Ocular to the Dying Sun

A Hand that Held; part 3

Picking a stick nearby, checking if it was good as a weapon or distraction, she held on to this like a pole ready on hand for an incoming attack even if she had no chance of using it or winning against anyone. Overhead is the darkness looming and the occasional sounds of rustle and Dire-eater screech, though only a distance, it ticks a nervousness in her when the rumble of their movements could be felt and heard.

Down behind the rock hiding place, several uprooted trees and a clearing could be seen where the destruction of the fighting small Dire-eaters seemed to have also chunked out a part of the land. Roaming to see where the girl lay felt like hours, but it only lasted for seconds, and the idea of taking her time to see if the girl was still alive is a dread she was delaying.

She did find the girl, all bloodied and partially trapped, though the girl could move from where she is, her injury was what kept her from moving. The bone on her shoulder must have already dislocated before everything started and it didn’t help that the tree made a rag doll of her body, splaying her fragile limbs in disarray. The blood that seeped from her shoulder was dark on her pale skin.

The girl still breathed but Elder Lymantera could see she was having difficulty in doing so as if she was in her last strands. She knelt and softly spoke to the girl who whimpered as her shaking arms tried prying her from the ground. Supporting her head, she gently tried putting her hand under her waist and legs but realized how at some point she couldn’t because even if her skin was cold from sweat and feeble, there was a sense that the girl’s body was impossibly broken.

Inhaling the pain she felt rush from her mental capacity chipping, again, after her broken heart from the young boy, she let herself kneel beside her and touched the girl’s forehead. Closing Elder Lymantera’s eyes, as she does at times whenever they do in festival ceremonies regarding their thanksgiving during and before Ocular, she prays that Slitark guides her weak body.

There was a slight cold air surrounding them and the sight of peace welcomed the girls hurried ragged breathing slow down into a calm heaving. Difficult as the young girl may be at the current, Elder Lymantera whispered a silent prayer as the girl who has bloodshot eyes edged with tears now stayed steady, looking at her.

“Wait for me,” she said to her and, standing to look and see where she could pry her body out of the burden of clumped trees, the world suddenly shook.

Shaking, unsteady ground pushed her balance backward. Her bum hit the ground at an awkward angle just as she was reaching for a thick stick nearby. A gust of wind pushed her further away from the place she stood, splinters of wood and blood spewing in the air. The wet splatter did not stain her face or clothes, but she knew that the angle she faced that not seeing the source would be a matter of time, though not given because she was pushed backward by a large trunk that a group of small Dire-eaters had pushed to her direction.

They came from the sky as it seems, perhaps thrown or directly above, once, but they’re now badly injured and struggling. The wriggling bodies ruined more land around her and Elder Lymantera only closed her eyes at the sheer madness happening. Solid bodies slammed on the ground by the sound and feel of everything around her but she did not budge her closed eyes and stunned body. She’d felt her body run cold when she opened them and a whole head of a small Dire-eater stared at her.

The eyes looked glossy and alive, light from the sky illuminated the scales but the glow was different when it hit the glass of the eyes. Dreadfully dark red and glum, the light seemed to dance on its surface but it’s the blood coming from the edges of its eyes that spilled over its surface. Coating the eyes and its face, the head moved as the motionless Elder Lymantera who is slowly accepting her fate, watched in a blank-minded state of her impending death.

“Ah,” said a tiny voice behind her.

The boy stood with his hands tightly wrapped around a bundle he was having a hard time holding onto. His eyes were transfixed at the sight of a Dire-eater staring at Elder Lymantera, and the fascination prompted him to move forward. His steps were small but fast, making him wobble over between the head of the monster and the old woman.

Her nerves awaken at his presence, the cold that she felt still her body boil her muscles that she stood without thinking of pain or care, reaching out to the boy just so she could halt him. Faulty as her actions would be, she stopped when the creature in front waved its head in shock at her actions, this alone stops the boy. Injuring his arm that he had unconsciously reached out to touch the stilled beak but had to use as a shield for the babe in his arms.

The grip he had on the bundle loosened making him tumble backward so he could prevent letting the baby fall on the ground, in doing so, he gives the creature a chance to move an inch forward over them. Elder Lymantera felt the world stop in front of her eyes, hopelessness sinking its teeth deeper from its bite into a full-on chunk out of her soul’s meat. Yet she shudders to install when she felt her body feel a strong gust of magic emit from where the hand of the boy held up.

Light as warm as the sun in the sky blows outward from them, letting the Dire-eater in front cry in shock and wave its head, from pain and confusion. Prompting the boy to push his body upward, given only minutes to move, away. He crawled in reverse, back to where he thought Elder Lymantera stood. She sees this and gives her best motion to reach out to the boy, only to meet her arms with the bundle of the babe.

No hesitation, she clutches the babe and finds herself watching the creature fall its head over the boy. The motion lets her balance sway and fall far back, again, on the ground as it welcomed her without a word of comfort for the pain it causes. Dipped in a haze of worry and fear, she stood and ran far away the best her injured leg could carry her.

Now the bundle in her arms, clutched tight, the child has woken up and started crying at her grip that couldn’t be controlled or tender to the touch. The ringing wails of the young Saturni broke her heart, but what prompted the waterfall of salty sadness from her eyes came from the young boy, who in his last moment, only thought of others even if he wasn’t aware he was doing so.

There was a faint glimmer of hope that still stayed in his wide-eyed fear-stricken face but all she could feel was the memory of dread and darkness of the death she has witnessed. Elder Lymantera did not bother wiping her face as she reached a part of the forest where the trees are dark, tall, and overbearing. Their overgrowth of thick roots intertwines with rocks that have eroded in time.

She automatically stopped, staring through the blur of her tears, and saw that she has nowhere to go but there, at the base of the thick roots. Several branches of the tall tree could not hide the view of the surrounding mountain it preludes, through its thick pine leaves and the thin fog growth, she guessed that they were near the base of the mountain. As to which direction or part of the surrounding mountains, she could not guess where only the hope that they were safe away from harm.

Jumbled memories of havoc and peace swirled in her drought-ridden head, almost ablaze from the headache she was now desperately enduring and failing to feel any form of resolution. The babe in her arms still sobbed and wailed, yearning for its mother whom she forcibly pulled away from. Even if her actions were what saved the child, yet, had the original purpose of disposing of an innocent, she could not deny her growing guilt bearing heavier the longer she stayed in this forest.

Her life has always been for her life to hunt for purpose and stay true to that purpose, nothing noble and nothing malicious. If before she could easily swallow her cowardice from doing deeds for the beliefs she’s always grown with, now, she couldn’t face Slitark of what she has done and thought of doing. Seeing the babe, and her other children in her was not something she expected to strongly feel, but too late as it is, she will have to keep moving.

There is hope if only for the moment, but first, she must rest. Slumping down on the ground with the crying child in her arms amidst the dim world fading into further darkness. Not by the impending threat of near-death, but rather the point of being tired and her body slowly giving up. If in the next moment she wakes up to see the light of Slitark blessing her with the warmth she deserved, she will dedicate her life to this babe without fault and only for her sake.

Positioning herself to lean against a nearby thick root, she noticed dark blood on her right hand that now smeared the blanket that wrapped the babe. As she cradled and shushed her the best her old arms could do, the memories of the young boy haunted her mind.

Dry of tears, dusty from struggle, and determined with a hint of stubbornness. Meeting a soul stronger than her in a body so small brings her shame weight by the blanket of regret and guilt. If in this life he did not survive, perhaps he would grow to be a strong boy able to carry the weight of life to safety while retaining wonder in front of death’s face. This will be a memory she will forever keep in her, holding a candle more for hope than she thought she would not have in slumber.

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