Season of Hytalia

by Jennifer Arntson

  Marsh compensated for the disabled wheel. “I’m not building any doghouse today,” he grunted.

  * * *

  Instead of having lunch, we opted for an early dinner. Father wasn’t home yet, so we made sure to leave enough for him to have his portion when he returned. Not wanting an awkward run-in with him, Calish and I decided to go back to the hay barn for the night.

  “Don’t go back out there,” Mother said tenderly, collecting the plates from us.

  “I won’t return to the house until we’re invited into it.” Calish took my hand, and somehow, it made me feel better.

  “I’m inviting you.”

  Calish hugged her. “Then I only need to wait for Father’s invitation.”

  “Very well.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Goodnight.” She kissed me, too.

  We opened the front door, startled to see our father sitting at the other end of the porch. He’d been whittling a piece of wood with his blade for some time, judging by the shavings that had fallen around him. His fury was contained, although he failed to mask his disappointment. He refused to acknowledge either of us, and Calish didn’t insult him by trying to force him to. Squeezing my hand slightly, he led me off the porch and into the evening rain. Father let us pass without saying a word, focused on the project in his hands.

  I felt such guilt and remorse for what I’d done. All I wanted to do was beg his forgiveness. I wanted to run to him, hug him, and cry like I had as a child. It didn’t matter to me if he hugged me back. On the other hand, I had not caused all of this turmoil by myself, although my father was quick to assign me all the blame.

  Should I remind him that he hid my past from me? That he led me to believe I was someone I wasn’t? Perhaps he should have known more about the man he sold me to before he made arrangements for my future. Would I have landed in my “brother’s” arms if I wasn’t so repulsed by Blue? My thoughts made me pause as if I somehow expected my father to respond to the questions racing through my mind.

  Look at me, damn it!

  I don’t know if it was Calish’s prompting or my own stubbornness that made me pick up my feet. I passed him with matched silence, refusing to cast my eyes down in shame. If this was how life would be for me as a woman, I would have to stop acting like a little girl. I would not be shamed by him or anyone else. Not when I had more important things to wrestle with. The gods intended a woman to leave her family. Perhaps their plan applied to me as much as any girl despite their status. It didn’t have to be easy or pleasurable. While we staggered through the various stages of my fate, I owned my actions and he owned his.

  He can reach for me as easily as I can for him, and I can walk past him as easily as he will allow.

  It was an understatement to say things were complicated. Hopefully, they were not beyond a resolution. If they were, I would find a way to survive. That credit I’d give to the man on the porch; at least he taught me to be resilient despite the opinions of others—even if the opinion in question was his.

  The moment our feet hit the dirt, my father set his project aside and brushed its shavings from his trousers. When he entered the house, he greeted my mother then closed the door as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

  Chapter 10

  Calish was up bright and early. I was surprised that he moved so quickly in the morning without his normal cup of tea. He had told me the night before that he was determined to build a doghouse now more than ever.

  “Our father was on that porch for the gods know how long before we noticed him there. What if that were—” He stopped. “What I meant to say is it could have been anyone, and we wouldn’t have been aware of it until it was too late.”

  There was always reclaimed wood stacked behind the house. We stored it in a place where it was less likely to get wet or be in the way. We often claimed unwanted supplies after projects on residences in the valley or pulled them off the side of abandoned or dilapidated buildings. While new materials would have made life easier, we were pretty good at making do with what we had. In most cases, it required more creative engineering; nevertheless, the task got completed, and it was done well.

  Rain would soon be deemed an official Scavenger with a home created with reclaimed materials, just like ours. Up until now, he either slept in my parent’s area of the house or, most recently, found solace with us in the hay barn. Knowing how heavy a finished doghouse would be, Calish would build it in place. He picked a spot at the west corner of the house where the pup would have an unobstructed view of the property’s entrance.

  I had nothing to do, so I wove baskets out of the thin, flexible ground vines to pass the time. After removing the thorns, I crossed two twigs to begin the initial square. The ones I collected proved quite strong and created a symmetrical pattern that would be both functional and handsome. Too confident to recheck my supply, I winced when a lone thorn pricked my fingertip before breaking free from the stalk. I had managed to remove it and squeezed out a spot of blood when Father stormed out of the house without a raincoat.

  “What is all the banging about?” he hollered, pounding his feet into the slurry of mud and rain with each step.

  Calish wiped the water from his brow. “I’m building a doghouse for Rain.”

  “Here? Right here?” He pointed to the stack of wood on the ground.

  “What? He can see the entrance; he’s next to the house and away from the small animals.”

  “It’s also on the outside of my bedroom wall!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

  “Wait, you didn’t think something through? Big surprise,” Father scoffed, turning to go back to the house.

  “We need a doghouse.”

  “You don’t know what we need,” Father spat.

  “He’ll keep trespassers out.”

  “He’ll be shot in the head while sleeping in his custom quarters. Tell me, how many wolves have their own home?”

  “I don’t understand; is your issue that I’m building it or that it’s being built at all?”

  Father pointed an angry finger at him. “You are wasting premium material and precious time on a house fit for a Citizen to house a wild animal.”

  “So, are you implying that I’m foolish or wasteful?”

  “I’m pointing out that you’re creating a better life for a damn dog than for your family!”

  Calish threw down his hand tools. “Way to start, Father. Now you’ve got in a good jab, why don’t you tell me what you want to say!”

  Father spun around. “There is nothing for me to say! You’ve made all the decisions already. The only thing the rest of us can do is go along with them!”

  Calish ran his hands through his hair, slicking the top back with the rain to hold it away from his hopeless face. “I love her,” he confessed. “I always have. I didn’t plan for things to happen this way, but is it so bad that I’m able to protect her from the monster you set her up to marry? You saw what he did to her!”

  Father said nothing.

  Mother stepped out onto the porch, clutching her robe closed, as Calish continued. “I’m sorry that you don’t understand, Father. If you truly think I’ve done everything wrong, that nothing I’ve done is the least bit justifiable, then send me on my way; I’ll figure it out just like you did. I won’t hate you for it. But if this is just you being angry because I made a decision without consulting you first, that’s your issue to sort out!”

  The two men stood their ground in the rain. What started as a drizzle turned into an out-and-out downpour. My father’s pajama bottoms were soaked below the knee, and Calish’s clothes clung to his body. It felt as if the sky wanted to push them in opposite directions but was denied the respect it demanded.

  Neither of them wanted to be wrong, especially Father. Though Calish spoke his mind, he tried to be respectful while still being honest. If this was the last thing he’d ever say to Father, at least he knew he’d been heard. Now it was up to my father to tell him to go or let him sta
y.

  Mother and I waited. As if the gods wanted to hurry things along, they flashed lightning across the sky to force his hand.

  “It’s not safe to be working on that right now.” Father sighed.

  Calish picked his tools up, sticking a Nobu nail between his lips. “I’ve got nothing better to do, and I don’t want to sit around in a hay barn all day with a wolf.”

  “How are you speaking without a cup of tea at this hour?” Father folded his arms across his chest.

  His son lined up the next piece of wood and nailed it in place.

  “I’ll put on a pot if you’re interested,” he offered nervously.

  Calish looked over his shoulder, his chin tight. Trails of water dripped down his face, camouflaging the tears I knew were there.

  “Hytalia is not a time for outdoor chores. But who am I to give you advice?” Father headed for the house but slowed as if he regretted the cheap shot he took. He saw my mother’s disappointment and sighed. “We should talk about how to secure this place better now that there’s a wolf here. We’ll figure out something. Not that, though.” He rubbed his open hands on the sides of his pajama bottoms, avoiding eye contact with anyone watching. He took a single step but hesitated again. His strained voice seemed gruff but equally vulnerable. “In the meantime, you can come in, change, and warm up, but I can’t promise I’ll be polite.”

  Calish paused, hammer hanging from his hand and feet planted where he stood. Would this be the only offer extended? What would waiting for another one prove? Father had a right to be angry. Still, he invited his son back inside his home. It wasn’t a dramatic display of forgiveness, but I’m not sure any of us had the energy or confidence to give anything more than a gesture. He wouldn’t have offered him tea if he didn’t want to attempt to work things out.

  Mother summoned me, and I obliged, careful not to appear too eager. I pulled the back of my shirt collar over my head and signaled for Calish to join us. If he didn’t enter, neither would I, although I hoped he’d follow my lead.

  Rain ran past me and darted into the house before my father stepped onto the porch. I waited for him to go in before I got close enough to accept my mother’s affection. Calish timidly came up the front steps, still unsure if he was ready for whatever Father had planned or, worse yet, what he hadn’t planned for. After kissing her son on the cheek, Mother ushered us inside, forcing the water from the corners of her eyes with the back of her trembling hand.

  * * *

  Calish changed while Father put on a pot of water and Mother gathered things from various cabinets to prepare breakfast. Not wanting to sit in the awkward silence, I volunteered to collect the eggs for her. It was an odd feeling, having to be invited back into your own home. I’d lived here all my life, yet after two days, I felt like I didn’t belong. When I returned, Calish waited at the table with an empty cup and my father busied himself by stoking the fire.

  Marsh didn’t come down from the loft until he felt safe to do so. As always, food proved a powerful motivator for him to do anything uncomfortable. I knew eventually he’d decide to join us for breakfast and so did Mother. Seeing the hanging clothing from my father and Calish on the ladder’s rungs, he jumped down from the loft to the lower floor. Mother made it worth coming together. She made more food than we could eat. Pancakes, eggs, sausage, and hot oatmeal crowded our already undersized table. It was obvious to everyone that she did her best to make an enjoyable meal. She made sure to honor every person in attendance with their favorite.

  Father thanked my mother for such a lovely spread as he came to the table. “I saw you boys dislodged the cart.”

  “You make it sound simple,” Marsh replied.

  My father tucked a napkin into the collar of his shirt. “It wasn’t?”

  The story my brothers told about the situation was of epic proportions. You would have thought the gods themselves had bestowed a curse upon the wagon so that only the bravest of men could free it. Their tall tale of adventure had us rolling in our seats, unable to eat a single bite for fear of choking on it. Don’t misunderstand, the two of them getting repeatedly dunked was amusing, although the way they retold the story was far more entertaining than the actual event.

  After the laughter died down, an awkward silence fell over the table. There were so many possibilities for our future as a family, it wasn’t worth talking about. The only thing to talk about other than my pregnancy was something I wished we could avoid, yet my father zeroed right in on it.

  “I want to know what happened while you were away.”

  “Oh, Tawl. Not now,” Mother moaned.

  “I thought about it all day yesterday. Something is going on. I went down to the river and watched the activity of the people down there. You know that most of the shops are flooded? The water is so high, they’re clearing a new road as if they don’t expect it to go back down. The observatory is guarded, and the authority is conducting a door-to-door census of every house in the village not yet underwater.”

  “Why would they do that? Isn’t that what the Atchem Festival Registry is for?” Mother asked.

  “Used to be. I don’t know why they’re doing it now, but when they get here, they won’t find a match in their records.”

  “What do you mean, Tawl?”

  “Every year I register our family under a different name.” Father cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to be tied to my father. I didn’t change much, but it was enough to keep us out of the view of the Authority’s underclassmen.”

  “So, who did you say we were?” Marsh asked.

  “The Sartolds.”

  “Sartolds?” we said in unison. Rain cocked his head to the side and perked his ears.

  “I figured that, after a time, the ink would fade, and it would appear as a simple mistake. I’m not sure the records are ever referenced anyway. Since I didn’t know of my reputation among the Authority, it seemed better than announcing that we were Scabs with access to perceived power. We didn’t have it, so why be threatened by someone else who wanted to use us as an advantage.”

  My shoulders fell. “Wait. Reinick didn’t know about any of us?”

  “Just Marsh.” Father nodded with pride as he gazed at the man sitting next to him.

  I set down my fork. “Then it was me. I told him about us at the prison…” I held my stomach, suddenly feeling ill.

  Father is right, this is all my fault.

  Father reached across the table. “I should have said something a long time ago. It never occurred to me that any of you kids would get into any trouble. Honestly, I didn’t know he’d risen to such power.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I made mistakes without knowing I made them.

  “That is why I need to know everything that happened. You have to tell me every conversation you had with Reinick or Hawk. There’s a reason my father came for Calish. As the Lord of the Authority, he’s second in command. Why is he risking his position to produce a birthright for a Scavenger born without one?”

  “I haven’t dreamed anything.”

  “I’m not talking about visions, Una. Start at the beginning, and this time, please don’t leave anything out. There cannot be any more secrets. We’re going to have to trust one another and work together. I don’t care about anything that has happened in the past. Whatever has transpired, it’s not worth any of our lives, and that’s precisely what’s at stake.”

  * * *

  There were several things I didn’t want to confess. My family proved patient as I found the courage to say them, but it still felt isolating to do so. Doubt and shame clouded my mind, and I felt guilty burdening them with the details of my incarceration. I’d told my mother some of what had happened, and Calish knew a bit more, although no one knew the story as completely as I had given it sitting at the table in our one-room house.

  I told them about the various chores, the people I’d met, and tactics used to keep us under the Authority’s control. If I inadvertently skipped over details I felt wer
e trivial, my father interrupted, making me circle back to complete the thought. At times it was frustrating, but I learned why Reinick must have been so disappointed in losing my father as an apprentice. He would have been a fine officer, one quick to get to the root of what he was after.

  There’s a certain freedom in confession, not that it was easy. I pet Rain during much of my testimony. There was something about it that calmed me. It wasn’t until I told them about doing the laundry that my companion’s presence wasn’t enough to comfort me. I knew I couldn’t avoid it, especially since my father asked about it directly.

  Calish held my hand as I confessed the awful details. Marsh was so disturbed that he stood up to gaze out the kitchen window. My family respectfully did not pity nor congratulate me about the event. I suppose when someone you care about tells you a survival story like that, there is truly nothing to celebrate. My parents proved themselves stronger than I imagined they would be. Mother cried, but not because I was a murderer. If I had to label her emotion, I’d say she was proud. She grabbed the nape of my neck and pulled my face close. “You have every right to do what you did. Your strength comes from the Great One, the breaker of chains. Don’t ever question the measures you took to defend yourself. Do you understand?”

  Did my mother congratulate me on killing a man in cold blood? Did she realize it was the wolf in me, not some made-up man in the stars?

  It didn’t matter what the guard did to me in the laundry or what I’d done to him; I was forever changed by it in a way no woman should be. The best thing would have been for it to never have happened at all, but it was too late for that.

  My father kept his stoic expression while his fingers tapped wildly on the armrest of his chair. “I want to talk more about your duties in the dining hall. Tell me about the night you learned Hawk was my brother?”

  “Oh, right.” I shook my head. “I haven’t told you about Reinick and the Priest.”