Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 64
64
"How's it lookin out there?" Uncle Jon asked.
"Um... not that good, to be honest." Jonah pulled back the curtains a bit, showing them all exactly what he meant by 'not that good'.
The last shreds of daylight had bled away, and all anyone could see were the hundreds of tiny white snowflakes smacking into the window pane, which was quickly frosting over at the edges. Everything else was just black.
"Ah, frick," Uncle Jon muttered and scratched his chin, but after a minute of intense pondering, all he could do was bang his fist against the table and repeat himself. "Ah, frick!"
Valery didn't think that cussing at a storm would do any good, but she understood her uncle's frustration perfectly well. Daddy was supposed to be under the town healer's care right now, not sleeping in a stiff, hard-backed kitchen chair.
"Here you go, Daddy," she whispered, carefully unfolding a dusty, moth-eaten blanket she had scrounged from one of the upstairs drawers. It was an unnecessarily gaudy thing, with no colour repeated twice in the whole mishmash pattern of squares and rectangles (probably knitted by Cousin Jonah himself during one of the off-seasons), but it was thick and fluffy and she was sure it would make Daddy nice and warm in no time. She gently draped it over his lap and pulled it up to his chin, being very careful not to press down on any of the bandages Uncle Jon had so diligently wrapped around his chest.
"I love you, Daddy." She gave him a peck on the cheek and stood back, wishing she could do more.
"How's he doing, Vee?" Tim asked.
"He's okay, just sleeping."
"Damn son of a bitch storm," he muttered. "Why'd it have to come down now?"
"I'm just thankful we made it here when we did. If we were just half a day slower, we'd still be out in the woods right now."
"We'd be _dead_right now," Luke added, and Tim swallowed nervously.
Uncle Jon put his elbows up on the table, interlocked his fingers and lowered his forehead to rest against his thumbs. Underneath the table his knee went up and down at a restless pace.
Valery folded her hands and thought about everything Uncle Jon had told them just as the snow began to fall, the story about the Wolves who had fled from their people and were now living together at the top of a small hill on the outskirts of town. A lot of it was just hearsay and gossip, a whole bunch of he-said-she-said, but in many ways it was one of the most fascinating stories Valery had ever heard. Even Tim, who ordinarily couldn't go two minutes into any story without asking a hundred questions, had sat through the whole thing without ever making so much as a peep, and the reason for that, Valery thought, was because some of it had matched up with what Banno had told them. Not all of it, though, but that didn't really surprise anyone. Banno was a creature built around deception. He was just one great big ball of lies. She understood that now.
Valery unconsciously reached up and touched her neck, running her fingers through the fur until she found the four hard scabs where the tips of his fangs had sunk into her flesh.
And that thing had had the gall to call her daddy a 'fake'...
The thought of Banno's horrid smile, with all those burns across his face, sent a violent shiver through Valery's body. She rubbed her shoulders and pushed the memory away. That was not the important thing to think about right now. "What are we going to do, Uncle?" she asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb her daddy. He must be so tired.
Uncle Jon leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers against the table. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, he sighed and said: "Hell, I don't know, cupcake. I did the best I could, but it's basically just a dash o' brandy and some cloth holdin him together right now. Perfectly fine if you smash yer thumb with a hammer, but... eeergh... I just don't know. I think he should be okay for now, but I really don't want to take any chances. Problem is, I'm too afraid to move him."
"Maybe, instead of taking him to Bethany, we could bring Bethany to him?" Jonah suggested from his post by the window.
"That's startin to look like the only option," Uncle Jon said. "Weather report, sonny?"
"It's, um..." He peeked through the curtains. "A bit worse now, unfortunately."
"Then it's only gonna get worse the longer we sit here jawin'." "He got up from the table with a groan. "We'd better get goin' right now, or I betcha we won't make it halfway 'fore we get bogged down up to our belt buckles, then we'll be the ones need rescuein'."
"What should we do?" Tim asked, looking to his siblings.
"You lot man the fort and look after yer daddy. It's warm here, ya got wood for the fire, ya got food and water, ya got some medicine and brandy fer the infection, if he needs it. But I don't think you need to worry too much. Your daddy is one tough son of a bitch. I bet Beth'll take one look at him, pronounce him fit as a fiddle, and then slap my ears off m'face for draggin her all the way out here in the middle of the night. You just wait an' see."
"Um... Father?" Jonah was peeking through the curtains and it looked like he had just been struck by lightning. His ears and tail were sticking straight up and his fur was all frizzled. His hand was shaking so badly that the curtain rings were rattling out a chaotic melody against the bar. "I don't think it's going to be that simple."
"What is it, boy?"
"I, um... I think you'd better come take a look at this."
"Oh fer- Did the wind tear the mill's blades again? I told you to take the sails off!"
"No, it's not - I mean, I already did that - What I mean is - Daaargh!" Jonah ripped the curtains back, revealing a small flicker of orange flame blazing brightly against the darkness of the mountain, a sight that effected everyone differently.
Jon gasped and clutched at his heart, wheezing: "Ah crud... Ahhhhh crud, okay..."
Tim looked to every other face in the room, his eyes wide.
Luke stared at the window and the spot of light beyond, but unlike his brother, he didn't seem scared or confused. He looked angry.
And Valery. She folded her hands in front of her chest, shaking badly, but not making a sound. She knew exactly what that small flicker of orange light meant, and it scared her beyond belief. Hundreds of Bannos, perhaps even thousands of them, pouring through the mountain and into the valley.
Coming for them.
Uncle Jon rushed to and fro, opening drawers and cupboards seemingly at random, pulling out all kinds of equipment: a knife, a tinder box, an empty quiver, a mismatched pair of gloves. "Come on, Jonah! Hurry up!"
"I already have all my stuff."
"No backtalk, ya idjit! Oh gods oh gods oh gods, um, okay, what am I missing? Oh dammit all! Let's just go!"
Valery was so stunned, they nearly made it to the door before she found her voice again. "W-Wait!" she stammered, feeling like the whole world was crumbling to pieces all around her.
Uncle Jon stopped with his hand on the door handle, looking back with an expression she didn't like at all; part worry, part fake smile, all fear. "Yes, cupcake?"
"Where are you going?" Valery was stuck between the desire to talk as quietly as possible for her father's sake, and the overwhelming urge to scream at the top of her lungs. As a result, her voice came out in a wild fluctuating whisper that bordered on quiet hysteria.
"We-" He glanced at Jonah. "Sweety, we need to go to the pass. Lots of Foxes are gonna need us."
"But- But what about Daddy?"
"Think for a sec, darlin. If that torch is lit, it means Beth is gonna be headin' straight for that mountain. I know the timing is terrible, but we..."
Valery barely heard a single word of what her uncle said after that. She was stuck, frozen in mind and body as all the scraps of information came floating together.
Her daddy was hurt, probably far worse than Uncle Jon was letting on. The only way for them to save him was to fetch the town healer, but the town healer was on her way to the mountain pass south of here, which meant that Uncle Jon and Cousin Jonah would have to go there, too. But the pass was where all the Wolves were coming from, all the Bannos, a great black sea of them in her imagination, roiling and bubbling between the towering walls of stone like ichor.
And what about the real Banno? He was still out there somewhere, too. Trudging through the snow, sniffing for them in the dark.
She wanted to save her daddy with all her heart, but she didn't want her uncle and cousin to die at the hands of an army of monsters.
It won't be like that, it will all work out fine, she desperately tried to convince herself. The wall will hold, and all those Wolves will just turn around and go back home, then Uncle Jon and Cousin Jonah will come back, all smiles, and they'll have the healer with them, and it will all be just as Uncle Jon said, the healer will slap him right across the ears for wasting her time, and everyone will be happy. Everything... everything will be just fine.
If only...
If only she could believe that...
"Oh, Valery, sweety, no, please, don't do that now!" Uncle Jon said, hesitating with his hand on the door. "We have to - Oh, fer..."
Valery reached up and wiped her face, surprised by the warm wetness there. Was she crying?
Uncle Jon put his fingers against his brow and shook his head, as if he were suffering from the world's worst hangover. "We really don't have time for this right now."
As she often did during times of crises, Valery looked to her brothers, but it took only a moment for her to realise they wouldn't be of any help.
Tim was in the same boat as her, suffering from a mental full stop. He didn't know how to feel or react, so he was waiting for some kind of input to latch onto, something concrete to base his feelings on. Nine times out of ten that base was his big brother, but Luke... he was staring at that pinprick of orange light in the window, flickering from far beyond the driving snow like a single, flaming eye. His face had changed ever since Jonah flung the curtains wide, was _still_changing, as a matter of fact. His brow was furrowing and the corners of his mouth were turning down, slowly transforming his expression into one of absolute loathing. It was like watching a flower slowly being scorched by the sun, withering into a dry, cracked husk. It frightened her. Luke had always been the grumpy one of the family, but this was different. So much anger. So much frustration. And what scared her even more was that she understood it. After fighting so hard to do what Daddy had asked of him, after doing all he could to keep his little brother and sister safe, was this really what it all came down to? Fighting and struggling and clawing for every breath of life in order to escape a single monster, only to be delivered into the hands of a thousand more?
It wasn't fair.
Her eyes drifted over to her daddy, sleeping like a rock at the kitchen table, his head slightly askew and his mouth hanging open. The corner of Mommy's picture stuck out just beyond the edge of the blanket. There was a spot of dried blood on it, turning it an earthy brown.
She went to him and gently put her hand on his forehead, dismayed by the heat she could feel baking off of him. There was an infection raging inside his body, and she feared a splash of brandy wouldn't be enough to keep it down. She could feel the tears rushing up inside of her, burning her eyes and throat, trying to get out. She wanted to be brave for her daddy, but she knew he didn't always like that. In fact, he hated it. He was so proud of her, always so proud, but every time she needed to be brave he viewed it as a failure on his part. He believed that, if he were to do a perfect job, she would never have to be in any situations that required her to be brave at all. Only bad situations did that. Dangerous situations. As a father, it was his duty to keep his precious little daughter safe. If he could have his way, she would never have to be brave a single day in her life. She would never have needed to learn what true fear really was.
But she _did_know what true fear was. True fear was a soulless eye. True fear was a set of fangs and a wave of hot breath against your throat. True fear was a fireplace poker and the smell of blood. True fear was the belief that your daddy had gone up to heaven and that you would never see him again. True fear was that twisting, ripping feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach, like all your insides had been torn out, the feeling that life would never be the same again, that another piece of your heart had disappeared, that you were just a little bit more empty now, and you would remain that way forever.
True fear was seeing your father die right before your very eyes.
The dam broke and all her pent up tears came rushing out of her in one gut-wrenching sob. She turned back to her uncle and cousin, trying her best to keep her tears on the inside, but failing completely. "Uncle Jon? Cousin Jonah?" Her tears blurred them into fuzzy, amorphous shapes and she had to wipe her hands across her face repeatedly just to make them out. "Is it o-okay f-for me to ask something selfish?"
Uncle Jon and Jonah exchanged a puzzled glance. "Of course, darlin. What is it?"
"Pl-Please..." She folded her hands and bowed her head. "Please save my daddy!"
Uncle Jon cocked his head to the side. "Now why in the hell would you think that's a selfish thing to ask?"
"B-Because..." She couldn't bring herself to say it, but she knew she had to. "Because..."
"Because she thinks you'll die," Luke finished for her.
Silence descended upon the room like an evil fog. Even the normally merry crackle of the fireplace seemed dampened and hollow.
"What?" Uncle Jon's head was still cocked, but not in the quizzical way of before. Now he just looked scared. "No, I don't think you understand. See, there's this great ruddy wall everybody's been buildin', and -"
"And you really might die, Uncle." He was still staring out the window at that blazing signal fire, his hands curled into fists and his eyes narrowed down to slits. "You and Jonah and everyone else. You think a wall can stop them, and maybe you're right. Maybe, if you shoot enough arrows, it'll be enough to drive them back. But if the wall fails, if they knock it down or climb over? That's it. That's the end. I went up against one of them with an axe, so I know. I know what it feels like to have one of those things advance on you, staring you down like a lump of raw meat, ready to tear you apart with teeth and claws. I know what it feels like to fight your hardest, and then to realise that all your 'fighting' amounted to absolutely nothing, that you might as well be a mosquito buzzing around its head. I know what it feels like to look death in the eye, and I know what it feels like when death looks back. And so does Valery."
Uncle Jon looked like he had just swallowed a bowl of rancid porridge and was mere moments from sicking it all up. He stared at the doorknob in his hand as if it might jump up and bite him.
Jonah was even worse. He was shivering all over and staring off at the window, perhaps thinking about all the things Daddy had told them before he fell asleep, about the horrors a single Wolf could pull off all by itself.
It wasn't right for them to have to go through this. No one should have to go through this. But if they didn't, then... what would happen to her daddy?
None of this was right. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair! Hadn't they all been through enough!? Hadn't Daddy been through enough!?
Valery couldn't stand this. No matter what she wanted, no matter what she hoped for, no matter what she said or even just thought, all of it had a bad side. Wishing for her uncle and cousin to stay meant risking her daddy's life, but wishing for them to go to the pass risked their lives. And what if it didn't even matter? If the Wolves broke through the wall they were all as good as dead anyway, torn apart and eaten alive.
She was just one little girl, one little girl who couldn't do anything other than stand around and cry, a useless little girl who had almost gotten her father killed, a worthless, wretched...
She made to wipe her streaming face, but someone was already there, reaching out to her with his hand tucked into his sleeve. He wiped one side, then the other. Valery raised her head and it was Jonah, down on one knee. "Hey, Val," he said, smiling uncertainly. "You okay?"
She started to nod her head, but halfway through it somehow turned into a shake. She didn't trust herself to speak without breaking into childish sobs again, so she just kept on doing it, slowly shaking her head, fighting the sting in her eyes, nose and throat.
Jonah put his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look straight ahead. "Val, you're thinking too much about everything that could go wrong," he said, looking her directly in the eye. "I can't say I blame you, after everything you've been through, but that's no way to live, little cuz."
"I just... I don't want anyone else to get hurt!"
"Of course you feel that way. I don't want anyone to get hurt, either. And neither does Father. Don't you, Father?"
Uncle Jon jumped a little, his hand still frozen on the doorknob. "Y-Yes, of course."
Jonah turned back to Valery. "And that's why you can't let yourself focus solely on everything that could go wrong. Why, I bet there probably won't even be any fighting. We'll be up on the wall, they'll be down in the pass, there'll be some arguing, some politicking, and then I'm sure everyone will come to a peaceful agreement. We'll be right back here with Bethany before you know it. An hour or two, tops."
Valery looked to the side. She just couldn't keep eye contact with him, knowing what she knew. No fighting? A peaceful agreement? Talk like that might have worked on her a month ago, or even a week, but not now. It was far too naïve, bordering on cruel.
"Look at me, Val."
Valery looked at him.
"You see me? Do I look afraid to you?" He gave her a huge, fake smile. "I'm the biggest scaredy-fox in the entire valley, everybody knows that. Heck, I couldn't even work up the nerve to talk to Ander for the longest time, and he's the biggest sweetheart the valley has ever seen,literally. Do you really think I'd face down an army of Wolves if I thought there was really going to be a battle?"
Valery took in his wide eyes, the nervous twitch above his nose, the too wide smile, and said: "No, Jonah, you don't look afraid. You look terrified."
He chuckled sadly, and now, realising he couldn't fool her, the last vestiges of his act began to crumble away. His smile faltered and his ears lay flat against his skull. He was shaking from head to toe like a trapped animal. "You're right, Val," he said, wetting his lips. "You're absolutely right. I am_terrified. On a horrid night like this, I would much rather make a spot of tea and yell at Father for trying to sneak brandy into the pot. I would much rather sit by the fire with a plate of muffins and rusks and a nice, boring book. I would much rather fold some stupid paper animals and go to bed early. I would much rather do anything other than go outside, in the snow. I don't want to get_wet, Valery, much less murdered. I'm not a fighter or a hunter or a trapper. The closest I've ever come to holding a weapon of any kind is the rusty old pitchfork out by the shed, and that thing's about as sharp as a corncob. But you know what?"
Jonah was still holding her by the cheeks, and she could feel his shaking going through his hands. There was panic dancing behind his eyes, barely restrained. She had never seen anyone as scared as this, and yet somehow he was holding himself together. He leaned in close, as if about to convey a great secret, and said: "I'm still going. It doesn't matter if I'm scared enough to wet my pants, it doesn't matter if I'd rather run upstairs and hide beneath the bedsheets till morning, because regardless of what I do, there will still be an army of Wolves at the pass and they will still need every available hand to man the wall, and your dad will still be sleeping here, slowly succumbing to his fever, and you three kids will still be waiting, worried sick, unable to get to sleep, and the same goes for every household in the valley right now. There are a lot of scared Foxes tonight, Valery. I'm not the only one. That's why I have to go, because not going would be just about the most selfish thing I can imagine, and that's where I draw the line. I may be scared, but I'm not selfish, and neither are you for wanting to save your daddy."
"But you could get hurt," Valery said, tears streaming down her face and across Jonah's fingers. "You could get killed..."
Jonah bit down on his lip, but his gaze did not falter. "You know, Val. When Uncle James was telling us about everything that had happened, I kept glancing your way, wondering just how in the name of all the gods you managed to get through all that and stay the same, sweet little girl you've always been. I guess it goes to show just how strong you really are, and how much your dad really cares about you."
"But you -"
"I understand why you're so worried, Val. We're your family, too, and you don't want us to get hurt. It's because you love us, and we love you, too. Don't we, Father?"
Uncle Jon nodded rapidly, despite his sickly appearance. "Absolutely."
"So why don't you dry your tears..." Jonah wiped his thumb across her cheeks, "and come give your terrified cousin and curmudgeonly old uncle a proper send-off, hmm?"
Valery burst into tears and threw herself into Jonah's arms, nearly knocking him on his tail. "Please be careful, Jonah!" she cried into his jacket, love and guilt and worry and hope and a hundred different emotions all swirling together inside of her. "Please, please be careful!"
"I promise," he said, holding her gently and giving her a little pat on the head.
Valery kissed his cheek, and when he stood up, she was a little embarrassed to see that she had cried a wet patch onto his jacket. That spot would be absolutely freezing when he stepped outside. But before she could say anything about it, her Uncle had dropped down to one knee, his arms open wide.
"Hey, how come Mr. Scaredypants over there's the only to get some lovin'? C'mere, ya little squirt!"
Valery have him a great big hug (unlike Jonah, who handled her like a porcelain figurine, Uncle Jon was fond of giving those really hard hugs that squeezed all the air out of your lungs). When she pulled away, he took her by the shoulders, his face suddenly set and grim. "Now you take real good care of your daddy while we're gone, ya hear?"
Valery nodded.
"And at least try to take it easy, okay? I can already see all them worry-lines in your face. How old are you again? Forty? Fifty?"
A smile flitted across Valery's face before she could stop herself.
"Ey! Now _that's_the cupcake I know an' love!" Uncle Jon ruffled her hair, beaming down at her in such a warm and friendly way that she could almost believe that everything really would turn out all right in the end, that maybe there really wasn't anything to worry about.
Uncle Jon and Jonah went on to say goodbye to her brothers as well, giving each of them a quick hug, a pat on the back, and an assurance that they would be back lickety split.
"Ya got everythin', sonny?" Uncle Jon asked as they made their way to the front door.
Jonah checked his pockets. "I think so."
"Then let's get goin'. At this rate we'll be the last ones to get there." He put his hand on the doorknob, and that's when Luke stepped forward.
"Uncle?"
"Yeap, m'boy?" He still sounded jolly, but Valery could tell he was anxious. It was in the way he was squeezing that doorknob, slowly turning it even as he waited for Luke to speak up.
Backlit by the fireplace, Luke's face had been transformed into a mask of half-shadow, with one grim eye staring out at them from beneath a furrowed brow. "You think you know Wolves," he said, "but those 'Wolves' you're so chummy with? They're not really Wolves at all, and that's why their people want them dead. It's why they want us dead. Anything that is not them does not deserve to live. That's the way they see the world. That's the way _Banno_sees the world. Although with him, I wouldn't be surprised if he took it one step further. I don't think he will ever be happy until he has killed every living thing. Until there's nothing left."
"Luke," Uncle Jon laughed nervously. "We've been through this. We have to go."
"I'm not trying to stop you, Uncle. I only want to aks one thing of you before you leave. Just one thing."
"And what's that?"
"You have to warn them about Banno, Uncle Jon. They don't know what danger they're in."
"Do you really think a single Wolf - a Wolf who's probably dead, I might add - is a greater threat than a thousand of them put together?"
Luke didn't even hesitate. "I do."
Uncle Jon stood there for what felt like a very long time, although in reality it was probably no more than a few seconds. He sighed, nodded, and opened the door to a flurry of snowflakes. "I'll be sure to tell them," he said. "Goodbye, kids. I know this is getting old by now, but I promise you, we'll be back 'fore you know it. Come on, Jonah."
They stepped outside into the dark and the cold. Jonah looked back over his shoulder, waved, and shut the door with a small click, cutting off the wind and leaving a smattering of snowflakes to melt between the floorboards.
Luke hurried over and slid the bolt into place while Tim sat at the table, looking straight ahead and not saying a word.
Valery went to their daddy and placed her hand on his forehead.
The fever was getting worse.
She sat down next to him, folded her hands in her lap, and began to wait.
If you enjoy my story, please help keep my face un-mauled by irritable ostriches by dropping me a donation.
Thank you! ^_^
Paypal:[email protected]
Donation Progress $159 / $300 (Unlock Sunday update)
How and Why: The Story behind "Ander" (Journal): https://www.sofurry.com/view/517234
Special thanks go out to the following furs for helping me keep this project afloat with their generous donations. I couldn't do it without your support.
- Mystery fur
- PyrePup
- KmlRock
- Faan
- Sunny-Fox
- Mystery fur #2
- Sky Star
- Claybrook
- 1_2Punch
- Cahal Silverpaw
- TheLoneDriftor
Thank you! You guys are the best! ^_^