3. Edge Of The Trees

~Esmarie Seraphine Vale~

I ran harder.

Back through the bushes, across the bank. And when I saw it—still breathing, barely—I let out a breath that shook through my ribs.

Dropping to my knees beside it, I mixed a little alcohol in the water before soaking a cloth in it and carefully pressed it to the wound. The blood had dried sticky and thick, clumping in the fur. I worked gently, using water and fabric to clean the area, wincing as it twitched under my touch.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, over and over like a prayer. “It’s okay, I’ve got you now.”

It needed something to eat or even drink. There was enough water, but there was no food and I didn’t think I had any limbs to spare.

This was the first wild animal I had seen since I found this lake ten years ago, and I had come here almost every single day since then. There was nothing to hunt, and it wasn’t even in a state to.

I needed to go back and see if I could steal some pork from the salt crook or some chicken from the poultry.

A strangled whine escaped its throat as I pressed harder against the wound, trying to press out all the bad blood.

“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, dipping the cloth back into the bowl. “I know it hurts.”

It took some time, but I finally got the wound to stop bleeding. It would just have to survive on water for now.

I rinsed out the bowl before fetching some clean water and setting it beside it.

I didn’t even realize just how long time had passed since I had been here. The sun was already dipping low, casting gnarled shadows against the earth.

I needed to go back. My father would soon be back from the bank where he worked and I didn’t think my body could handle any beating this evening. Michael and Jared couldn't have their way with me once their father was around. Even they were somehow scared of him.

Not that he served as any form of protection—Michael and Jared were hormonal bastards who most times wanted to feel me up in the wrong places and have their way with me. Ever since hair had begun to grow on their chins, that was their daily mission.

I refused to have my dignity taken away from me. I’d fought them for as long as I could remember despite how close they had gotten to achieving their perverted goals.

If that was horrifying, nothing compared to my father. He believed women were born to be whores and loose-mannered. The only way to liberate them was by the rod. Imagine getting pummeled for planting roses in front of our house. According to him, roses attracted men, and I was planting them to signal my lovers here.

Please. If I had a lover, did he really think I wouldn't have run away with him since?

An insistent force against my hand pulled me out of my train of thought and I looked down to see that I had been running my fingers absent-mindedly through the fur on its head, and its eyes were wide open now, like it had gained a little strength and it kept following my hand.

“You like that, huh?” I whispered, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite everything. “Me too.”

Its nose twitched slightly, and I almost laughed. Not because anything was funny—God, nothing about this was funny—but because I couldn’t remember the last time something looked at me without malice.

Yet.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” I said, as much to convince myself as the creature. “I’ll bring food. Maybe even a better bandage. Don’t try to walk too much or get up. I’ve placed water close to you—” I pointed at the bowl of water beside it. “—don’t move. At all.”

I rose slowly, ignoring the ache in my knees and the dampness clinging to the hem of my dress. I knew it didn't understand what I was saying, but there was something intelligent in those eyes, something far too aware for any regular animal.

I ran my hand through its fur one last time, watching as its eyelids fluttered at the contact between us.

“I'd love to see you again,” I whispered. “Please don’t leave without a goodbye.”

Then I turned and walked away.

Every step back toward the house felt heavier. The closer I got, the more the weight of what waited for me returned like chains coiling around my ankles.

By the time I reached the edge of the trees, I could already hear the faint slam of a door. My stomach twisted.

He was home.

I braced myself.

The bruises from last week still hadn't faded, and I knew the next few hours would be about survival.

But for the first time in what felt like forever, I had something else to hold onto. Something to return to.

A secret, wild thing that needed me.