Ander - Part 2: Subchapter 34
34
Has he noticed? Oh dear gods, has he noticed!?
It felt like her heart had stopped when she first saw those dark spots on the ground, but now it was beating at triple speed to make up for lost time, making the pain in her midsection even worse. There was a strange heat building there now, uncomfortable, even in this cold.
She checked on Andrew, the restless little bundle in her arms. He kept pushing against the towel with his legs, mewling softly. This must be horrible for him, being outside in the cold, being jostled this way and that. This was no way for a baby to spend its first hours. It's a miracle he wasn't bawling his head off, but then a most unpleasant thought crept into Sarah's mind.
What if father had hurt him when he tried to... to strangle him? What if that's why he's being so quiet?
He's also part Wolf. Maybe Wolf cubs are just tougher?
But what if -
What's done is done and can't be undone. You've got more pressing matters to worry about, Sarah. One of them is right outside, looking for you this very moment.
"Spare the rod..." His voice came as if summoned by her thoughts. Mixed with the howling winds it sounded like the voice of a demon. "Spoil the child..."
Sarah curled her tail even tighter around her ankles, trying to make herself as small as possible.
"Spare the rod... spoil the child..."
If only she could see.
"Spare the rod..." A horrible cracking sound filled the air, so much like the bedroom door breaking free of its hinges, but different somehow. "Spoil the child..."
And now Sarah was shivering. It made the pain even worse, but she couldn't help it. She was so cold and so frightened. She held Andrew close, touching her cheek to his as she listened to the noises outside.
Underneath the roaring wind came smaller snapping sounds. Softer, but faster. She tried to imagine what could be making those sounds, but her mind couldn't come up with anything. Every time she tried she just saw that crack appear in the bedroom door, and the sliver of wood spinning through the air.
"Spare the rod... spoil the child..." Over and over again, like a mantra. His voice was slurred, but that only made his words more terrifying. "Spare the rod... spoil the child..."
Lightning danced in the sky, and in its flickering light Sarah was able to see where those snapping noises had come from.
There was a small pile of leafy twigs around her father's feet, and hanging past his knee, actually touching the ground, was the long, thick tree branch he had broken from the oaks. The end was jagged and splintery, broadening out like a club's head.
"Spare the rod... spoil the child..."
Sarah kissed her baby on the cheek and whispered a silent promise in his ear.
She promised that if he were to die this night, he wouldn't go to heaven alone.
She'd be the one to carry him through the gates.
"Spare the r -" The rest was drowned out by thunder, but she could still hear him inside her head: Spare the rod... spoil the child.
The thunder slowly faded, but his voice didn't return. What was going on out there? Even with the gale blowing outside, it felt like even the softest breath would give them away.
Think, Sarah. You can't do anything else right now, so think_. Your lives might depend on it. What was he doing right now? What could be going on outside?_ See it.
Sarah looked through the hanging roots and the roaring wind and into the darkness itself, not with her eyes, but with her imagination. She could see her father standing by the oaks with his barbaric 'rod' in his hands. She could see him looking down at the trail of blood leading to their little groove. She could see him follow it in the dark, bent over like an animal. She could see him standing over her cowering form, clutching Andrew to her chest. She could see him raise that branch and -
No! No, that's not right. There was something wrong with that image. She could feel it.
An errant gust of wind blew into their little hiding place, bringing with it a stinging barrage of leaves and twigs bathed in the icy night air, and then she knew.
The wind!
She could imagine it right now, blowing away the splattered leaves, covering the bloody patches of earth with even more. The longer they stayed hidden, the more their trail would vanish. If they could just hold out long enough -
A snapping twig, close enough to hear even over the wind, cut off her thoughts as if they were the ones being snapped in two.
Sarah held her breath, listening for all she was worth. At first she thought she was only hearing the sound of the wind outside, blowing through the leaves, but there was something else, something underneath.
A low, crackly whisper, somehow even more frightening than her father's droning mantra or the sound of him breaking the branch from its mother.
It was the sound of his new rod scraping along the forest floor, growing louder and louder with each step he took. She knew this because she could now hear his steps, too, snapping twigs and powdering the dry leaves, much too rhythmic to be a product of the chaotic wind.
By the gods, how close must he be for her to be able to hear all that? He must be standing right outside, close enough for her to reach out and touch.
Or for him to reach out and touch her.
Something crawled down from the roots above her head and skittered onto her neck, perhaps a spider. She used to be terrified of them, but that seemed so silly compared to the danger she was facing now. Oh, what she would give to be transported back to a time when spiders were considered the worst monsters in this world.
"Spare the rod... spoil the child..." He was still muttering this under his breath, repeating it to himself over and over again.
Did he know they were in here, or was he just wandering around randomly?
Sarah's lungs were beginning to burn, but she dared not take a breath. If Andrew chose this moment to start crying, or if lightning shone a light into their hiding place, or if a million other things, they would be found out, and there's nothing she could do about it.
More footsteps outside, but Sarah was having trouble figuring out if they were coming or going. She could feel another bout of dizziness coming on, making the shadows spin about her head. How much blood has she lost by now? An unhealthy amount, that's for certain.
A soft thud, just outside the boundary of their groove. Sarah's imagination conjured up an image of her father dropping down to one knee. Was he looking in at them right now, this very moment, squinting into the shadows just as she was? Would he reach in and feel around with his dirty hand, the hand that probably still had her blood all over it? Would his fingers close around Andrew's throat and tear him away for a second time? A final time?
Yet another thud, and another. Sarah couldn't imagine him dropping down to his knees multiple times, so what could be making that noise?
Thud... thud... accompanied by the soft crackle of leaves each time.
And suddenly, Sarah recognized that sound. He was doing the exact same thing he always did with his rod while overseeing his workers during the busiest seasons. He was thumping the tip against the ground like a Greyfur with his cane. Sarah could imagine the splintery end impaling dry leaves with each downward thrust, collecting their corpses on its jagged spines.
Her lungs were screaming for air, but she feared that releasing her pent up breath now would result in a gasp far louder than she dared.
If only he would move away...
Lightning flashed outside, not just once but multiple times, so close that the resounding crash of thunder came with barely a pause. She gasped, powerless to stop her lungs from sucking in fresh air. She could see her father's legs outside, almost right up against their little hole, his waist disappearing past the earthen roof. He was so close that if she decided to straighten out her legs right now she'd be able to touch his feet.
As the thunder blasted its rolling notes outside, she felt it rather than heard it; the warm flow of Andrew's breath on her face intensifying, his movements turning into convulsive jerks.
He was crying!
"Shhh... Shhh..." she whispered in his ear as the thunder started to fade, knowing full well it wouldn't do a lick of good. The only reason her father wasn't dragging her out by the hair right now was because he was standing so close. He must have been looking right over their hiding spot when the lightning struck, bathing the woods in its unforgiving white light.
But that wouldn't keep him from hearing Andrew's cries once the thunder disappeared.
There are times in our lives when we are forced into making difficult decisions, some more difficult than others. Sometimes, the wrong choice can lead to death, either for ourselves or for the ones we love the most. Sometimes, the right choice can lead to doing something that under any other circumstance could never be seen as 'right' in any way.
Sarah was faced with such a choice now. She could either let Andrew die, or she could do something that under any other circumstance could never be seen as 'right.'
In many ways, the choice was easy. Let her baby be killed, or do anything and everything in her power to save him.
Even if it meant hurting the one she was trying to protect.
She waited for Andrew to take a breath, then she closed her hand over his muzzle, blocking his breathing completely, cutting off his cries just as the last traces of thunder vanished from the sky.
A pain even worse than the one in her body tore through her heart as Andrew struggled against her hand and hot tears silently fell from her eyes, merging with a vile, burning hatred for the Fox outside she never knew she was capable of.
He was the one making her do this to her own child. He was the one forcing her to do something that screamed against every motherly instinct in her body. He was the one who would sooner see an innocent babe dead in the woods than have his family name tarnished by something only he saw as an impure monster.
"Spare the rod... spoil the child..." he whispered, making Sarah feel like she was about to go insane.
She screamed in her head for him to move, to just move, to go away and leave them alone!
One of Andrew's arms managed to slip free of the towel's binds. She could feel his tiny hand brushing against her arm, as if pleading with her to let him breathe, to let him live.
I curse you, Father, she thought. She thought this as hard and as brutally as she could in the hopes that it would be enough to strike her father dead where he stood. I curse you for making me feel like a murderer to my own son. I curse you for rejecting this miracle out of greed and ignorance. I curse you for raising your hand against my mother. I curse you for laying your hands on my baby. I curse you for claiming to do all this out of love. I curse you by taking back any love I once had for you and giving it to the one you are trying so desperately to kill. I curse you by never loving you ever again.
I curse you.
"Spare the rod... spoil the child..." he whispered, then slowly started to move away.
Sarah hardly dared to believe it, but there was no mistaking it. The crunching of leaves underfoot, the soft scraping of his branch against the earth, they were all moving away, fading until they were swallowed by the roaring wind.
But was this a trick? Some kind of trap to lure her out of her hiding place?
She waited, every second like torture, until she couldn't stand it any longer. She removed her hand from Andrew's mouth and sighed in relief as he cried out in her arms; long, gasping wails.
"I'm sorry, Andrew," she whispered, covering his sweet face with kisses. "I'm so, so sorry..." She wondered if he could understand, or if he only knew the pain this vixen had caused him. "I'm sorry..."
She half-expected Andrew to shy away from her, but he surprised her yet again. He reached out for her. She could barely see him in the gloom, but she could feel his arm against her neck, grabbing at her fur, pulling on her hair.
She wanted nothing more than to hug her baby to her chest right here in this hollow, where they were shielded from the wind. They could fall asleep together... and dream of better things.
Maybe they could dream forever.
"Andrew..." she said. "I don't know if I can keep going... It hurts so bad..."
In her tired, shattered mind, she expected Andrew to help her back up somehow. He did it before, didn't he? He was able to take the pain away...
He only cried. He was a baby, after all. Babies cry. It's what they do. Because they can't take care of themselves. They need a parent to watch out for them.
Some parent you're turning out to be.
"No..."
You can't stay here, Sarah, the voice whispered. She used to hate that voice so much, always attacking her in her weakest moments, but this time was different. He'll be back. You have to be gone by then.
"But it hurts..."
What will hurt more? Getting up or watching Father wring your baby's neck? Those are your only options.
Sarah closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It was the only way she could think of to prepare herself for what she was about to do. "I'll try..."
He went South. You need to go North. Just keep the mountain on your left and don't look back.
"It's so dark..."
Sarah, you've walked these woods a thousand times. You'll find it. You have to.
"Okay."
Go. Now.
The pain was still there, even while sitting perfectly still, throbbing like it had a heartbeat of its own, like it was a living thing. How much worse would it get after she tried to move again?
"Come on, Sarah. Just do it." That didn't come from any voice in her head. That was all her. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, and slowly started to get back up.
She didn't let any images of flaming swords or white-hot spears enter her mind this time. Pain is pain, and no amount of frilly imaginings would make it any better. She cried out as she got back on her feet, hunched over in this cramped space, and shuffled forward like an old crone. The wind slammed into her body as she left the safety of the earthen groove, nearly knocking her clean over, stinging her eyes and cheeks with what felt like tiny needles. Andrew started to cry even harder, and the only thing Sarah could do for him was to turn her back on the howling wind, trying to shield him as best she could.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she straightened her back and stood up straight, feeling like she was nailed to a torture rack. Her dress pulled away from her sticky fur in the most unpleasant of ways, making a sound like corn being husked.
The sky was still as pitch as ever, but there was something different about it now, not seen, but felt. There was a humidity in the air, thick and cloying. She could taste it on her tongue. The storm would break soon, and she'd better not be stumbling around in the woods when it did.
Sarah lowered her head, the ends of her cloak billowing out in front of her, and walked as fast as she could, keeping the hulking shadow of the Cora to her left, ignoring the pain that shot through her body with each step, feeling like the wind itself was pushing her along, telling her to hurry.
Sometimes, she could hear the voice of her father carried by the wind, calling out to her, telling her that it would all be for the best, that to spare the rod is to spoil the child.
Sarah ignored it all, even when his voice grew heavy to her ears, even when his demands changed into pleas. As she weaved between the trees with hot blood constantly flowing down her thighs, she thought she might have heard him yell for her to please, please come back.
Sarah didn't know if that was just wishful thinking or an outright hallucination, or if it made a difference either way.
She steadily worked her way deeper and deeper into the embrace of the Cora, until she found the tear in the mountain's flesh.
She never looked back, not even when the wind carried the last words she would hear from her father this night.
I'm sorry, Sarah! Please come back! I'm sorry!
She never looked back.
The "worse" in the third sentence marks the 100 000th word! Woohoo! :P
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