Post Mortem : The Fates

Part 2 :Goodbye

Chapter 2: Goodbye

Young Rochelle was falling behind her father and brother. They moved so quickly her tiny legs could not keep up. It was like a turtle trying to outrun a cheetah. The forest had swallowed them whole. All she wanted to do was go home.

Occasionally, her father would casually glance behind to see if she still followed but his words were scarce. Even Alex who had never been noted for his lack of voice had grown eerily quiet as he followed his father like a good soldier would.

She briefly considered throwing a fit, stomping and screaming, but even that seemed far too childish for the eight-year-old. The breeze was harsh kicking up grains of dirt and stone. Pieces of earth flew up hitting her face and she instinctively covered her eyes keeping out debris.

Her dress was too long and the bottom was soaked in grimy wet mud. She gave up holding it to protect it from touching the ground a little over an hour ago. It had just been washed and would likely take hours to scrub the muck out and even then, she suspected it would stain.

Alex at eleven years old appeared a little short for his age. His long-sleeved shirt was too big for his body. The faded grey fabric drooped off his chest; the sleeves devoured his hands leaving him constantly rolling them back up. Somehow, he managed to keep a steady pace by his father's side.

Her father with his sandy blonde hair and deep green eyes wore his usual pale long sleeved shirt and brown leather vest along with brown trousers and black hunting boots. His body was somewhat muscular and tall. He carried a brown leather satchel filled with hunting and trapping tools over his broad shoulders. Her dress was dragging leaves.

She knew that both her father and Alex had been sneaking off at nighttime. It was possible that they were merely checking traps but then why were they so secretive? Was it just another thing they feared she was too young to understand? The desire to ask what it was they hid so carefully was growing fire in her chest. She would never know.

They were strangers to her now, different people. Her father had woken her before the sun rose his only explanation was that this day she was going with them, to hunt.

For the first time, she was to spend the entirety of the day with them. At first excitement had taken over her mind and she had foolishly thought that it would be fun. Then reality sucker punched her and she knew it would be anything but. Never had she expected it to be easy but she had at least thought they would talk to her. Every once and a while her father would stop and either set up a new trap or check an old one.

A couple of times her father attempted to show her how to build one. His knowing hands and voice desired her attention as each step was vocalized and demonstrated. It was attention that was never received. Her stare was empty as she watched, her ears were closed. He mentioned direction, stars and moss but whether the combination meant anything was lost to her. She was a student that refused to be taught.

The only thoughts that dwelled inside her head was the tugging realization that they had left when the sun was just beginning to come up and they would likely be out until it started to go down. She wished she had just stayed with her mother; housework did not seem so bad compared to this. Her father even refused to pick her up and carry her. "You have to learn to carry yourself." he had said.

Ahead clouded by the leafless and thin black twigs of a dying bush, a white ball of fluff was desperately struggling as though to run. Something anchored it firmly in place. As she closed the gap she noticed its anchor was a rope snare which formed a bracelet around its foot. The strong knotted rope jerked with the tiny leg. There would be no more running for this unfortunate creature.