“Me and Cecilia are going to have a word,” she pushes past both of us, an embodiment of cold fury. A mother bear out to defend her cub. She hadn’t even waited to hear what happened, and so it is as Randy wraps up a deep gash in my forearm and cleans the mess from my face that I retell the day’s story.
Everything had started off as planned, myself along with a few of Avlym’s other kids had been escorted to the edge of the forest with Ida as was usual. An exercise to keep us out of the way from the proper workers and give our parents a break while still being productive and feeling useful. We had begun picking berries from the trees, filling our baskets as Ida recounts stories from years past or else deals out unrelated pieces of advice or wisdom. We race each other, trying to pick more than the child next to us, and every now and then revealing our spoils to Ida in the hope for some praise.
“The hunter preys on Mother Nature but it is she who is the ultimate predator,” was one particular titbit, “Fire is both our light in the darkest hour, and our symbol for destruction. It reduces life to ashes and yet these ashes help breed the next generation,” was another. Completely unpredictable statements falling on young deaf ears, yet they were a familiar and comforting noise as we worked. I also note curiously that I can still remember them, perhaps her words did have more impact on me than I realised.
I was content by myself off to one side, gradually approaching my personal quota, glad to be contributing to the community.
SQUELCH! My cheek stings as a berry explodes onto me, dripping down to mark my shirt. Gleeful laughter follows.
Behind me Rhys and Damion ready to aim again. The two of them have torn a couple of thorny branches away from the bushes and are using them to launch berries into the air. At first, they had been mindlessly assaulting the undergrowth but upon seeing that one of the berries had gone astray to target me they have delightfully discovered a better sport.
Wow. It’s been a long time since I remembered Damion, Bennie’s boy. He was a hushed name now back in Avlym, another victim to the forest. It had been his disappearance that had led to Bennie’s current state of perpetual drunkenness. That and his wife, it had been too much for his poor wife. Avlym had mourned two loved ones that day.
That was part of the reason why everyone tolerated the village drunk so much, whilst most didn’t know his son’s nature, everyone had loved his wife, she had been a good friend of my mum’s. After such a tragedy who would blame the man? He had suffered as much as any of us.
No closure ever came either, no body was ever found. Damion had just disappeared. He hadn’t been the first and he hadn’t been the last.
Damion used to have a den where he and Rhys would hide out. His mother had hated it, trying to forbid him from going near it after he tripped and got a nasty scar stretching over one eye. Of course, he hadn’t listened, Rhys had managed to convince him that the scar made him look like a warrior and they spent more time in the nearby forest than ever.
One day he had set off alone, this was not unusual, but he had never come back. The whole village looked for him for days, it’s the only time I remember seeing Rhys in tears. It is also one of the very few times I can remember the hunters staying out in the forest overnight, none willing to give up their search until morning. Despite the unpleasant nature of the boy, it always wounded the village deeply whenever a child went missing, even I had found myself mourning him.
The two of them are running towards me now as I back away through the brambles. When I am cornered against a tree, they begin using the berries from my basket as ammunition, Damion throwing berries into the air for Rhys to try and hit towards me. I watch as my hard work is quite literally thrown right back into my face.
I yell at them to stop but still they advance towards their trapped target, with each step more fruit is launched upwards and the thorny whip lashes down. I flinch as I realise what is about to happen. The berries disappear as they splat into the bark above me and I raise my forearm in defence whilst Rhys’s stroke arches towards me head.
The thorns cut deep, and I cry out in pain, finally I am loud enough to get Ida’s attention. The two boys take off running, whilst they may be tyrants to me, they are still young enough to fear a scolding from an adult.
Too late to catch the culprits, Avlym’s elder comes bustling towards me and eager to avoid her lecturing me for injuring myself and the humiliating walk past the others as she takes me back to Avlym, I set off running towards the village before she can get to me. It is a couple of minutes later when struggling for breath, the tearful nine-year-old me crosses the threshold to meet Randall and mother.
As I tell this to Randall between sobs, gradually regaining control, the concern in his face grows. Following his promise not to pay Rhys a visit, he resolves to start teaching me. My dishevelled mother returns a half hour later, rumours would later tell that her and Cecilia had been part of a small conflict before the baker’s wife had ended up kicked into a small pile of flour bags. She finds the two of us running laps between the house and the forest edge pausing only to launch blunt spears at old sacks.
For a few years following
