Page 131 of Bloom
“Remember when I said you’ll grow into a good man like your Father? You’re going to go straight and keep walking no matter how tired you get. You’re not going to stop until you reach the village. Find a house and bang on the door. Shout until someone gets up. Ask for the Baron. Can you do that for your parents and me?”
“Y-yes.”
Jed squeezed his shoulders and turned him. “Go. Just walk straight. You’ll make it.”
“I’m scared…” Jaime imagined the woods full of bad men who’d kill him and find Jed.
“You’re Federico’s son and a Scaliger. Don’t let go of the sword.”
He gave Jaime a last pat on the back and nudged him forward. “Don’t stop.”
The grass rustled under Jaime’s feet as he started walking. He’d find help while Jed had a rest. Maybe he’d feel better after a bit and catch up.
He didn’t dare to stop, but he chanced a last look before properly entering the forest. The field was a dark blur, and he couldn’t see Jed or hear his rough breathing anymore.
“Jed?”
An owl hooted from the branches above.
Jaime walked because Jed said so. Going straight was hard in the dark with tree roots threatening to trip him, branches blocking the way, and bushes that were too thick to stomp through. He bumped into trunks and clutched the sword, still wrapped in Jed’s coat. His fingers felt a wet, sticky spot and something…like the fabric had been sliced. It was about the right size if a sword had been thrust into the spot.
He’d seen the bloody patch. But Jed was resting.
Crickets sang, unaware of the events of that night and uncaring of Jaime who struggled through while trying to keep straight. He couldn’t see shit, and his legs burned. Branches and twigs caught his clothes, and he stumbled more than once. He kept seeing Father’s face as he stared at Mother’s body.
More than once he heard rustling far off, and he thought one of the attacking men would come crashing through the undergrowth to stab him too. Who would get help then?
He couldn’t tell how many hours had passed when he tripped and scraped his knee.
Ahead, something quite close rustled, and he imagined an animal watching him, ready to pounce and eat him. Father said forest lions were typically in the north, but a lone man should be careful even in the south. Like the black forest panthers of Soleil, the big brown cats liked to stalk prey from trees. All it took was a single stray to go wandering.
They were supposed to be huge and nothing like the Castle cats Jaime knew. Could they see in total darkness? His breathing came in ragged gasps as he stared at the nothing ahead while his knee stung. He couldn’t take off the cloth. He didn’t know how to use a sword, and it was too big for him to try swinging it.
“Who’s there?” demanded a rough voice.
Jaime made a strange noise. He wasn’t at the village yet, and if someone was out here, had they been looking for him?
Shrubbery rustled. “Are you hurt?”
It suddenly made sense. Jed was going to see his wife because she was dead, and when people died, they could see their family again when Elira took them. He knew he’d been bleeding out, and Jaime had been fooling himself. Father was dead too, just like Mother-the baby-nobody was going to save them, and he was the only one left. A physician wouldn’t be able to do anything for Jaime either once the voice killed him.
He burst into great racking sobs and couldn’t move even as footsteps came closer. It didn’t care what his last name was, and he didn’t know how to be brave like Father.
Fur touched his face, and he screamed. The forest lion was going to sink its teeth in, and he’d bleed like Father-
The voice hushed him and took his arm to pull him up. Jaime’s legs shook like jellied fruit.
“I won’t hurt you. You can’t see me, can you? I’m a werewolf. I don’t eat little boys. Are you going to tell me why you’re wandering around in the dark?”
Jaime blubbered out an unintelligible response, not knowing how to answer.
The voice sighed. “Did you get lost? I bet a whole bunch of people are looking for you.”
Jaime sucked in a breath, not knowing if the werewolf truly planned to eat him. He’d heard others speak of them and call them trash. Animals. Dogs. Jed said they weren’t animals, and they didn’t appreciate being referred to as such or as fairies either. They were werewolves and not so bad even if they often preferred roaming and living off the land in most cases.
A courtier had once told him how werewolves liked gnawing on little boy’s legs after dunking them in garlic sauce.
“Listen, kid,” growled the werewolf. “I’m not going to eat you or whatever your family probably tells you about us. Tell me where you live, and I’ll drop you off nearby.” The hand rubbedhis arm. “Are you rich? This feels like silk. Are you a merchant’s kid?”
