Solo 38-40 Summer 514: Through the Brain

[Fyra Ashworth]

Fyra rarely went hunting without Col by her side. She didn't have the tracking skills to be very successful on her own. Nevertheless, there were some times when she needed to be by herself.

Fyra tried to walk quietly, her eyes keen for any movement, but so far there was nothing. "If I were an animal," Fyra thought, "I wouldn't want to be out in this heat either." Sun peered through the treetops. It was mid day. Fyra's braid stuck to the back of her neck with sweat.

Two days ago, she had overheard Uncle Nicolas and Aunt Eda talking about how the city was becoming more and more dangerous. Something about drugs and gangs and polluted water. It was not the first time Fyra had noticed people worriedly whispering. Whenever she went into the city to sell her wares, hushed voices filled the streets, punctuated by the occasional wolf-crier. Fyra feared these men most of all.

She had been having the same nightmare, over and over. In it, she walked through the city with Col, prepared to sell the profits of that day's hunt. A man without a face stopped them. He grabbed Fyra's wrists hard, forcing her hands to open and reveal the scars upon them. "Witch!" he screamed. Then he would tear off her shirt, exposing the two long scars running down her back. Fyra gasped, half naked, and looked at Col. She expected to see pity or fear, but his hazel eyes were narrowed with hatred.

That is when she would wake up, tossing on the top bunk.

Fyra felt as if there was no air, only tension. She needed to breathe. There was plenty of air in the woods. Fyra only wished that there was more prey.

Yesterday, when they were hunting, Fyra talked to Col about the worrisome events happening in Sunberth. Col shrugged and said, "It's a city. Cities have problems," which made Fyra tighten her already closed hands. She didn't often get frustrated with her cousin. Col's optimism usually made her smile. Not now, though. Fyra could sense that something was brewing, something dangerous. It was more than just her dreams. Uncle Nicolas and Aunt Eda were worried, too.

This morning, Aunt Eda was sitting on the doorstep before dawn. Fyra was usually the first person awake. As she went outside to join her aunt, she got the feeling that Aunt Eda was waiting for her.

"Hello Fyra. How are you?" Aunt Eda greeted. Her voice, usually as cheerful as Col's, sounded hollow. She stared ahead at the dark grey sky.

"I'm well. How are you?"

"I am...," Aunt Eda sighed. "I am concerned. Col has too much of my kindness and not enough of his father's sense, so he doesn't see what is happening. Nicola is preoccupied in her own affairs. And you... well, you can see, can't you?"

I nodded, slowly.

"Please," Eda grabbed Fyra's closed hands, "keep this hidden."

"I know," Fyra whispered, moving her hands away, behind her back. Aunt Eda was the only one who knew Fyra's secret.

"I know you do," Aunt Eda said. A grin played at the edges of her lips.

"What?" Fyra asked, referring to the smile.

"It's nothing. I should start breakfast." Aunt Eda went inside.

As Fyra lay down a trap, she thought about Aunt Eda's smile. She knew exactly what it meant. It was the smile she wore when Fyra reminded her of Eda's sister, Elyna. Fyra did not remember her mother at all, and she didn't really care to think about her. She loved Aunt Eda; Eda was a mother to her, as Uncle Nicolas was a father, and Col and Nicola were siblings. She wished that she really was Col's twin, born and bred in Sunberth. Fyra wished that her history was simple, untouched by mystery or magic. But one cannot wish away the past.

[Fyra Ashworth]

A crow cawed loudly, making Fyra jump as she walked. She realized that she had been completely inside her own head, unaware of her surroundings. That was not a good way to hunt. Maybe trying to keep these thoughts in wasn't right. But who could she trust with them?

Not Col. He wouldn't take it seriously enough. And definitely not Nicola, who would scorn at least half of what Fyra would say. Uncle Nicolas and Aunt Eda were worried enough without her thoughts. That just left...

Elauni. Maybe Fyra could talk to her. That would mean going into town, though. The idea of facing the wolf-criers sent shivers down her spine. Not to mention that she would have to make the journey alone if she wanted a private audience with her friend. And even if Fyra could get to Elauni, she wouldn't be able to talk to her about what was really troubling her most: Fyra's scars, those cursed marks that labeled her as magical and dangerous. Trouble in Sunberth meant she had to worry twice as much as everyone else.

A piercing scream, high pitched and child-like, cracked the air. Fyra recognized it at once; that was the noise of a frightened young rabbit. She ran back to her trap. Sure enough, the rabbit was caught in the snare, its leg mangled and bloody. It was thin, barely big enough to be worth the kill, but the creature would not survive even if Fyra were to free it. It would never run again.

Fyra pulled out her knife, prepared to stab it in the eye. Normally, she had no problem killing, but something made her pause. Maybe it was the wideness of the animal's eyes. It was so young, so afraid.

"Why are you doing this, Father?" Fyra had cried when her father cut her hands. He never answered her. She was just a child.

Fyra stabbed the rabbit in its left eye, directly through the brain. The creature twitched for a moment, then lay still.

Fyra sighed deeply. Then she grabbed the rabbit and returned home, doing her very best not to think.

[Fyra Ashworth]

Aunt Eda was the only one home. "Oh good. You're back. Nicolas and Col are still out hunting. You didn't go with them?" she asked, though it seemed like she already knew the answer.

"No. I needed time to think."

Aunt Eda nodded. She understood. "I see you brought back a rabbit. It's a little too small to make a profit on. Why don't you help me cook it up?"

"Me? Where's Nicola?" Fyra had seen her female relatives cook before, but she had no idea how they did it.

"Nicola is out," Eda said bluntly.

"Out? Alone?" Fyra was surprised. Nicola rarely left the house.

"No. With a young gentleman."

Fyra laughed. "Nicola is out with a boy?!"

"Yes," Eda answered. "They've been seeing each other for months now."

Fyra's mouth paused mid laugh. She shut it, and narrowed her eyes. How had she not noticed? Thinking back, she realized that Nicola had been kinder lately. Fyra had caught her smiling a few times, but she'd assumed that it was an antagonistic smile, that Nicola was thinking up something else wrong with her cousin. Fyra hadn't thought of Nicola as having a life outside the home. Could a girl be a lady, the way that Nicola aimed to be, and still enjoy herself?

"Oh," Fyra managed to say.

Uncle Nicolas and Col came in before Fyra could say more.

"Hey Fyra!" Col piped. "How are you? Look what we caught!"

Slung over Uncle Nicolas's back was a dead deer. He was grinning, a smudge of the animal's blood staining his greying beard. "We're going to go sell it, but we'll be back soon," Nicolas explained. "Will dinner be ready when we get back?"

"Of course, dear." Aunt Eda still smiled at her husband like he was the most handsome man in Mizahar. "Fyra is going to help me."

"Fyra? But Fyra can't cook," Col said. He stated it as a fact, not an insult, but Fyra saw it as a challenge.

"I can cook better than you!" she spat.

"Nuh-uh!" Col retorted.

"Well, we'll just see when you come back, won't we?" Fyra grinned.

"Yeah," Col smirked. "We will."

Uncle Nicolas and Col left then, taking the deer with them. Fyra noticed that it was a large buck. It would fetch a good price.

[Fyra Ashworth]

"You're going to start by skinning that rabbit. Here, use this knife. It has a serrated edge, so it will be easier to get the skin off. Try not to cut too deep. You want to leave the meat intact," Aunt Eda instructed.

The skinning part came very naturally to Fyra. She was used to handling knives. Granted, she usually used them for stabbing, not for cutting, but still.

The roasting part was not as easy.

"Is it done yet?" Fyra asked as she turned the skewer over the fire.

"No. The meat hasn't turned color yet. You just started cooking it, Fyra. You have to be patient."

Fyra groaned. She hated the still helplessness of waiting. Even when she was waiting for prey to appear, at least Fyra could walk around. That was not the case with cooking. She watched, occasionally turning the rabbit.

It was then that Nicola came home. Fyra observed her more carefully than usual. She noticed that her cousin's face was flushed in the cheeks, and that her eyes had a certain glimmer to them. Nicola sat down on her bunk, the bottom one, and let out a deep breath. "He's the one, Mother. He has to be," Nicola said, her voice airy.

"How do you know?" Eda asked. "Has he proposed?"

"No, nothing like that. But I just know. Today I went over to his family's farm just outside the city. He picked me these beautiful little yellow flowers and strung them into my hair." Nicola giggled.

"Nicola, giggling?" Fyra thought, but she didn't say anything.

"Fyra? You should check on the rabbit. I think it's burning," Nicola said, wrinkling her nose.

"Fyra!" Aunt Eda scolded.

Sure enough, the rabbit was beginning to brown. It was not badly burnt yet, but it was definitely overcooked. Fyra took it off the skewer according to Aunt Eda's instructions. She began to cut it into pieces while Eda and Nicola prepared some sort of vegetable assortment. It was all ready by the time that Uncle Nicolas and Col returned.

[Fyra Ashworth]

"Something is going on at the Simpering Sea Cow!" Col blurted out as soon as he was through the doorway. "And it's really gross!"

Fyra looked at Uncle Nicolas to see if Col was being truthful. Nicolas just looked weary. "Let's not talk about it now, Col. How about we eat first?"

"But Dad! The blood!" Col complained. "It came out their eyes!"

"Col!" Enough!" Uncle Nicolas shouted. He never yelled at anyone unless it was urgent. Col closed his mouth immediately. A hush fell over the room.

Aunt Eda was the first one to speak. "Fyra cooked a decent rabbit."

"It's a little burnt," Nicola added.

"Not bad for a first try, though," Uncle Nicolas assured his niece.

The table was quiet again. Fyra imagined that each person was too wrapped up in his or her thoughts to carry out a conversation. They all went to bed early, although Fyra spent some time staring at the ceiling before she fell asleep. When she finally did go to sleep, she found herself in the same nightmare, only now the wolf-crier's left eye was missing, with blood pouring from its socket.

[Zandelia]

Fyra :

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