View Full Version : [M] Never Born [Auki & G]
Rated [M] for violence and gore and stuff.
Sweat, toil. The chill of the air felt harsh against his burning body, fired by exertion. His gnarled hands were coated in grime, blackened by soil, a peasant's trophy for a hard day's work. Damp clothes itched, but his thoughts made no complaint. He was lucky to have them on his back, more fortunate than others he had seen within the village. Although not noble, there were many who would envy him. Even more who would be jealous of the beautiful woman he had managed to snatch into marriage. With gentle curves and graceful face, he was sure the gods had tricked her into spending her life with a man like him.
And now, despite his previous luck, he was being blessed again. A child of their own, after so long of trying. The idea of being an infant's father touched a tender spot in his heart, one rarely seen by any but his lover.
It only built on the excitement that he would see her soon, trekking through the village with a bounce to his step. To have her close, to hold her body... A smile spread across his face, brightening his features as he waved to passersby and heartedly greeted them.
Their house was little more than a shack, an amalgamation of wattle, daub and stray pieces of wood; in the end, however, it was home. Glassless windows revealed nothing, the shadows hiding details. Disappointment struck when he could not catch a glimpse of his wife's pale face.
Strangely, the feeling sparked his grin to grow wider as he realized how sentimental he was becoming. His wife was supposed to be the emotional one, right? That had never really been her style though...
"Alyss? I'm home!"
In contrast to his expectations, silence was his only reply for the following moments.
The sound the water made as it hit the cold floor seemed abnormally loud.
It almost echoed, Alyss thought, her mournful expression tinged with the faintest hint of surprise as she looked down at the damp little circle the tear had made on the stone.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd shed one.
She'd always kept them carefully under control, those willful, powerful emotions that caused a person to cry. Some emotions you couldn't help, of course. Alyss had never been able to help the fire she felt when she looked at her husband, as much as she'd resisted it at first.
She could reason her way out of friends, even out of any real bond to her family. But the heart has its own ways.
Oh, my heart...
There was no room in her for reason any longer.
Certainly, anyone who was to look at her now would agree it had completely left her. Her hair clung to her face and neck in dark tendrils, still wet from washing. The small basin she had filled lay overturned a few feet away from where Alyss huddled, her skin, exposed to the cold, smeared with goosebumps. Tugging at the undergarments she wore in a vain attempt to warm herself, she heard him call.
"Alyss? I'm home!"
The sound was muffled as it reached her ears, as though she were hearing it from under water, and when she tried to respond, she found her body unresponsive to her commands. There was a long moment of silence as she struggled with her tongue.
"Sams..," she managed finally, then fell silent, her arms clenched fiercely, protectively around her stomach.
Her eyes were dry now, the sorrow in them overshadowed with cold fury and resignation. She wouldn't cry again.
His simple shoes spread dirt upon the dusted floorboards, firm despite his feel of doubt. Wariness at abnormality - that hunter instinct boiled strongly; his senses became alert to every shifting of the air. His breath seemed loud against his ears, his chest heavy-
"Sams…"
-and in a moment, it was gone. The tension - perhaps irrational now he thought about it –faded, replaced with concern. Her voice, the way it trailed off on the final syllable… his smile faltered, worried. The lines around his eyes, never noticed by the outside world, deepened as his gaze swept across the house, his tired feet carrying him through the different rooms until he found her…
Hunched, hugging her stomach. Although he couldn’t see her face behind the waves of jet-dark hair, it was clear she wasn’t happy. Oblivious as he might be to the workings of a woman’s mind, the backward logic behind their fickle anger, he’d been married long enough for him to know… to sense when things were really wrong.
“My love?” he questioned, a hand reaching to her shoulder, trying to pull her close so he might see her smile.
The touch of his fingers, rough and calloused from hard labour, pulled her from her stupour, just enough to lift her head, to look into his concerned eyes.
"Sams.." she repeated, the word a safeguard, something to cling to. When she felt the light tug on her shoulder, her body responded instantly, her head curling around to rest in the nook between chin and chest, her hands snaking beneath his arms to clasp tightly around him. She clutched to him for a long while, as close as she could hold herself, breathing in the familiar scent he always carried; rich and earthy, salty, warm. It was alright; everything would be alright.
But she had to tell him. It seemed a long time, between this realisation and her failed inner efforts to formulate a sentence in the moments after. Finally, she gave up. She didn't have the words.
Alyss closed her eyes and let her arms fall to her sides, shifting away from Sams to let his eyes tell him what she could not.
Her belly rose in only the slightest of curves - there was no sign, yet, of the life that was growing within. None except the purple-black bruise, vibrant against her pale skin; an angry crescent moon that began above her left hipbone and ran across the bottom of her stomach.
Still she couldn't speak. Her eyes seemed glued to the floor. She didn't know if she could bear it, to see in Sams' eyes what she knew must be in her own.
He stroked her hair until the moment she pulled away, his gut flipping as the silence lengthened onwards. The shadows of the fading day played lightly on her face, accenting her strong features in their misery. He only wished to know what had upset her so and yet, when his eyes travelled downwards, he asked only to return to ignorance. The dark-purple mark was unavoidable, laced across the white of skin, a symbol that had only haunted nightmares previous. Now, his worst fears – ones that he convinced himself would never happen – were becoming true.
Falling to his knees before her, he placed his hands against it, pressing firmly as though the warmth of loving fingertips might make it disappear. It was still so early in the pregnancy, barely a bump upon her beautiful form. The village wise-woman hadn’t even been able to predict the child’s gender yet. Numbness took him over, an uncertainty on how to react. His plans, his hopes, his entire world… it all crashed into despair within a moment.
And on top of nothing, there built an incontrollable anger. His hands trembled; he moved away from her. Before he had time to put thought behind the motion, his fist had dented the soft material of the nearby wall.
An almost indiscernible sigh escaped Alyss' lips as Sams' warm hands pressed against her belly, shielding the bruise, and the horror it brought with it, from her eyes. Even if it couldn't last, it still provided some small relief, and she felt her muscles relax, just a fraction.
Then, in an instant, her husbands' instinctual, protective gesture became an angry outburst. She flinched as his fist hit the wall; and immediately felt both surprised and a little angry at herself for doing so. Sams had never been violent towards her, not ever, and she didn't think he ever would. The shock served, at least, to rouse her frozen limbs; just as quickly as he had risen from her side she returned to his, wrapping his balled up hand in hers to hold it close against her chest.
"We... what are we...." she fumbled with her thoughts, not really sure what she was trying to say. She had watched this happen to so many women, so many families, and never once given a smile, or a kind word. Never let herself care. Maybe she deserved this; maybe it was her punishment...
No. Looking into her lovers' eyes, she knew it wasn't true. Sams' emanated everything she was unable to give. She had never met a better man, a better husband, a better person. He didn't deserve this.
"I won't let it have him."
She heard her voice as though it was someone else's, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost before she thought them; both a promise, and a plea.
"We... what are we...."
The moment her soft voice escaped into the room, he felt guilty for releasing his anger in her presence. She was in a delicate state already; the woman did not need to carry his burdens as well. No one did. He had told his friends so many times – “It’ll be okay” - when they suffered this same fate, encouraging them to try for parenthood again when the pain had faded. Now it seemed his words were merciless; never could he have imagined how much agony the demon’s mark could cause, not until he was now experiencing it himself.
"I won't let it have him."
Although the whispered words had not been firm, they’d spoken truth.
“Neither will I.”
He’d expected his agreement to sound hollow, a promise that would be broken, but it resonated with determination. His mouth was a hard line, teeth clenched, ready.
“I think-… I think we need to escape.”
Alyss felt her heart lift a little at his response. But although she had already known his next words to be truth, hearing them aloud set her heart to pounding, a low heat burning in her ears, whispering fear... and excitement? A ridiculous emotion, especially given the circumstances. She breathed deeply, a long, slow breath; and crushed the thrill that had sprouted at the thought of freedom, pushing it way down into the shadowy corners of her mind, where her compassion and her concern lay tired and dusty from lack of use.
She nodded to her lover, her grim but focused expression matching his, and crossed the dim room to a rickety shelf, bundling the slim provisions it supported into her arms. A hunk of crusty bread; several apples from the small tree that grew behind their home; a stick of goats' cheese; a few wild mushrooms; a little rabbit meat. Her brows furrowed as she piled the scanty amount of food into the battered satchel she usually used to collect firewood. Could they do this?
No one had ever made it out... she couldn't remember, now she'd thought about it, actually knowing anyone who'd tried. The stories were enough to scare the idea from most minds.
She paused in her preparations, a half-folded, coarse, woven blanket in her hands, and looked again at Sams. Her eyes searched his, seeking reassurance, solace... she didn't know.
And the moment her gaze caught his eye, he knew what he needed to do. Be strong for her, be strong for himself. If he didn’t find the will to play a façade, the man knew he would crumble beneath his doubt…
…So he smiled, radiating as much warmth as he could, concentrating on his love for his wife and their child. Even as she rushed about to organise their departure, he could only think of his affection – It was so her to stay focused even in such hardship, to show determination when other women would have shown tears. Without those fierce eyes, he might not have had the courage to face the day.
In one hand, he picked up his hoe, a tool he’d only ever used for farming before that day. It might not be a warrior’s weapon, but the smooth wood handle was familiar against his palm. The iron head seemed wicked in the dying sun.
His other hand extended towards her, asking her to take it and hold on tight.
“Once we leave the village walls, the demon will know of our plan. Can you run in your state?”
"Yes," she breathed, the words low but sure. At least the demon had given them forewarning. She had seen women almost reach the end, their bellies swollen and enormous before the bruise made its unwelcome appearance.
Their baby had had scarcely any time yet, to grow.
Her thoughts rushed over the items that she'd packed already. Had she missed anything? Food, blankets; her eyes went to Sams, again, to the hoe in his hand, and then to the other; outstretched, waiting. For a moment, she hesitated. The doubt threatened to rise in her belly again, helplessness beat against the outside walls of her mind, struggling to get in.
But when it came to inner battles, Alyss was a mighty warrior. The feeble, stereotypical emotions that her body tried to force her into feeling would be no help to them. Nor would she let them be their downfall.
Taking a breath, she reached out for Sams' calloused hand, grasping it tight, feeling the warmth of his palm seep into hers. Looking up into his smiling face, she felt her doubts melt away. He was so strong, in ways she could never be. Slinging the pack over her free arm, she smiled back at him; hers small and grim to his beaming, loving grin, but a smile nonetheless.
"I'm ready."
He tightened his grip on hers carefully, interlacing their fingers. There was an unspoken promise running through his mind; her hand would never leave his, not ever. It was his only thought as they stepped out the door.
The sunlight glinted red and orange upon the simple houses, lighting the path with autumn hues that gave the illusion of tranquillity. People still bustled about the town - farmers trekking home from work, husbands leaving to the local tavern, women rallying children for bed. With each villager they passed, he gave a cheery smile and nodded his head in salutation. They replied with curious glances, his hoe and wife at hand an unusual sight together. A few tried to speak but he waved them away, “Not today, friend. We’re busy this eve.”
His knees were trembling but – thankfully - it was not visible in the dimming day.
As the outskirts grew near, he found himself slowing. Eventually, he came to a stop… silent… unable to find the words he wished to say…
…before they threw everything away.
Alyss felt her lovers' grip tighten around her hand, and knew it was time. Heaving the rucksack she'd packed over one shoulder, she kept time with Sams as he left the house, her expression blank when it fell on the people of the village. Giving nothing, and expecting nothing in return.
She clutched her fingers into a tight ball amongst the coarse, woven fabric of the dress she'd thrown on as she packed. The skirt had once been long and flowing, a lovely gown; but after years of rips and hasty repair jobs, it had lost its elegance, and a great deal of its length.
As Sams came to a halt, Alyss' heart began racing.
They had passed through the scraggly plots that bordered the village, most of them abandoned now, for the day. Just ahead; there it was. That line of trees, ominous in the twilight, the shadows between them seeming to stretch out toward the couple; a few more steps, and Alyss would be further than she'd ever been from home.
"I love you."
The woman turned to look Sams' in the face as she said it, her eyes pushing the sincerity of the words. She opened her mouth as if to say something further, but closed it again a moment later, unable to find any appropriate words. Still holding tight to Sams' hand, she pushed herself forward, her leg muscles seeming to scream in protest at the order to move. And suddenly, she was running, clinging to Sams' hand like it was the only thing holding her to the earth, and laughing; wildly, almost hysterically as she raced across the last few yards of open ground, into the trees.
Half of her was terrified, the other half; exhilarated. Even if it only lasted a few moments, right now, they were free.
"I love you."
He didn’t need to repeat her words; she knew how he felt. With her courage, they began to move forward. Grass whipped around their ankles, giving way to each stroke of limb. Daisies, wilting in the wake of fall, were crushed mercilessly beneath their hurried steps. A few seconds and they were thrown into the dappled shadows of the forest, trees that made maze of their path and forced them closer together. The soil was soft, snatching their heels and tiring them quickly, but determination had their hearts beating for survival.
The blackbirds stirred, revealed their plight, scattering into the darkening heavens.
And in the distance, the demon roared.
The laugh died out of Alyss' throat in an instant at the far off snarl; she could feel its fury like a cold blade in the base of her spine. Her grip on Sams' hand tightened, her knuckles whitening with the pressure.
Now they were amongst the trees their progress slowed. Creeping tendrils snatched at Alyss' ankles as she hurried along, not completely sure of the way and not really caring, as long as they were moving in the opposite direction from that roar.
Unwelcome images began to surface inside her head; half-formed imaginings of what their pursuer might look like. She had never seen the demon; its power was so great it could leave the mark without ever exposing itself. She had never wanted to imagine what it looked like before. In her mind she could almost see it now; streaking through the trees, drawing ever closer...
But it was too late now, for fear, or regret. Her eyebrows furrowed, her face hardened into the same determined expression she had worn almost constantly since the discovery of the mark.. since a long time before that. She pushed the fear away into that place inside herself that had once seemed bottomless. Only today had she realized how much was stored away there, how many feelings had been ignored, but never really faded.
She could deal with this later. When they were safe; all three of them.
For a few moments after the roar resided, there was an eerie silence to the forest. The animals froze in place, too terrified to breathe for fear of drawing its attention. Even the plants seemed to still despite the gentle breeze, their leaves no longer dancing through the air in autumn’s play. If not for the battle of the terrain, the tire of his lungs, he would never have dared to exhale.
The waterfall was not far away; they were halfway there already. He was almost brave enough to cling to desperate hope – a few more minutes, Lord, just give us that – praying that it would be enough to protect his wife and child. Cruelty snatched away his wish within a moment's notice. The thudding started upon the ground. At first, the sounds were distant, accompanied only by the hasty flight of birds, a mile to their left. The creatures of the earth were moving now, fleeing, as fast as tiny legs would carry them. Nervous whimpers escaped their bestial lips; even they knew that death was coming.
Its footsteps pounding on the soil, growing ever closer.
Half a minute, he realised.
Half a minute, and it would be upon them.
A cry escaped Alys' throat as a rabbit streaked past her ankles, and the whole world slowed for a moment as she teetered, her free arm pinwheeling, struggling to maintain her balance. Her outstretched hand caught hold of a branch, and she managed to steady herself, rushing on as the pounding of the beasts' heavy steps carried to their ears.
She threw a glance at Sams; his expression was strained. She thought she could see the hope, dying in his eyes as the steps grew louder, closer. Then she heard it; the creak of snapping branches, thrown aside from the demons' path, the squeal of some small creature as a heavy foot ended it's frantic dash for escape. She pushed herself forward, faster, not daring to look back even when she felt the hot rush of breath, the angry snarl behind her...
Searing, burning agony coursed through her body as claws raked across her back, splitting her skin like a plough through soft soil. Her hand was ripped from Sams by the blow, throwing her forward, her knees striking heavy on the ground. Far behind them, in the village, a child awoke at the sound of her scream, though it's cries did not carry far enough for the couple to hear. Hot tears turning the world before her into a hazy blur, she staggered to her feet, reaching blindly for Sams, running, crying... In her belly, she swore she felt a stir, though the pain was great enough to cause delusion.
"Sams," she choked, still running blindly between trees. Where was he? The tatters of her dress clung to her ruined back, her legs sticky and sickly warm with the blood that ran from her wounds. She stumbled again, her head spinning with panic and blood loss; and ahead, the sound of heaven; water rushing over rocks. Salvation.
If only she could reach it.
The sound of his screaming wife was like torture to the man. His ears’ flesh wished to burn so that the world might grow quiet, so that he might avoid the agony that wracked his lover’s body. If he could have taken her pain, it would be a decision without needed thought. He would have embraced the shredded skin with open arms if it relieved her only slightly.
“Sams…”
“Go! Just keep moving!” he ordered it of her because his heart knew only frustration at that point. Nerves kicked in an aggression he was used to hiding behind a smile. Although she was a few paces in front, he managed to cover the distance. He couldn’t grab her hand - it flailed too wildly – but at least he could protect her. Wedding vows flashed through his mind; words that fell insignificant to the commitment his heart had silently made. If he failed her now – if she lost breath – he couldn’t comprehend a future in such darkness.
When the monster reared to strike again, he pushed them from its path. Claws clipped at his shoulder, drawing blood in an air-born arc. He grunted from the impact, almost stumbling over his feet, but continued onwards.
A dozen more heart-pounding footsteps.
Together, they broke through the trees, the waterfall before them.
Behind, the demon raised itself for one last attack.
Her feet hit hard stone, the trees fell away around them, and there it was. She would be able to reach out and touch the water in just a few moments. Just a little further, and she could stop trying to ignore the pain that wracked her body. A quick glance to her right confirmed that Sams was beside her. She would've tried a smile, if the movement hadn't made her wince. Just keep going.
With a deep breath, she hurried forward, fixing her eyes on the tower of water that would be their saviour. It fell into a shallow pool, edged with large rocks, flowing away to their right in a wide arch. She was so close now!
She'd nearly reached the water's edge when it hit her.
The force of the demons' body striking hers lifted Alys from her feet, knocking the air from her lungs. She managed a wide-eyed, startled look at her husband before her body crashed down amongst the rocks. She tumbled, falling hard against one, two; her limbs jarring against the stone; to flop, like a ragdoll, into the water. She stared upward, dimly aware of a sharp, horrible sensation somewhere in her chest; it was growing increasingly difficult to breath, and her vision darkened at the edges.
Alys opened her mouth to say her lovers' name, but her starved lungs proved incapable of drawing enough air to speak. She tried to raise her head, to see Sams; Please, let him be safe; and found she couldn't do that either. One hand clutched her chest, as though it could force her lungs to accept air. The other cradled her stomach, and the child inside that would never be born. The water around her was stained with clouds of pink.
At the edge of the pool, she heard the demons' roar of frustration. Her body screamed for breath; the world was fading.
She was swept away before his gaze, buffeted by the beast, and there was nothing he could do to stop the sight unfolding. Her body disappeared from his vision, the rocky terrain swallowing it. His feet seemed to find renewed energy, but the world passed by too slowly for his liking. He wanted to be with her in an instant, not a few seconds.
With frantic vigour, he leapt upon a small boulder, his feet threatening to slip beneath. His body fell backwards, but he caught himself with a hand, slicing his palm in the process. Refusing to pause – what was pain right now but nought? - he slid off into the shallow pool below. Splash of water; his ankles chilled.
Why could he not hear her screaming? She had cried out before, and he had hated it…but it had been better than the present silence.
The angered demon roared, but like hell did he care.
With frantic eyes, he caught sight of a foot, seemingly limp. Her body was beside him before he had chanced to think. Both their lips parted, wordless; one choked by pain, the other fear. He didn’t want to see the blood, didn’t want to consider the implications on their unborn child.
Instinctively, he ducked as the demon tried to slash between the rocks, catching his back and tearing the flesh with shallow grooves. He barely felt it in his concern for Alyss, her breath seeming non-existent.
With haste and with care, he lifted her into his arms, holding back tears that threatened to mar his sight.
The waterfall was a few steps away…
…just a few steps.
“God, please hang on, Alyss.”
Dimly, she was aware of being lifted from the ground. Strong arms encircled her, and she tried to force her dazed eyes to focus. His voice reached her ears as though from underwater, or a long distance away, but it was enough.
Alys drew a ragged breath, the arm that clutched her chest brushing something solid. If she could have turned her head to look, she might have been reassured by the shard of black rock that penetrated her side. At least it wasn't a rib, piercing her lung as her frantic mind had fleetingly feared, lying there in the water. But her situation was still dire. She had lost so much blood, for a woman so slight, and her body ached all over, bruises already forming where she'd clattered down among the rocks. And the baby... God, don't think about the baby...
Her body shifted in Sams' arms as he stepped over the uneven surface and she winced, her wounded back rubbing against his arms. A chill was creeping over her wet scalp, but each fractured breath she managed to draw in was heavenly. Still, it couldn't be long now. The demon would be on them in a moment, and then it would be over. There was no way they could survive another attack; not her, at least. Perhaps Sams' would live; perhaps he would get away.
But even while she hoped it, she knew he would not leave her. He would die beside her, and all of this would be for naught.
The last trickle of hope was just leaving her, when the spray hit her face, cool water rushing between her still-parted lips, refreshing. Salvation. With the momentary surge of elated energy, she turned her head to look up at her husband, and managed something close to a smile.
She still couldn't be sure they wouldn't die tonight.
But if they did, they would die free.
His movements felt sluggish. Even though he knew he was advancing fast – far faster than he should have been, adrenaline pumping through his form - it did not feel quick enough to satisfy his nerves. Where was the demon? It could be close behind, just mere seconds away from slaughtering them. His body was tense with apprehension, every second feeling like a blessing that he hadn’t expected. Would they make it out alive? No, that wasn’t something he could think about, not in those few moments. There were far greater concerns. Oh Alyss… my dear love… What had she ever done to deserve such pain? Sure, the woman could be cold to others and had kept mostly to herself, but her heart was kind when tested. She would have made a good mother; she really would have. He tried not to cry at the thought that such opportunity may have been stolen from them.
Feet felt unstable against the ground; loose soil or wet stone, neither provided a grip for his tired soles.
…just a few steps, he thought again, his internal tone growing more desperate with every passing second.
It was only when the water cascaded over him, drenching him from head-to-toe, that dread was washed away. The force of the falls was enough to make him flinch, his aching body gritting through its pressure, but it brought a welcome sense of relief. He hoped that his wife was still awake enough to share the feeling; her body felt so cold in his hands that it scared him. Even her smile was weak. He wondered how much pain she was suffering through, how she could put on such a brave face when his world was falling apart.
He lay her on the ground, assured that they were safe past the water’s veil. The demon could thrash and scream upon the other side, but the sounds fell on ears that didn’t care. He was more concerned with tending for his wife. His shirt was off in an instant, gently wrapping itself around her body, strategically placed to reduce blood flow to her wound. It was shoddy work, but it was something; he infused the action with futile prayer that he hoped would help.
“I’m so sorry…” he murmured, brushing the hair out her face as he cared for her, “I should never have let us leave the village.”
“I can’t-…” His voice cracked with sadness, and he changed what he was going to say, “Please don’t leave me, Alyss.”
Alys let her head droop backward as the water washed over her, Sams' arms tight around her as they passed through the wall of water that was their savior. She watched, silent, as her beloved did his best to tend her wound. The pain had dulled, her body numbed by the cold water and the almost unbelievable knowledge that they were alive, and the small relief allowed her the energy to take in the words he choked out to her.
"No..." she replied, the frailty of her voice a surprise even to herself. It was difficult to hear the words, over the rush of water and the demons' screeches of rage beyond.
"We did it, didn't we?" she managed, taking her husbands' hand in her own with the lightest of squeezes, "We're out."
Only now it occurred to Alys that she had no idea where 'out' was; she had been born in the village, never left its boundaries, never knew anybody who had.
"We should... keep going." The effort it took to speak was wearing on her - the injured woman drew in a long, laboured breath, her grip on Sams' hand tightening, "maybe there's someone... help." It didn't seem all that likely, but they could try.
"We did it, didn't we? We're out."
His head hung low, his eyes squeezed shut to dam the flow of tears so ready waiting. It was almost painful to keep his breaths in check; they wanted to run free with pants and wheezes, flooded by pain and sorrow - he held them back, steady, calm. His arms were rigid; when he tried to relax the muscles, provide a softer bed in which his wife could lay, he found they trembled violently instead. Tempting as it was to apologise, he guessed she wouldn’t appreciate it.
Damn it all. Why couldn’t he have been stronger?
Why wasn’t he the one to have been hurt?
And…why was he being so weak now?
He felt the squeeze of her hand, the weakened attempt to throw him from his woes.
"We should... keep going."
“Of course, my love,” he murmured. The autumn sun glinted one last time, fracturing through the water’s flow, illuminating the strained smile on his face, before the light died into the chill of night. It was his role after all, to always keep cheerful in the bleakest of places. He had failed her those last moments, but no more. Picking her up was an effort, but not one that he showed. She might think I’m trying to call her fat, he mused but thoughts returned swiftly to internal sombreness.
Nevertheless, the grin did not fade. He lifted her gently.
"Maybe there's someone... help."
“Maybe,” he replied softly, voice resolutely kept carefree, “and if not, I’ll keep walking ‘til I find them.”
Each step was laboured with her leaden body in his grip, but he did not stop to complain. The sound of the water grew softer, the path darker. Soon, the only noise was his airy humming to the silence. It was a melody they both knew; he had tried to play it to her upon a lute, a summer-sweet love song that needed no words. True, his attempts had been poor…
Yet if nothing else, he hoped the memories brought her comfort and, if she was to settle to eternal sleep, he prayed she would find in it a fondness to soothe her final hours.
~ The End ~
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