Awakened spirit - chapter 3
Slowly her eyes lifted open and saw the new world she was brought too.
The dark sky was framed by broad timbers and steep peaked roofs of narrow tall two and three story buildings that surrounded her, making up this small village along the 6 meter wide dirt road that obligingly followed the river's path. Picturesque, it could be called, as long as your view was from a good distance that properly hide the truth of the matter. Degradation and rot was the norm for the houses and multi-use business with upstairs apartments that proclaimed residency here.
The structures wore no paint save their doors that displayed in a thin wash of muted variety apparently found no place else. Their grayed tan wall sections were rough mud coated straw, framed by thick rounded tree trunks whose only preparation before assembly was stripping off the bark. In many places the weathered and chipped mud that substantiated the home's protection was revealing the strands of their make prominently.
It was dirty. The smell of waste and sweat by the people there was prolific. Though they were surely no different than any other person she has met or known, being castigated and bound as she was took away any tolerance for their condition. She secretly conceptualized the black plague at this very moment ravaging through their ranks.
As almost a perfect reflection of this impossible wish, the eyes of the few people that walked along the thoroughfare before her were just as deadly. Each would lash verbally at Abby with threats and condemnation for her accused wild ways. Or so she guessed with no concept of what they spoke. It was strange that not a word in their tongue that made any sense to her. She knew and spoke three languages, and not a single word could be construed. All she had to rely on was human nature and their blatant facial expressions.
For the likely spectacle that would begin in the morning, they had her bound stomach upwards overtop a wooden block like table in the center of this village's street. Arms, pulled so taunt they felt as if a single wayward bump would dislodge them from her shoulders, were tied to one side of a thickly constructed, overly used table reeking of feces and rancid meat. Her feet were similarly tied excessively tight on the opposing side.
If she had any blood flow available to her arms and legs, the never ending pain would have likely woken her long ago. She imagined limbs starved of blood, and it turned her stomach in knots, but their condition was a lesser concern.
It was late. What was sunset not long ago, now held high a moon in its waxing form slowly coursing through the starry sky as stoic and lifeless as ever. It mirrored her own heart all to well. Abby imagined there would be a pyre built not far away, and her body would be placed upon it. Alive, most likely. But not until after whatever horrible procedure these backwoods sycophants had devised to un-witch her. That act was evident. It filled deep all the pours of this wood. Unashamedly foretelling of an unavoidable future.
She wanted to cry for help. For one of the people here to take pity on her; break her free, then secretly ferry her across the wide calm river. She imagined their escape with a glance. Docked on a series of wooden piers of the most humble make were several rowboats of various sizes, likely for fishing, were tied by crude rope as her hands and feet. it would be easy to steal any of them in a rush.
The dream died when she looked further into the waters beyond the peirs.
What last remaining hope she had that she was actually truly home though deposited in a forgotten slavic village ignored by time, as a late night movie would explain, evaporated with the sight of the tall ship anchored just off shore. It was nothing like anything she had ever seen. Abby knew full well, this was like no one ever built in all of history. It was theoretically impossible.
Looking as a literally halved ship. The center of normal sailing ship has properly balanced masts and body that bowed outwards from the very center in both directions. This was not what these people used for traveling great distances.
This ship's hull was purposely built askew like a quarter of a watermelon. It had two masts that were attached firmly against its side, balanced over the ship's hull by a high braced boom leveraged fully across the opposite side of the craft. The only similarities she could determine were ropes binding furled gray-white sails and what appeared to be a front mounted cabin.
She let her eyes fall from the hopelessness of her situation, then promptly exacerbated the futility of escape as 2 armed men that stood beside her helpless form took focus. That they would make sure the Witch would perform no magical escapes; their slated vile intent. Each carried a brutish sword on their leather belts that was in no way elegant or decorative. Its only purpose in creation was to kill, there was no mistaking that.
She considered these people. Crude, uncomplicated, and base. It was nothing like being part of a novel period piece. That questionable fiction she indulged between research journals. Where promises of fated characters find happiness against all conceivable odds emboldened with genius zeal. As much as that situation would be preferred, at least the fear of a lifetime in a deep dungeon until her prince came from the oversea war would be avoided. There was also the possibility she might be cursed to haunt these villagers if those tales were real. It might sound fun for a few weeks, but she imagined that wouldn't be true after a few decades. Neither imagined prospect sat well with her expectations of an afterlife that was actually supposed to be an after life, as the name implied.
Her ex-husband, though looked the part, certainly wouldn't be playing the roll of the deeply trouble man who through persistant relations with her would find balance and and give his love unconditionally to her. His narcissistic bent would turn anything into a event to praise his idolized perfection. That's no love story at all.
There was little she could do but wait. Held in bindings that were not going to be worked free in her condition. Definitely not while watched by men who would sooner slit her throat and go to bed early than contemplate compassionate release. There was left nothing in terms of options.
'A third could exist,' she brooded. Maybe she could send herself into a sleep until it was all over. 'The stench of this table that would serve as the torturer's platform for a disembowelment,' she approached darkly. 'That would definitely not permit walling up my mind.'
Abby's mind ran through the past two days memories. Going over what had been thrust upon her and if there was anyway she could change the outcome, 'maybe if I listened to my instincts? Maybe if I went another way. Maybe if I could have taken some time and came to this village as a besieged traveler in public? They wouldn't have hurt me then, would they?'
Blood was having difficulty leaving her head due to gravity on her contorted position. Voices talking to one another started to mingle into her thoughts. Some whispered so quietly that they could not be made out sensibly, a few were brief and vanished almost instantly speaking of nonsense. Though the pain that throbbed in her muscles and joints, Abigail felt for the madness that bordered her consciousness. She wanted nothing more than to give up and drown in the confusion. There was no escaping her fate. All that was left was to make it easier.
'Hello! Would you like to talk,' she asked the soft voice that whispered close enough to allow her to mentally thrust herself upon them.
'Two legs,' a small voice cried in fear then slipped suddenly from her reach.
'That failed, I'll have to find someone else to take me away.' Setting herself to listen intently once more, thoughts reached for everything at once. A murmur from a place far away, but strong, caught her attention, and she sought out the words with purpose.
They came clearer as she figuratively neared, 'You smell that,' asked a voice that was old and deep. She pulled herself towards the thoughts, holding separate from them as best she could with no regard for her sanity. 'Land walkers were here not long ago,' another voice spoke with a female's quality in question. The first, definitely a male, clarified, 'Yes. A hunter searching for us you think?'
Abby tried to introduce herself slowly, but her eagerness to flee reality could not maintain such a patient outlook. She forced her thoughts onto them in eagerness, 'I know Hunters. See, they captured me. Maybe they want to do to you too what they did to me?'
There was a pause from the thoughts she was hearing, then a small cautious string of words came forward from the female, 'Witch, you let us be. We not do your biding, leave us to the peace of our den and our fish!'
'I don't mean,' she recoiled at the accusation, 'I can't even do that. I just want someone to talk to while I still can.'
The male near the female, refuted the claim soundly, 'I know you, Witch. I know you can do what you please when you bear such fear.' The roared of threat tainted comanding words, 'We are not your puppets, begone!'
'I just don't want to be alone right now,' she pleaded to them, but instead a repulsive force struck soundly, pushing her away as their response. She didn't fight the force that moved her back. It lessened quickly and evaporated, but there was now a large space between them. She tried to reach for the two again, recalling where they had been, but there was a new force surrounding where she guessed the two were, protecting them, silencing them from her attempts to connect.
Rejected, Abigail drew back to the center of herself. She started to understand there was a strange way for her to reach for these voices, but they would not have her. There was no one in her thoughts reach that would care to engage or embrace her presense. The madness she sought would not be so easily found.
She brought her concentration to her body and the pain, wallowing in the coming fate hungrily. Muscles bruised and tired came and filled her senses. The dig of the table edges into her back that ached hot added to the noise that was gathering in her mind as a storm. A head that bore a deep sharp spike of cold came easily, then merged with the others as strikes of lighting. She gave them power with focused self loathing and set them free to consume whatever they wished.
'Why,' asked a quiet voice in thoughts.
Abby did not care to respond. The madness she sought would not take her, so instead she had to create her own through pain. The sound of whining from several dogs in the village caught her hearing and this emboldened her further. Just like when that hound was forced to let go in her capture, the dogs would feel this pain, and this vengeance would be her attack against the villagers.
'Please,' the voice clearer, a male cowered in tone, begged, 'What did we do?'
Her will was set and continued to send the feelings she endured to all that her mind could reach, venomously desiring to make all feel these last hours suffering. She sensed an undercurrent of commotion and panic building from those that had skitishly avoided her earlier attempts to connect. The pain she channeled was too strong to hear anything clearly in the minds that surfaced. Except this one who was forcing himself into her with great power.
'Witch, tell me why you do this to us,' the voice pleaded. 'We have done nothing to you, yet you wish to harm us all? Why do yo do this?'
Abby had no clear answer but hate for its own sake. The question proposed, tendriled and grew slowly and steadily breaking down her torrent. Seeming to take a life of its own as she considered her selfish actions. Little by little the pains in her body took less focus in her thoughts. Instead the question of this male's rooted and grew strong.
'Because I will,' was all that would come from Abby.
The male voice probed the reason tentatively, 'do you honor us so little, Witch?'
'What does it matter,' she spurned all life with a broad wide brush. 'You call me a Witch and not a person. Why should I care? These people call me less, and will take me in the morning with less care than cattle. If no one thinks I deserve to live, then why should I care?' She shouted at the male indignant, 'why, I ask you? Why?'
Tears pooled and released from her eyes with bottomless helplessness, rolling along her cheeks to spill onto the ground. The confusion of this place and her own part in coming to it was unanswerable, and this male wanted what could not be had.
'Then you renew this punishment on us for nothing but to feed pity,' he asked disappointed. 'Witch, you shame your kind. You are lesser than the least of us to do so. I will endure your hate and we will rejoice at your end.'
She felt the words sting as much as the wounds the villagers caused. With building remorse she called out to the male, 'please. Don't leave me alone.'
There was a quiet from the male and the stir of the other voices surrounding her reach began to grow in prominence. 'Find me and let the others be,' he finally answered conditionally. 'I will bear this for them, once. I have eaten already, and I have no distraction that needs take me till you leave us. Find me, and I will gift you company.'
She spread her understanding to locate the male that was speaking, but the awakened thoughts of others was causing it to be muddied. Their words reached her too easily with her immersion in thoughts, taking her further and further from her intentions, 'where are you? I do not see you anywhere.'
The male said clearly ad recited repeatedly, 'I am here. Ignore the rest and listen only to me. Ignore the others that you know, and think of only me. Come to me as I can not go to you. Closer, Witch. Come closer and you will know me.'
Through the murmurs the male's voice became her only end. Entangling herself in his voice, she arrived by the source and pulled closer. Making the space between the two smaller and smaller until there seemed no distance more to go.
The other did not fight, but guided her willingly. His voice came loud in hers drowning all else, 'closer, Witch. You are almost here with me.'
She lost the connection of feeling the table bore as she placed herself in his. Her sounding nerves went still and numb. She felt the male's own self before her, and it's warm soft form allowed her entry. Slipping into the space she filled it completely and perfectly. A great weight rose and fell in deep breath. It was hers. Searching and finding with a familiarity she should not possess, her eyes opened to see what had happened.
Instead of the night sky above the village, she saw from the ground trees and fallen leaves. Undergrowth that hinted at deep greens and a long gray muzzle that was now hers. She rejoyced elated, 'I am free. I am an.. Animal. but I'm free.'
'You take too much, Witch. This is mine, and I let you come be part of me. You are not free. When your body dies, so will your mind.' He questioned her concerned that this would turn into a very poor trade, 'Do you not even know what you are doing?'
'I have never been a witch, I don't know how or why I can do these things. I only do. I don't understand any of this at all. But it doesn't matter. I told you. I will be executed in the morning. And as you say, I will die no matter where my mind is.'
'I think I understand. Will you simply rest here with me till then and try not to do anything with my body? I would not like to have you attempt to attack the villagers at the cost of my life.'
'I can do that,' she brought the males head up from laying on the ground and began to stand with full control as if it were always hers.
'No! I didn't mean to give you ideas. Please, don't take my moment of compassion and turn it to rot, Witch!"
'I, didn't mean. I just,' She let his body return to laying on the ground carefully. Making sure to find a position that felt right. 'I am sorry.'
'It's all right, Witch. I am starting to see you know far less than little. More akin to nothing at all. And I only have my blood to recall from to know you by.' He settled his concerns and gifted a small piece of trust to Abby, 'maybe hearing of me will let you forget what you face and let you bear the time until you fall by their hands with calm.'
'Call me Abby. I am not a witch, though maybe I can do what you say they can.'
'I am Leaf, if you wish my given name, Abby. Carry me to the creek to your left and I will tell you how I come her alone. I believe you think you are thirsty, even though I need no water. It will do no harm if you would like to indulge in that idea.'
Abigail slowly centered his body and picked it off the ground to tread carefully towards the direction he explained. His voice was patient and calm as he began his story with a full recounting of his brothers and sisters, father and mother from the pack he had left behind. Detailing each of their coat's colors and patterns by words and visual memories entwining their scents with the retelling to place Abby there with his kin.
The lip of the creek was before her, and she peered over the small drop into the slow moving waters. In the light of the moon, she could see the wolf's reflection and see him fully. Gray in the face and body and white in the chest. Starting from behind his ears, several progressively sized dark gray swaths developed and curled around his body to end in a blackened tail. 'You are beautiful, Leaf. Like each of your family is.'
'I thank you, Abby,' he accepted graciously and began his tale now that introductions had finished. 'A year ago, when I was three, I came to see my pack for what it was. It was my family and my life. I wanted nothing more than to make them proud of me. Honoring my blood in all things that were. I could not bring myself to challenge the leader for what he had made of us. I could not, with my heart, accept lesser as a follower and feel I have been true to myself. So I took to the land in search of another who I could call mate, and bring praise to our blood. Begin a new pack with my blood and hers. Bring our own pups to this world, creating a new branch that would .'
'I can understand. I have one of my own. Thomas is his name,' she added letting his life meet with her own and find similarity. 'He's ten now.'
'It is well that I had been near. Tell me of his upbringing if you would like as I would enjoy to here and see his tales. We have much time until the sun rises.'
'Can you first show me. Show me where you were raised and born before I try that?'
'That would be more than fine,' Leaf agreed easily and began to recall the sights of his pack's territory.
Chapter 4: http://sofurry.com/page/132452/user