Fawn's Veil

Officials

A shock came crackling through her nerves, the way it might if she had dropped a blade point-first toward her foot. There was a rattled and aggressive knock at the door. It was a Cast patrol, surely come to apply some further reprimand.

They would neither say nor do anything good, should they discover her here, her brothers’ bodies outside, and her mother expired on the floor—from the injury she herself had inflicted. Like a frightened animal, Fawn instinctively sprung up from the floor. With a dexterous leap she moved onto the table, up the closest pillar, and into the space between the rough-hewn tiles and their supporting timbers.

As the knock had now gone unanswered, the Cast reacted as they always did.

“Open this door, we do not tolerate disobedience!”

And with that, the poorly built door cracked down the middle and fell apart, spilling fragments of light across the floor. Immediately sighting the body slumped against the table, they strolled across the room, and proceeded to simply kick it in an offhand manner.

One of the three Soldiers held an expression of disrespect, making sure the poor, perished woman before him knew that he thought her life was worth less than the time taken to discover its conclusion. Watching their utter disregard for her entire family and living space, Fawn’s fear began to exchange for a darkened clarity.

A cold feeling moved through her body, the pain in her little ankle exacerbating the tension. She could see her breath forming in front of her. There was just enough cold in the treacherous desert land to make her warmth contrast against the morning air. She drew her breath in and thought for a moment.

What do I do?

There were three of these contemptible Cast, and all three were grown men with no love for children—less for girl children, and still least of all for the child who evaded punishment for her violation of their rules.

They were talking about what they wanted to do with her home, as if it were nothing more than freshly caught food they had ‘confiscated’ from some poor villager, and were now callously dividing up right in front of him. This continued disrespect caught Fawn’s ears. She felt her stomach tighten and heart slow, her teeth pressed hard together.

She was not privy to cycles of combat training, violent propensities, or experience with subduing Soldiers. Realizing that no matter how she responded, she was very unlikely to come out of it alive, she started to let the need for vengeance go somewhat—in favor of not joining her mother in a blood stain on the floor.

It disturbed her that the worst part would be what they could say over her as she died, or even what they might dare to do with her body once she was critically wounded. Her brother had warned her that she was the kind of beauty that amoral men would treat as a toy for games of their own devising, given the chance.

She never really asked for specifics, as she had not any cause to do so before, but her feeling was that her brother was warning of something terrible, and that these men were precisely the type she needed to be wary of.

Having decided there was no real way for her to exact a sufficient punishment for their distasteful behavior without getting caught herself, she decided to stay hidden and figure out a better approach. Fawn’s tutors had always said she was clever enough to accomplish anything she focused on.

Yet in the days of schooling past, she was rarely inclined to actually focus on the tasks she was given, due to finding them entirely uninteresting and rewardless. Now would be the time when she could focus the best of her mind and see what she was capable of, dearly hoping that those tiresome tutors were correct. She now required all possible intellect and wiles if she was to become the predator she needed to be, rather than the prey she currently was.

Staying hidden was clearly the right choice. The Soldiers eventually left having found nothing they considered new information regarding the girl who had been stolen from their execution. In truth, they were far less interested in the effort required to do so correctly than in finding a newer, easier target. They left behind them the smell of blood, as they always did. To Fawn, their sounds were loud, harsh, far too frequent, and their stench was pungent. Her brothers had always been soft-spoken and mild of odor, something she had thought was just natural to all men.

Only now she knew it to be her siblings that were unusual, perhaps in consideration of her sensitivity.

She wondered how she had gone so long not noticing these smells, and the stark noises of the other people intermittently around her.

In this moment she began to see more clearly how much she differed from others: not just her colored skin and faultless physicality, but even the way she perceived the world.

Still without a true understanding of why, she resigned herself to it being something she could now use to better survive.

She needed to move forward.

The time she could safely stay here was quickly running out and she needed a good option. With no friends or extended family to reach out to, she knew her choices were very limited. Finding somewhere to hide and something to eat were quickly going to be the only things that mattered.

Quietly, but with remarkable swiftness, she pulled herself over the crude rafters and down onto the stairway, her limbs traversing like liquid with accuracy born of purpose. Now consciously committed to keeping herself alive, there were new thoughts and feelings of dedication running through her, making a viable path for her to move along—a path that she was quickly coming to understand was hers alone.

Waiting, hidden until the fierce sun had dropped behind the dust and sand that made up the horizon, she collected the knife that had drained her mother, slid herself out of the small decrepit building and onto the dusty road behind the home.

After fewer than ten steps, she skewered her foot on a protruding rock.

Having a fresh wound already through her other ankle, a stone cut on her foot was going to be a major issue. She yelped, struggling hard to hold in the reaction, and any noise that would come with it. After all, the Cast were always only a moment away, and most certainly a child’s scream would bring them running ... to see what they could take from the situation.

Quickly sitting down to tend to the hurt, she noticed the reactive nature of the damage. Something was burning her flesh where the rock had punctured it: a form of naturally occurring acid in the dirt and on most of the minerals on the planet.

She started to scrub at the cut with a piece of the garment she had made for herself. Gratefully, it was a cloth of a much softer and kinder nature than her previous outfit, and she was able to stem the acidic reaction and bleeding somewhat—not perfectly—but she needed to keep moving.

Hobbling on both feet due to the true misfortune of having the stab wound through her right ankle, and the acid-burnt puncture in her left foot, she made her way slowly.

For a moment her feelings started to take over and she slumped forward in a depression. Feeling the emotional weight on her back, at a loss to explain the awful situation in which she found herself, for a moment she was overcome with despair.

“Why ... me?”

But then only one moment later her resolve re-formed with the memory of what her kin endured to protect her life. She pulled herself up once again and snarled at her wounded feet.

“Stop complaining!”

Quickly and quietly skirting the edge of the Village, she started looking for anything that she might use as a temporary hiding place to gather herself, and maybe if she was very lucky, get some sleep. Her muscles were worn from moving over the rough ground, with her basic bandages only just keeping the blood from spilling out onto the dirt and giving her location away.

People would be looking for her now, and possibly en masse. This whole situation had never occurred in the short time that Fawn had existed. Those who were accused of any crime were simply caught and punished, most often to their deaths.

There were few, if any, examples of what one would call a criminal at large. In part, because of the generational training and belief system that led to the extremity of subjugation, clearly evident within the Village itself.

There was a valley behind the Village going down from the wall. It then progressed onward to a cliff face rising in the distance that would make a reasonable retreat location, if she could cover the ground effectively in the time she had. She found a failing portion of the wall, where it was lower than it should have been. Climbing out there was easy enough, and once outside she followed some rocks that led the way she needed to go.

They were craggy and irregular enough to conceal her from prying eyes. After some time moving through the rocks, she found herself at the base of the valley looking up at the cliff. She turned to make her way up the sharp and unforgiving face.

Part way up the difficult surface, she realized there was a good chance that she would injure herself further on the Razor Rocks as she went up higher. Her brothers had always warned against climbing too high up the rocks, because as they gained in altitude, they also increased in hazard. Now taking extra care with every movement, she continued to make her way up the cliff face, with one simple thought driving her.

No one else will come up here.

Able to climb, and maneuver her way with relative ease, despite the pain in her feet, the task felt far less difficult than she imagined.

Finally, something I can do.

Climbing on like someone born to it, she pulled herself from one dangerous razor to the next, slipping like water over a riverbed. After some time, she finally found herself at a cave large enough for an exhausted girl.

As she crossed the cave threshold, she was immediately grateful for the shade and slight moisture present inside. Once the sun rose, it would become increasingly difficult to find any reprieve from the ferocious heat and harsh light without seeking out shelter.

The Village was only made of basic and unpleasant buildings, yet they were essential for survival as the sun reached its summit each day.

As she passed further into the cave, she started to feel peaceful enough to rest. Finally, some quiet without the risks that had plagued her day-in and day-out since this awfulness began––an event that felt like it was a lifetime ago.

Within the insulated dark of the cave, she was able to stop and breathe long enough to feel the terrible dryness in her mouth. A headache formed, accompanying the hollow in her stomach. It had been some time since she had a chance to attend to food or water. There was a wet moss growing on the cave wall, from which there was significant water to be had if she twisted it in cloth to press out its moisture.

This was sufficient for now. Moisture Moss, correctly harvested and processed, was frequently a water source for the villagers. There would, however, be a dire need for food of some kind very soon. She settled in, sitting with her back against the cave wall.

I wish I’d brought food.

There would likely be some kind of search group sent out to look for her soon, as news of her mother’s death would have made its way back to the authorities by now. Regardless of her having been spared the punishment for her clothing defiance, there would be another ascribed to her for the ultimate passing of her mother. Whether she actually had anything to do with it or not, she would be blamed as a former law breaker, although this time of course, it was her doing ...

Oh Gods. I let her die.

No matter what the terrible crimes of inaction her mother had committed, she was still her mother, and had been her only parent, having never known her father. The burden of loss weighed on her young soul immensely. There was so little that she felt she could’ve done differently in order to survive, and that had quickly become her only focus.

Mother should have protected me, shouldn’t she? ... Isn’t that what mothers do? Why didn’t she help me?

Ferocity grew ever stronger in her mind.

Why?!

She kept obsessing over the same thought, until finally it spilled out.

“I HAD NO CHOICE!”

The sound echoed through the back of the cave: there was obviously more to this cave than she originally believed. As she heard the echo clack and rattle through the caverns behind her, she felt her stomach sink.

I can’t make that kind of noise, they’ll find me!

With a frantic realization and racing pulse, she held her breath, covered her mouth, waiting ... listening for the predators that would pursue her, and the shout of self-righteousness that would come from the Soldiers if they found her. That noise they would make. Those monsters that take so much, and give nothing.

There came no such noise, she was finally able to exhale now. She was, however, left with the clear thought that from now on, she must keep her anger and frustration with the world restricted to thoughts. The risk of discovery was too great.

–Garrick M Lynch–