“Take a few drags on this, fixing you up is going to hurt, a lot.”
Father doesn’t even say a word before quickly snatching the bottle out of my hand and taking a few big swigs. While Father gets to numbing himself, I start preparing everything I’ll need to fix the deep gouges in his side. Thank the Gods James taught me how to stitch people up when I was younger. I think back to when he first taught me how to do stitches.
One day when we were kids, we were out exploring, and I fell down. Me falling down was not out of the ordinary but of course with my luck, this time I landed on a sharp stick. The stick jammed into my leg and gave me a huge deep cut which needed stitches. James, perpetually the teacher, showed me how to do stitches while he was working on stitching me up. I think it was probably more to keep my mind off of the pain, but I did learn a valuable skill.
Then over the years people in the town sporadically got hurt and needed stitches, and James and I would help out stitching people up, so I know I can handle stitching up my Father. By the time I have everything set up, my Father is already a little woozy. I can tell because he’s sitting up on the edge of his bed swaying a little, so before I lose my nerve to work on him I get down to business.
“Okay, you can lay down now.” Father lies down and I pull his belt out from the loops of his pants, fold it in half and hand it to him. “You might want to bite down on it, this is really going to hurt.” I take the whiskey from his hands and say, “Brace yourself, I need to disinfect the wound and get all of this puss out,” before I pour the whiskey all over his wounds.
I splash the brown liquid all over his side making sure to get it all the way deep into his cuts. He gasps for air and starts shaking from the pain the alcohol causes. I take a clean cloth and press it to the wound.
The contact on the wound must be too much because Father bends up in a half sit-up and lets out a huge breath of air. He tries to wiggle away from the cloth until I give him a glare to say I won’t put up with such nonsense, then pull the cloth off and give him a few seconds to compose himself.
“Okay, we need to do that one more time to make sure we got out all the bad stuff, so take in a deep breath and I’ll count to three.”
I pull out a clean cloth and start my count.
“One…”
I unscrew the lid on the whiskey bottle.
“Two…”
And I throw the whiskey all over his wound.
Father yells, “Damn it, Attina! You said on the count of three!”
I press the new, clean cloth back on top of the wounds as I repeat what he told me the first day of our training. “Assume nothing, and trust no one.” Then I wink at him. “Besides, we got it over with didn’t we? And this way you didn’t have a chance to tense up.” I dab the cloth over the cleaned wounds, getting rid of as much moisture as possible before I get to stitching him up. He lies down and closes his eyes. His breathing becomes deeper and steadier as I begin working on him.
Halfway through stitching him up I ask, “Okay where did you put the map to Sanctuary before you pass out?”
My Father chuckles, “You’re going to laugh at this one; it's in a super secret place—I shoved it under my bed.”
I stop stitching for a second and glance at him, shocked, and then I roll my eyes at him.
“I don’t know if that’s stupid or genius. It’s such an obvious spot it would either be the first spot checked, or it wouldn’t get checked at all. Well, let’s finish getting you stitched up and we’ll switch you to my bed, I’ll change the wet sheets on your bed and grab the map. Tonight, since your bed is soaked in whiskey I’ll just sleep on the couch and if you need me, you can just yell.”
“Thank you so much, pumpkin. I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”
My eyes flick to Father and I crack a smile. “Crash and burn.”
We both chuckle until Father moans in pain and grasps at his side. I finish stitching him up, and wrap his wound in cloth to keep out any dirt or crud. I have to help Father to my bed. He’s still a little woozy from all the whiskey he downed earlier. I drop him, gently, in my bed and sit down next to him to tuck him in. I move to leave but just as I start moving, I hear his voice.
“Attina, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, but you are the greatest thing to ever happen to me.”
“Oh, stop it.” I wave him away. “That’s just the whiskey talking. Now get some rest mister.” I stand to leave the room and just as I turn Father grabs me by my arm, stopping me.
“No, I mean it! You’ve grown into such a beautiful, capable woman. I am so proud of who you’ve become. You can hunt and shoot, you’re smart and funny, and you’re loving and generous. I couldn’t be a prouder father.”
Those words hit me in the heart fiercely. I feel tears creeping out of my eyes. Why the hell am I crying so much lately damnit? Never in my life have I been a crier.
“That means so much to me. Thank…”
Then I realize he’s laid his head down, passed out, snoring. I smile to myself, wipe the tears from my eyes, and cover him up with my blanket. I absolutely need to stop crying, this is getting ridiculous.
Before I leave the room, I can hear his deep snore. His snoring is ear-splitting. All my life I’ve raced to get to sleep before he did, but this time when I get to my door I turn around and smile. After everything that’s happened these past few days, his snoring is incredibly comforting.
I walk back to Father’s room and strip off the soiled blankets and sheets. I take them outside and put them in the wash bin then head back inside to find the map. I pull back the mattress cushion and the map is right under where my Father’s head would lay. Surprisingly the map isn’t much, only a simple sheet of parchment folded in half. I walk it into the living room and slide it down into the pocket of my quiver for safekeeping, then head outside to take care of Father’s bedding before the blood stains set.
When I get back inside, I grab my quiver, pull out the map and flop down on the couch to read its contents. When I unfold it I see it’s a roughly drawn map and I can tell by the writing that Father drew it.
At the extreme left of the map is our town; a little way up from there and to the right is marked as our camp site. Then way up at the top, a little to the right from our town is Shadow Mountain. On the map you can tell it is a massive mountain and my Father must have not actually known how big the mountain was because he drew it on the edge of the paper so the top of the mountain is missing.
Down and far to the right of our town is a site marked Sanctuary. It’s way off by itself, past the other three towns I know about, Hugyo, Salhay and Fedum. To get there we will have to pass through those towns but at least we will be able to restock necessities along the way.
It will be a long hard journey but with Father and Oak by my side, I know we can make it to Sanctuary. As I drift off to sleep I absentmindedly wonder if the people in those towns followed our townspeople on their journey to Sanctuary.
15
Attina
The next morning, I wake early to an empty house. I get out of bed, dress, walk over to the corner of my room, and snatch up my bow and quiver. I hurry outside in search of Father. When I make it outside the horses are already both kneeling down fully saddled. Father walks gingerly out of our shed carrying a saddle bag in each hand. He’s moving a lot slower today and his eyes are bloodshot; I guess he’s hungover from all the whiskey he drank last night.
I shout at him, “What do you think you’re doing!”
My yell startles him, and he drops the saddle bags.
“I’m just grabbing a couple of fresh supplies for the ride back to camp.”
“For the ride back? Did you hit your head last night after all that whiskey? You need to be in bed! Didn’t you see all those stitches I had to put in you?”
I walk over to him and grab him by his arm to guide him back to our house.
“Now let’s get you back to bed, you need some rest. Besides, I won’t be too happy
if you tear those stitches and I have to sew you up again. I don’t even want to know how you saddled those horses without blowing them out.”
He yanks his arm away from me, picking up the saddlebags before walking over to the horses.
“No, Attina. We can’t be around town more than absolutely necessary.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Pumpkin, last night when we showed up here, I remembered you should be coming into your Awakening any day now. We can’t be around our town when it happens. I’m not completely sure what your mother meant by the ground quaking. I don’t know how massive a reaction it will be. For all I know, your Awakening could rip cracks in the earth, and I don’t want you to accidentally destroy the town.”
“Oh…” I whisper as I stare at my feet, realizing he’s right. We don’t know for sure what will happen and if the world shakes from an Awakening then the town could shake so hard it falls to the ground.
I look over to him and say, “But what about your stitches? You can’t ride like that,” pointing at his hurt side.
He glances down at his side then looks to the saddle bags in his hands and continues as he lays one bag on top of Oak.
“I did think of that already and I loaded up both of our saddle bags with better medical supplies, everything you’ll need for stitching me back up; some whiskey included.” He says this last part while winking at me.
I laugh. “Okay just let me get a fresh pair of clothes on and we’ll get on the road.” I move to walk back into the house and hear him shout after me.
“Hurry, pumpkin. No longer than absolutely necessary, remember?” I lift my hand over my head and wave to say yeah okay or F off. I’m not sure which.
I head into my room for a change of clothes and to pack another bag. I’d only brought a few items when we first left town but now it seems like this camping trip will be for the foreseeable future, so I better take more clothes with me while I have the chance. Most of my clothes were made out of wool from town livestock so I grab a little of everything, lots of layers I can use throughout the winter if necessary.
Then I strap my mother’s sword around my hips before grabbing my quiver and bow as I walk out my door to the back door of the house. As I put my right hand on the doorknob, I turn around to stare once more at the house I grew up in, trying to save every detail safely in my mind, not knowing when the next time I’ll see this place is. I get the sudden urge to walk over to our fireplace.
Over the fireplace is one lone picture. There is a family photo of my dad my mother, and me. The only picture I’ve ever seen of my mother and she is holding me. I must be only a couple of weeks old in this picture. I’m so tiny. My mother is cradling me in her arms staring down at me and on her face I can see the immense love and joy written there. Gazing at the picture of our little family, it hits me again how much I look like my mother.
My eyes obviously came from my father but every other feature on my face is the spitting image of my mother. She has long wavy beautiful brown hair. I haven’t ever thought of my hair as beautiful, but seeing it on my mother I know now it’s truly comely. Our full cheeks and small, slight button nose finishes out her face. Behind her, Father has his arms wrapped around Mother’s stomach and under her arms, so it appears like he’s holding both of us at the same time. On his face is the biggest smile I’ve ever seen him wear, I can see how proud he is of his little family and I can see the love he has for us beaming out through his eyes.
Tears start to fill my eyes. I wish I could remember a time when we were all together, and a time where Father was this happy. Throughout the years he’s been happy, but without fail, I could tell in all those happy moments he was heartbroken my mother wasn’t there to share them with him. Here, in this picture his expression is pure bliss. That urge returns to take hold of me and tells me to take the picture with me. The thought of leaving the picture here kick starts a pain in my chest like someone’s hand is in my chest squeezing my heart.
I follow my heart and without thinking grab the frame and shove it in my quiver pocket right next to the map to Sanctuary. I take one last circle around the living room and then head out the back door to meet Father and the horses. Father has already made it atop Raven and everyone is just standing there waiting for me, Father is the first one to say anything.
“We were getting worried about you. Are you ready, pumpkin?”
I nod my head and throw my quiver and bow over my shoulder while I walk over to Oak. I give his big, trunk-sized head a pat and then end up wrapping my arms around it. Oak pushes his head against my chest, and I hear Father next to us, “Okay guys, we need to get going.” I give Oak one more big squeeze, and with my sword strapped to my side, clumsily climb up into the saddle.
The ride back to camp is slow going since Father is so sore from me stitching him up, but it should only take us about a day and a half to get back to camp this time. After the first day on the trail, I have to stitch him back up in a couple spots but nothing too dramatic.
The next day it takes most of the day for me to gather the courage to ask a question which has been on my mind off and on since I was a little kid, but I do eventually gather enough courage to ask.
“Hey, Father, can I ask you a question?” I call to him from behind, where I’m riding Oak.
“Always, pumpkin,” Father calls over his shoulder on top of Raven.
“How did you and my mother meet?”
“Get up here and I’ll tell you; I don’t want to shout!” He calls to me.
I air kiss at Oak, and he picks up his pace to a trot until we are walking side by side with Raven and Father. He turns his head to me, smiles, and then starts his story.
“I guess it makes sense you want to know how we met. Any kid would want to know something like that even if their mother wasn’t Fae. You must be sitting on pins and needles.”
“What are you talking about? You know I’ve wanted to know all about you and my mother forever. It’s not solely because she was Fae, I just never asked because I figured what was the point when you wouldn’t ever talk to me about her anyway,” I snap.
Father’s face turns sad, and I instantly regret the way I snapped at him. “Father…I’m—” I stutter out.
He doesn’t let me finish and merely talks over me. “I’m sorry for all those years I kept you in the dark about your mother. I probably could have handled it better, but I did the best I could.”
I trot Oak in front of Raven and stop, making sure Father pays attention to what I have to say. I look him in the eye. “You were and are the greatest father in the world. You had to be a mother and a father. I know I wasn’t the easiest child to raise, but I wouldn’t change the way I was raised for the world. I would have loved for Mother to have been around growing up but don’t ever think I was wanting for anything growing up. You showed and continue to show me enough love and support for two parents— I love you.” By now I am choking up trying hard not to cry for what feels like the fourteenth time this trip.
Father looked me in the eye throughout my entire speech but his face was like a rock while I was talking. Now that I’ve finished his face softens and he smiles. “I love you too, pumpkin. So you want to know how your mother and I met? Let’s get moving and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know from now on. Promise.”
I smile and nod. “Okay, let’s go.” I turn Oak back in the direction of camp and we all resume our journey.
“Your mother and I met on the Day of Destruction,” he starts nonchalantly.
I hold up a hand “Wait! Wait! You mean you're older than the Day of Destruction? That was ages ago.” I smile slyly.
Peeking over to Father I see him roll his eyes “Har-de-har. Very funny, Attina. Can I continue now?” he says while pointedly staring at me.
“Yes, sorry I couldn’t help myself” I apologize chuckling to myself. “What were you doing there anyway?”
“I was actually a guard. Remember the story I told you as a child about what h
appened on the Day of Destruction?”
“Yes,” I answer absentmindedly.
“Well, the proprietor, Wharton, was my boss. I was hired as his personal guard, but he used me more as an assistant.”
My tone turns grave as I say, “So, um, I guess you were kind of fired since the proprietor ended up dying that night.”
“It’s not as easy as all that baby girl. Like I said he used me as more of an assistant so that night Wharton sent me to oversee his workers and make sure everything went off without a hitch, but you know what ended up happening. After the Fae started pouring out of Shadow Mountain I ran back to Wharton’s office but by the time I made it there your mother was standing over his dead body covered in his blood. As I walked in she turned to me and her fiery eyes found mine.”
“So, wait, did you two fight?” I interrupt.
“Well, if you’d let me finish you would have already found out the answer to that question.”
“Sorry, I’ll be quiet.” Heat rises to my cheeks. I seriously can’t seem to stay quiet right now. I want to know everything.
“We did not fight, and honestly to this day I still don’t understand why. Our eyes met and I don’t know how to explain it, but something clicked between us. I had a visceral reaction to seeing her like I was looking at someone I’d known my whole life. I walked over to her and she lowered her sword and in a bewitching voice said, ‘well hello you,’ and ran over to me, jumped into my arms like we had been together forever. Everything just clicked. Before we knew what was really happening, your mother and I were climbing on Oak together and the four of us were running away from our commitments and our previous lives to make a new life together.”
“Wait. I don’t understand. You said the four of us but you only mentioned three names.”
“Yes. Your mother, me, Oak, and Raven.”
“Wait. Okay I know Oak was my mother’s war-horse, but why were you there Raven? You had to have been so young.”
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