Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 67
67
With the wall growing out of the ground like a massive set of spiky teeth, the pass looked more like a hungry mouth than ever before, ready to chomp down and devour anything and everything foolish enough to approach it. And standing right on top of those teeth, lining the walkway with barely any space between them, was everyone she had ever known and loved: her friends, her family, her people. All of them waiting for something to happen, for something to come out of that gaping maw...
Kiana spat the bitter taste of vomit out of her mouth and plodded through the snow, skirting around support beams and coils of rope in her haste to make it to the ladders. She felt bad, breaking Rule Number 1 mere minutes after arriving, but this was something she had to do, and she feared she didn't have much time left to do it in.
She reached one of the ladders and clambered up as fast as she dared, her feet occasionally slipping on the snowy rungs until she reached the walkway. She stood up and was immediately blasted in the face by a wave of icy cold wind, powerful enough to almost send her staggering backwards and over the edge. She gathered herself and began to walk, leaning forward against the wind. This whole place was packed with Foxes, standing shoulder to shoulder, but none of them paid her much heed, and it was all too easy to understand why.
They were all fearing for their lives. She didn't even need to see their faces to know that. Everywhere she looked, there were Foxes huddled together, shivering from more than just the cold, whispering to each other in hushed tones. As she walked by, it was impossible not to overhear snippets of conversation. The wind was practically slapping her in the face with random words and phrases ripped from their very mouths.
"- much longer, you think?"
"I don't know. I just hope -"
"- anything? It's so -"
"I can't do this, Jeremy! I just can't! You saw how bad -"
"What's going to happen? I mean, what exactly is going to happen? No one can -"
There was a Fox sitting down on the walkway with his back propped up against the jagged teeth of the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest. He was lightly rocking back and forth, muttering prayer after prayer beneath his breath. In his hands he held a small leather pouch, crumpled and frayed with use. He pressed it against his forehead and kept on praying, his lips moving so quickly it was impossible to discern any of the words.
Kiana recognised him as Peter from the bakery, a jolly Fox who loved to give away sweetcakes for free, at least one from every batch, much to his father's chagrin. He was also a Fox who had never harmed a fly, as far as Kiana knew.
She kept going, clutching her dress close to her chest and bowing her head against the wind.
There was a group of Foxes up ahead, slightly more rowdy than the rest, talking loudly to be heard above the roaring gale.
"Let them come! I'll show them what for!" the frontrunner yelled, brandishing his bow above his head. It was Eric, one of the hunters from the southern side of the valley.
"Aye, me too!" That was Samuels. He sold rabbits and squirrels and other small game animals at the market sometimes.
"I'd like to hear you say that once they actually show up," Gordon piped in. His voice was a bit muffled because he was also chewing on a birch twig, a habit his girlfriend had tried to get rid of for the past year because (according to her) it made his lips taste funny.
"Two silvers says he turns 'round and jumps off this wall with his tail 'tween his legs," Flyn added with a hearty guffaw.
William rolled his eyes and punched Flyn on the shoulder to boisterous applause from the rest.
Henry, being a bit more reserved than his fellows, simply double-checked his bow and arrows, keeping his ears perked.
All six of them were hunters, all six of them were friends, and all six of them were trying their very best to mask just how frightened they really were.
Kiana squeezed past them, wondering of Mother and Layla had begun to suspect anything yet. Her nausea could only buy ten minutes, at most.
Dean was up ahead, one hand planted stoically atop his head to keep his characteristic straw hat from blowing away. Why anyone would want to bring a hat with them in weather like this was beyond her, although she could never recall ever having seen him without it. It was just his thing. Come hell or high water, lightning or snow, fire or ice, he'd always have that hat on, and be proud of it, too.
And just a stone's throw down the line were the twins, Bartholomew and Nicholas.
Kiana turned her head to the side and tried to sneak by as quickly and quietly as possible. Unlike the others, she was sure Bart and Nick would try to rope her into a conversation, and as much as she liked chatting with them on normal days, she simply didn't have the time to do so now. She had no idea when the Wolves might show up, and she needed to be back in the medical tent before then. But as it turned out, she needn't have bothered. Bartholomew and Nicholas never so much as glanced in her general direction. The wall was lined with torches at frequent intervals and they sent out spots of orange light across the snow, fading into an empty blackness about ten strides deep into the pass. It was this darkness they were staring at, not making a single sound. There were no quips, no jabs, jokes, no elbow pokes. They were just standing, still as statues, their eyes squinched almost shut against the flurry of snowflakes blowing into their faces. In some ways, watching the twins so still and sombre was far worse than Peter's desperate prayers. Kiana wished they would crack a smile, or laugh, or jump on top of the wall to see who could balance there the longest, anything other than this tight-lipped act of silence that was so unbecoming of the biggest duo of raucous dunderheads the valley had ever known. Seeing them so serious... it was just wrong.
She was coming close to the centre of the wall now. Where the Wolves were.
Kiana walked a little faster. Her feet thudded against the snow-frosted planks, which creaked and groaned beneath her weight.
The first Wolves she came across were Mellah and Sorrin, standing side by side, holding each other by the hand. For some reason, they reminded her strongly of her parents, although she couldn't say why. Sorrin was nothing like Father, and Mellah was nothing like Mother, and yet they still triggered the same feelings whenever she looked upon them. Perhaps it was because they shared the same kind of love with each other - the pure, simple kind that compelled them to hold hands even during the darkest of moments, when hope was scarce and despair was easy.
Feeling a little bit better, Kiana hurried on, lifting her dress up to her knees to keep from tripping.
A small group of Foxes came running in the opposite direction, deftly splitting apart to avoid her. They nodded at her as they ran by.
"'Scuse me."
"Excuse me."
"Come on!" one of them yelled over his shoulder. "I see an empty spot over there!"
They slipped the bows from around their shoulders and fell in line beside their fellow archers, slightly out of breath. There would be more and more of them in the coming minutes, trickling through in little groups to answer the call of the beacon.
She was running out of time.
Kiana ran on, wondering if the pass had always been this wide, or if it only felt that way because of the cold. And where was Ander? She figured he would be somewhere around here, near the middle, but she couldn't see him, and the torches weren't any help at all.
She squinted into the shadows, trying to make sense of the vague shapes emerging from the swirling snow.
There was a tall one up ahead, and as she drew closer, Nilia's face began to emerge, partially illuminated by a nearby torch. She was just as stony as ever, and with her face frozen in a semi-frown, her arms crossed, and her legs slightly apart, even the way she was standing made her look like a statue. She wasn't even blinking, despite the snow blowing into her face and sticking to her fur.
Kiana was just about to slink on by when she did notice something unusual, though. There was a Fox standing right next to her (there was something familiar about the oversized crossbow slung across his shoulder, but his hood was up and she couldn't place him). His tail was lightly brushing against Nilia's, and if Kiana recalled correctly, the last time an overzealous Fox (it was Nicholas, actually) tried to touch Nilia's tail, that someone ended up with a broken tooth and a bruised ego.
Kiana flinched, expecting Nilia to spin around and deck the unfortunate soul right in the jaw, but that's not what happened. She watched in awestruck wonder as Nilia's tail actually rubbed him back. It was just a tiny bit, no more than a casual flick, really, but it was unmistakable.
Kiana quickly turned her head and continued on her way, feeling like a peeping Tom, but she had gone no more than five steps when an errant snowflake suddenly blew into her eye, as cold and as sharp as a needle, stopping her dead in her tracks. She rubbed at her face with numb and shaking fingers, cursing under her breath, and when she raised her head and blinked her burning eyes, she saw him just up ahead. It was Ander, and he was talking to Hezzi, a frown on his face.
Kiana's heart gave a quick little leap in her chest and she was just about to break out into a sprint to reach him, but something, not unlike the snowflake in her eye, stopped her. There was something about Ander that didn't feel quite right, but she couldn't put her finger on it. He was listening intently to whatever Hezzi was saying, nodding his head and occasionally saying something back, but it was as if he wasn't fully there. He kept glancing at the vertical walls of the pass and the shadows that made up its throat. Even more unsettling was the way he kept touching the horn around his neck and then pulling his fingers away, like someone trying very hard not to pick at a wound that wouldn't stop itching. He wasn't acting like himself, and that worried her.
Of course he's not acting like himself! The internal voice lashed out like a whip inside her mind, ripping and tearing. What part of this, what part of any of this, is like Ander? He's forcefully changing himself, twisting and contorting his very being, all for you! And once it's done and the blood is dry, he can never go back to the way he was.
But I don't want him to change! I want him to stay the Ander he always was! The kind Ander, the little bit bashful Ander, the Ander that treated my leg with honey, the Ander that pulled me out of the cage, the Ander that carried me through the darkness, the Ander that held me, protected me, kept me warm, kept me safe. I want him to stay the Ander that saved my life when I had no hope left!
And why do you think he's changing himself now, if not to save you yet again?
A hand closed around her wrist and jerked her back. She nearly screamed, but the air she gasped into her lungs was so cold it stuck there, and a good thing it did, because the one who had grabbed her was none other than her father.
"Kiana! What the hell do you think you're doing up here!?" he screamed into her face, nearly wrenching her arm out of its socket.
"Father! I -" Kiana looked over her shoulder at the large smudge of shadow barely visible through the driving snow. "I have to see Ander! I have to talk to him!"
"You promised your mother and I you would stay in the camp! Do you think that was a joke? It's dangerous up here! Those monsters could show up at any minute! Do you want an arrow to get lodged in your neck? Huh!?"
Had she ever seen her father like this, even once, in her entire life? Had he ever so much as raised his voice to her or her sister?
"Please, Father! It's deathly important! It'll only be a few minutes, and I'll go back to the camp immediately when I'm done, I swear!"
Father looked at her, and something strange happened. He suddenly looked older than he used to, more tired. He stared at her from beneath a deeply furrowed brow, dusted with frost, but despite his fatigue, his gaze was direct and piercing. There was a bow on his back, and that made it somehow worse. She had seen him forge all kinds of weapons over the years - bows, arrows, axes - but she had never seen him actually use one.
He sighed, but the sound was lost completely in the howling wind. "What am I going to do with you, Kiana? Are you going to make me drag you back by the hair, in front of all these people? Because I will, if I have to."
"Father, I -"
"It's not just you I'm worried about, Kiana. It's..." His voice dropped low, so that only she could hear. "It's my grandkid, too."
Kiana's breath hitched in her throat as he said that, and her gaze flicked down towards her midsection, where the wind was whipping her dress into a frenzy of ripples.
"I... I don't..." she stammered, feeling like a stupid, scared little child.
"Kiana," Father said, lightly squeezing her hand with his callused, smithy-toughened fingers. "Your mother is a healer. Although she prefers to handle the womanly ailments herself, I've had to roll up my sleeves and help deliver no less than seven pups in my lifetime. You were one of them. Do you honestly think I don't know what a pregnant vixen looks like?"
A tear leaked from her eye and fell onto her shoe, where it blasted a perfectly round little circle in a fine dusting of snow. As she watched that spot slowly begin to whiten again, she wondered what kind of a face her father was making that moment. What would she see when she inevitably had to raise her head? Would she see anger? A deep frown and a scowl? That would be preferable to what she was almost positive was actually there - sadness and bitter disappointment.
"Kiana. Look at me."
She slowly raised her head, and her gaze travelled from the creaking planks beneath their feet and up to her father's face. He was...
He was smiling?
It was a small smile, but it was also warm, so warm she could almost feel it right through the icy wind.
"I'm not mad at you, you silly girl. Standing here, in this dark place, knowing what terrible things are about to happen, knowing that so many lives might be lost tonight, how could I possibly be mad about the prospects of a brand new one in the making, hmm?"
"I'm sorry, Fa..." she said, falling back into her old way of addressing her father, back when she was just a little girl. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she was powerless to stop them. "I didn't mean to keep secrets. It just... There were so many things, one after the other, that I -"
"I understand, Kiana. Gods know I do. And if our positions were reversed, I probably would have kept it quiet for a while, too." He took her by the shoulders. "When this is over, we can all sit down, as a family, and have a nice, calm little chat to iron out all the issues, okay? But for now, all I want you to do is to go down to the camp, maybe have a drink of water, then go back to your mother and sister. They'll need all the help they can get soon enough, and I'll feel a whole lot better knowing you're somewhere where I can at least pretend you'll be safe. Can you do that for me?"
A small chuckle escaped her lips before she could even think to try and suppress it. "It's almost funny..." she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I tried so hard to keep it a secret, and all this time... If you know, then Mother definitely knows. Heck, Mellah and Renna were able to sniff it out within an hour of knowing me. Just about the only one who doesn't know is -" She wiped her sleeves across her face, laughing and crying at the same time, not knowing whether she should feel relieved, sad, embarrassed, or a combination of the three. "Layla is going to be sooooo mad at me. I can't even..."
"Hey." Father pulled a sooty old rag from his inside pocket (Kiana suspected it was the same rag he used in his smithy) and wiped her face with it. It smelled of fire, pipe smoke, and metal shavings, an unexpectedly pleasant smell she's associated with her father for as long as she could remember. "I mean, sure, she'll be huffy for a bit, but just think how ecstatic she'll be afterwards. I bet she'll want to organise a brand new party even bigger than the one she threw for the Wolves. She'll name it something stupid like 'The Scandal Party' or somesuch. You know how she loves to poke fun at stuff like that."
Kiana laughed, and this time the ratio of laughter to tears was much more one-sided. "You really do know us so well, don't you, Fa?"
"It's my job," he said and gave her nose a little pinch. "Now will you please, _please_do as you're told and stay where it's safe? If something were to happen to you or your little stowaway, I'd... I'd never be able to forgive myself."
Kiana looked back over her shoulder. The storm was coming in harder now, and she could barely make out Ander's shadow through the thick flurries of snow.
"I can't, Fa. I need to talk to Ander first. It is very, very important."
Father sighed and cast a wary eye towards the darkness inside the pass. With the wind howling through the stony passage, it really did seem like the entrance to a giant's throat, ready to swallow them whole. "You love him very much, don't you?"
"I do."
He sighed again, pulled his pipe from his front pocket and stuck it inside his mouth, despite the fact that there was no way he could possibly smoke, or even light it, in weather such as this. After a while, he nodded. "Okay, Kiana. If you promise to make it quick, and then immediately head back to your mother once you're done, I won't try to stop you."
Kiana wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "Thank you, Fa," she said and kissed him on the cheek. "I promise I'll be quick."
Father laughed, and suddenly he was back, her real father, the Fox who would contentedly puff away on his calabash pipe while leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the table. The Fox who once tried to forge a pair of 'dolls' for his baby girls out of bits of scrap metal and wire. The Fox who loved his kids so much. "You go to him and you say whatever it is you need to say."
"Okay, Father. I will." She turned around and started down the walkway, but Father tugged her back one last time.
"Oh, and Kiana?"
"Yes, Father?"
"When your mother catches you (and you know she will), I never saw you slip by. That's one chopping block you can toddle off to all by yourself. Got it?
A nervous lump spontaneously materialized in the centre of her throat and she had to swallow it down with great difficulty before responding. "Y-Yes. I got it."
He flashed her a winning smile. "Good. Now go on. I think Ander could really use a soft word right about now. He's... um..." His voice trailed off and his smile faded away. He was looking at the snow accumulating on the hard, wooden teeth of the wall, growing into misshapen clumps and breaking off again.
"Father?"
He looked up, startled, and tried to smile again. It didn't quite work. "He's hurting, Kiana. And no matter what happens tonight, he'll be hurting for a long, long time. Maybe forever."
Kiana nodded sadly. "I know."
"This isn't something you can fix, Kiana. Don't even try. You'll only set yourself up for more misery down the line. The best thing you can do for him is -"
"I know that, too, Father."
"You do?"
"Yes. Even if I try to stop it, the pain will still come. And even if I try to cover it up, the wound will still be underneath."
"So what do you plan to do?"
"I'm not going to 'fix' his pain, Father." She turned on her heel and looked into the driving snow, at the large shadow flickering beyond the thousands of falling flakes of white, stuttering in the torchlight. "I'm going to share it."
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