plaza. The stones in the plaza are broken and uneven, like a giant mazir—a giant creature with eight legs—swept through the ground and upended the tiles in a flurry. The hall itself is in much the same condition as the surrounding dwellings, broken and in disarray.
As I survey this town, I second guess my decision to steal from them. The longer I look, it becomes increasingly obvious this village is struggling with their finances and likely has been for years. Yet I can’t allow myself to be influenced by their circumstances. I need food.
I won’t get to the nearest village for at least a week, and I need something to tide me over until I find other means to support myself. I grudgingly made the decision to steal; I can’t allow myself to sway. Beside from the looks of it, the fields are faring well. A handful of townspeople are working in the fields, and their baskets are full.
Maybe the state of their town isn’t a good indication of their wares or livelihood. Coin comes from the market, not the village production of goods. Perhaps this town trades within itself rather than risking outside barter. If that’s the case, then food shouldn’t be a problem here.
I’ll steal a small amount today and come back for more later. They might not even notice anything is missing. I’m only going to take what I need and nothing more.
Dusk arrives fairly quickly and before I know it, it’s time to make my move. I had most of the day to ponder and plan. I deliberated over everything again and again while nerves and guilt ate away at me. Despite what I told myself, nothing could shave off the guilt wedging its way into my stomach. Telling yourself theft is necessary and actually believing it are two very different things.
I hastily tuck my shirt in my pants and push off from behind the tree Keeping my steps light and my breathing muted, I crouch low as I move through the shadows to a nearby field. My eyes dart everywhere in search of any townsperson still lingering outside. Although I had watched them all leave for home, I’m paranoid.
I crouch near the outer edge of the field and pull out the cloth in my pocket. My heart pounds in my chest and the blood rushes in my ears. After a quick glance around the field, I reach for the latch to the wooden crate. All day I watched the villagers empty their full baskets of food into this crate. My best guess is that they are storing the produce in this container until the entire field has been cleared.
Luckily, the latch isn’t secured with a chain or lock. Instead a metal pin is in place and just needs to be slid out before opening. As I begin to pull, my body tenses. My palms are sweaty and I bite my lower lip. Please don’t catch me. After what feels like hours, I remove the pin and carefully lift the top of the crate. I cringe at the small squeak from the hinges attached to the back. I freeze, ensuring I remain alone in the darkness. My eyes dart back and forth, but I see no movements and continue my mission.
After a moment of hesitation, I decide to hold the top rather than fold it all the way back. I need to get away quickly, and reaching for the top would only slow me down. I peek at the choices and grab some vegetables—two veltos, three small grans, and one large arb. After wrapping them in cloth, I stuff them down my shirt and close the top of the crate.
Once the pin back in place, I peer around me once more. The coast remains clear and I set off for the tree line. Hearing and seeing nothing, I jog back to my hidin
g spot with my food. My theft went unnoticed—for tonight.
Before arriving at the borders of the village earlier this morning, I searched the area for a good resting place for the next few days. My chosen spot was far enough from the village that if someone were to come looking, I’d have ample time to clear out.
My camp was a small area surrounded by large dol trees at the front. At the back was a cliff face with a small dip in the ground for me to climb in and sleep. The crevice extends along the cliff face for quite a distance before emptying into a small stream. It’s perfect to hid my tracks.
I set my pack against the cliff and pull out the blanket. I remove the cloth of food from my shirt and empty the contents into the pack. Once that’s done, I slip the bow and quiver from my back and stand them next to the pack. Wrapped in the blanket, I curl up against my pack and try to will my mind to rest.
All I can think about is the guilt of stealing and how angry I am at myself for it. Why has my life turned to this? I need the food but it’s still not right. My parents would be so disappointed in me. That thought crushes me and pushes the air from my lungs in a rush. Tears well in my eyes and I squeeze them shut. Finally, I push the tears and negative thoughts away.
I eventually drift off with only the sounds of the swaying trees to lull me to sleep.
Chapter 7
The metal slab stings my near naked flesh. It’s ice cold and stone hard. I can’t move. Something pins my body to the table. The metal walls are bare, only rusty splatters line the walls. I cringe and try not to think too much about what those could be, though I have my suspicions.
The metal table I’m on sits in the center of the room. To my right and left lies a bunch of technical machinery. Various cords are connected the devices and beeping noises sound off like a boom in the silent room. Small containers filled with colorful fluid sit in trays on the tables. Tools are lined up neat and orderly on the counter top. What those might be used for, I can only image. There are two large screens with foreign symbols and numbers filtering back and forth.
At my feet is the only door in and out of this metal box. Bad things happen here, I can feel it in my bones. If I listen carefully, I can almost hear the echo of screams from the past. I consider it a small blessing that my heart is pounding too loud and the blood rushes like a tidal wave in my ears.
My body shakes uncontrollably as my mind conjures up horrors. My mind twists and yanks from one scenario to the next, with no true knowledge of what’s to come. What will become of me? When can I go home? Will I ever see my family again? Tears stream down my cheeks, and I don’t dare hope for such a thing.
All the books I read had never ended well. How many times did I scream and rant at the stupid damsels in the books. And yet here I am, a damsel. Who will save me? Will anyone?
These people, they’re strange. Unusual. Otherworldly. What do they want with me? Why do they want me? What use am I to them? Will they kill me? Rape? Torture? The tension and panic slowly choke the life from me. I’m starting to wheeze. Why am I here? Why did I leave? I was so stupid. I should have stayed home. I have nothing to prove to anyone. It was a stupid, immature thing to do. Why am I so stupid?
I startle and inhale a sharp breath at the sound of a metal sliding against metal. I peer down my body to the door being shoved open. A blond man with peculiar violet eyes stalks in; my shaking returns. He’s wearing a long white coat with red spots decorating the front. His face is set much like His was, cruel and heartless. His cold gaze flashes over my body with clinical precision. My terror scents the air, and my breathing falters. My eyes slowly track his progress to the table to my right. My attention is drawn as another person enters the room.
In seconds the heavy door is slammed closed. The sound haunts me. My fate is sealed. Despair settles in my bones. Whatever happens now will forever change me, scar me. If I can somehow plead, perhaps I’ll be spared this coming pain. Yet, my steady climbing terror clamps my mouth shut. No sounds, no words leave my throat. I want to scream. How weak I am? I can’t even plead for my own life.
The female draws up to the table at my left. She has her bizarre white hair pulled tight in a bun. Her young face is stern and unforgiving. She wears a similar cloak as the man, though hers is far less bloodied. Her violet eyes roam over my body just like his. I don’t understand what that means. I don’t understand what they are looking at. I don’t understand what’s going to happen. I want to go home.
The male reaches across and tightens the restraints across my wrists, ankles, chest, and forehead. The female connects wires to different parts of my skin. The wires are like tiny pinpricks, and I inhale sharply. Immediately following the pain, a restraint of some sort is wrapped around my flesh to keep them cords in place. Once finished, the female fiddles with something on the screens. The beeping speeds up for a brief period before resume the normal pace. The male hands the female two little vials with needles on the ends. The vials hold that strange golden liquid. I cringe as the both move to stand over me with nasty, evil smirks on their faces.
I jolt awake, heart pounding so hard I fear it will explode. Standing quickly, I steady myself on the cliff face. I scrub my hands over my face and will my heartbeat to slow. Just a dream. That’s all it was, nothing more. I pace back and forth until the sun peeks overs the horizon. Relief for the coming sunlight floods through me.
Eventually, evening arrives again. I spent today much like yesterday. I woke with the sun and moved my pack to place high in a tree. I remained in the shadow of a large tree and watching the hustle of the villagers as they went about their day, paying close attention to the reactions of those opening the wooden crate. Nothing seemed amiss from where I sat crouched, but I would still need to be cautious tonight. Returning to the same place to steal isn’t ideal, but it’s easy.
Once the sun started to sinks beyond the horizon, I make my next move. Following a different path than last night, I come to the wooden crate. In no time, my food is safely tucked in my bundle. I survey my collection from tonight: three veltos, one gran, and one porg. I had hesitated grabbing the porg because they don’t taste good uncooked, but I couldn’t pass up the nutrients.
I ran an increased risk of discovery the longer I stayed. By some power, I had yet to be discovered and I don’t want to push it anymore. Tomorrow will be my last batch before leaving for Joult the following morning. I stash the goods in my pack and in no time, sleep claims me.
*******
I expect the day to follow much as the two before, and am surveying the village when something catches my eye. Two young children wander to the fields in the early afternoon, and I think nothing of it until I see them reaching for a basket of fresh food. Before their hands grab anything, they’re thrown aside. They land in a pile of dirt and struggle to stand. Even from my distance, these children are unnaturally small and thin. Their clothing could barely be called rags.
Once they are standing, they reach for the food once more. Like before, they are pushed away before they can touch anything. I watched in disgust as the villager snatches the basket and made a show of eating something.
After taking only a few bites, the ugly man drops the food in a puddle of mud. He smirks and watches the children fight each other for the half eaten, muddy food. When one succeeds is snatching the meal, the bastard laughs. The child devours it, and instead of intervening, the other adults join in the laughter.
What could possess adults to laugh at children’s suffering is beyond me. Adults should care for and nurture the young, not belittle and taunt them. My first impression of this place was wrong and disgust washes through me in waves. For a village to stand by and watch their children starve is inhumane. I thought that I was the monster but it looks like these people are far worse than me.
Why these people forsake these children baffles me. Even if they are without parents or family, it’s usually customary to be adopted by another family in the town. No one should be abandoned by their village.
I continue to watch the children, wishing I could do something but knowing I can’t risk exposure in the middle of the day. Eventually, they move away and wander back to a dilapidated shack on the far edge of town. My heart cries with pity at the sight, and the thought of eating this town’s food sickens me. I want nothing to do with them, but have no other choice tonight.
A plan formulates in my mind as I wait for dusk one final time.
By the time night rolls around, a firm plan has been established. I follow the same routine from the previous two nights. In no time, I reach the tree line and make my way to the shack on the far side, bundle secured. I approach the building in the shadows and hesitate only briefly. I remained extra vigil throughout the day to make sure I knew where the children where located. They hadn’t moved from their shack once since they entered.
Very carefully, I open the shack door. This was the part in the plan causing me the most anxiety. Things could go very wrong in seconds and I would be easy pickings for the villagers if things soured. The door squeaks quietly and I wince before continuing on. I know I can’t stop now, these kids need it. I pray to the powers that be that these children are deeply asleep in there. With just enough room to fit my package, I carefully slide the cloth bundle in. I pause for a moment and listen for movement.
Nothing stirs and a soundless sigh of relief escapes me. With just as much care, I close the door and quickly retreat to the woods. Without looking back, heart still pounding and sweat still pouring, I bolt for my pack. Once at the tree, I finally pause and hold my breath. Content with the lack of sounds, I grab my pack and head out.
Fractured Past (A Talnarin Novel Book 1) Page 4