Page 83 of To Free a Soul
A thin layer of snow blanketed every surface it could collect upon, like the bare branches, the hard ground, and the rocks. The forest looked barren, grisly even, especially as the flora wasn’t used to such low temperatures.
Many spindly trees native to Austrális had wilted and didn’t look as grand or strong as they once did. They were acclimatised to harsh and hot summers, and barely cool winters. In their place, trees similar to evergreens, fir, and pine had grown, spread outwards from the Veil by creatures that unknowingly carried their seeds.
The Veil had a massive impact on Austrális, messing with its climate and the very way the landscape functioned. With no barren desert, it was unmistakably different.
Then again, Lindiwe was the only human who had visibly witnessed its change, and was the only one who complained.
“I only hate the snow because it’s not meant to be here,” she said, with her back resting against a boulder. “I hate what it means, how it came to be.”
Her child, barely bigger than a newborn, gave a quiet trill in answer. Her lips quirked as she grabbed their soft, malleable hands, so they could curl their little fingers around her thumbs. They were supported on her lap with her knees bent to give them something to rest their back on – and stop them from rolling off.
Her smile instantly died.
They were cute, as were all her children when they were babies. They bore no skull, no horns, and were still tiny and clinging – although this one was clingier than most.
They also had a nasty habit of getting upset if any living thing came near her. It didn’t matter if it was their brothers, Orpheus and Leonidas, another human, or even a meek little bunny. This child, compared to her many others, was possessive of her, her scent, her presence.
It made doing anything but spending time with them difficult, and she often had to shove them inside her clothing to block out any foreign scents by encasing them entirely in her own.
Then again, Leonidas was being Leonidas, still trying to play catch and kill, and barely listening to her. Orpheus, on the other hand... he was still impossible to approach.
He hadn’t been humanoid for quite some time, and the scars on his heart were lasting. He was easier to agitate, more possessive of his territory, and violent.
But she knew he was getting used to her presence again, getting used to the hurt he constantly carried in his much-too-deep-blue orbs. He prowled his territory, and he’dfinallyre-entered his house after months of refusing to do so. Mainly to sit in the quiet dark, and whatever else he did in there, but she could hear him whimpering in the loneliness of those walls he built for someone else.
At least he’d gone inside. That was a start.
Lindiwe also had more pressing issues. One in particular constantly nagged her almost every single minute of every day.It had her mind tingling with anticipation, unsatisfied, and also had worry eating at her.
“He told me he’d only be gone a few months,” Lindiwe muttered, as she played with her baby’s bendable fingers. “It’s been over a year.”
She’d given birth in June of last year, and it was now the middle of July in the year eighteen hundred and thirty-eight.
All that time, Lindiwe had waited for Weldir’s voice to fill her mind. To wake up and resume being a distant presence in her life that she didn’t want to be so distant anymore.
“I... can’t wait much longer.”
As much as she wanted to adhere to her unspoken promise, Lindiwe had to move on. She had to continue her life, checking on their children and progressing in some form.
She let go of their hand to place her palm on the fleshless, cleaned fox skull strapped to her waist. After eight months of waiting, Lindiwe had stumbled upon Demons chasing a fox in the dead of night and intervened to take their kill. She’d given what remained to this child, which offered them their skeletal bones and fluffy fox tail, but she’d kept the head.
She’d been saving it for Weldir’s return, knowing the creature didn’t have to be recently deceased to give them their skull.
I even know what animal I’ll use to complete them.They’d managed to get to a bird before she took it from them, so they had a cute patch of feathers around their neck. But she intended to give them deer antlers when she decided they were ready to reach mindless adulthood.
I’ve... already picked their name too.
Lindiwe had seen many foxes during her travels. One of her children from Unerica bore such a skull with pronghorn antlers. Like many native cultures around the world, she’d fallen in love with the people there, their way of life, and even their language – and they’d been kind enough to share it with her.
It was why she’d named that child Inali, meaningblack foxin their language – a name often associated with strength, bravery, and cunning. And her child needed all of those to battle against the Demons.
But I plan to call you Fennec, like the big-eared foxes I’ve seen in Zafrikaan.She moved their arms up and down for them, making them celebrate their name they’d forget, and may never know.They are so cute and fluffy, just like you’ll probably be.
She’d had so much time, all of it alone, that she’d been able to plan all this.
Lindiwe was ready to let go. She was ready for them to go off into the big world by themselves and be the monstrous servant Weldir wanted. To become their own person, and make their own choices and mistakes.
To live beyond her and move past infancy.
