The Unhappy Heart (Book 1 of The Wolfheart Trilogy)

9. The Young Soldier

Andrea smiled to herself as she slowly chewed on the thick slice of bread she held.

Luna...Lunette...Lunetta...Cynthia...Celena?

"I think Celena," she murmured out loud.

"What's that, dear?" asked Harriet, looking up.

Andrea flushed with embarrassment. "I was just thinking of a name for the calf."

Harriet smiled warmly. "Celena is a beautiful name."

Andrea went to reply, but at that moment the front door was violently thrown open and a soldier stood panting in the doorway. He glanced frantically about the room, his eyes wild and full of fear.

"Is the healer here?" he asked in an urgent tone.

Harriet rose quickly to her feet, her napkin still clutched in one hand. "I am her."

"We have a wounded comrade," the soldier explained,wiping his sweat covered brow with a trembling hand. "He's hurt bad."

Harriet quickly began gathering her bandages and ointments together that she had given to Andrea the day before and had left on the shelf. 

"Bring him in and place him on the table in that room," she commanded, pointing to her room where she kept all her medical supplies and which Andrea now realised was the surgery room. "And Andrea," she continued, turning to face her. "I think you should go and spend some time with that calf of yours, okay?"

Andrea nodded and headed to the door. But just as she came to it, four soldiers entered carrying their companion between them. Andrea immediately steppedback out of the way. But as they passed, she could not help but stare at theinjured man.

He was young, barely old enough to even be called a man. His dark hair was plastered to his face by the perspiration that covered it. He was breathing heavily with pain and Andrea felt her stomach churning nauseously as she saw why. Black blood gushed from hisneck and chest, racing in streams down his limp arms.

And as Andrea stared, he turned his head and their eyes met. They were soft youthful eyes filled with pain and fear. But seeing the horror and fear in her own eyes, he managed a small smile as if reassuring her it would be okay. In Andrea's heart she knew it wasn't and she knew deep down, he knew it too. She smiled back at him though, to give him courage. Then turning away, she fled to the barn. She didn't go to Celena, but instead climbed up to the loft and threw herself into the hay. Burying her face into her hands, she wept.

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Andrea sat up blinking wearily. How much time had passed, she did not know. Climbing slowly down the ladder, she crept over to the door and peeked out. There was no one in sight. Brushing the hay from her clothes and picking it from her hair, she walked quietly inside the house. Harriet and Hugo were seated at the table, talking in hushed tones.

"But it would be safer, Harriet," Hugo was saying in an arguing and desperate tone. "I know you hate the idea and so do I, but it may be for the best after all."

Harriet shook her head determinedly. "I feel there is something we can do to stop all this."

Hugo's hands clenched tightly around the steaming mug he held. "Harriet, listen. It's too late. Why can't you see that? The killing has started and there's nothing that can stop it. How can you still believe there is hope when you just saw that kid die? He was just a kid, Harriet! Someone's brother. Someone's son." Tears were filling his eyes as his voice rose, raw with emotion. "Just a kid. And he died in his own damn blood, his throat ripped open by beasts that are hungry for revenge. And yet...yet you still declare there its hope? Why? How?"

Harriet sighed, and Andrea saw that her eyes too were moist. "There's always hope, Hugo. Trust me, I will find a way."

"And how many more will die before then?" shouted Hugo, rising to his feet.

Harriet looked up at him calmly. "Sit down, Hugo. You are becoming distraught."

But Hugo refused to calm down. "I am distraught? He wasn't even twenty. He was too young to die, Harriet. He had so much to live for. He shouldn't have had to die."

Harriet slammed her mug down on the table, causing its contents to over spill. Her eyes flashed as she stared up at Hugo. "No, he shouldn't have but he did. And your yelling isn't going to bring him back. Do you think you are the only one who is upset by this? Do you think that just because I work among the dying, I no longer feel the pain of losing a patient? There are many who shouldn't have had to die, Hugo. I know that more than you."

Hugo stared at her stunned. In his mind's eye, he saw memories of Harriet working on the battlefield in the aftermaths of a war. He remembered how she had worked calmly but also quickly, wanting to save as many soldiers from death as she could, though deep down she knew there were many she would not reach in time, many who were long gone. He remembered how quietly she had left the home of a woman who had lost her babe and how she had not laughed for a long time after, not until she had saved many more. After a moment, he slowly sank back onto his chair and lower his head in shame. "Forgive me, Harriet. I didn't mean it. I let my emotions take over again."

Harriet took a deep breath. "I have to find a way before more blood is spilled. And not just humans but the mages as well. Who knows how many they have lost during these times. Do you understand now, why I must stay and why I have to keep hope?" Hugo nodded, and Harriet continued. "Without hope, all we have is despair and we can't let that happen. But I'm not going to stand by and do nothing either."

Hugo nodded again. "Yes, I understand now, but how can you do this when you don't even know who to trust? I mean, that wolf saved Andrea's life only days ago. And now it's tearing out the throats of soldiers."

Andrea stiffened at his words. The white wolf had been the cause of the young man's injuries? She took a step back and bumped against the shelf. Harriet and Hugo heard her and turned to face her. Both immediately rose to their feet. Andrea looked up and her eyes met Harriet's.

"They tried to warn me, Harriet," she whispered, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks. "They tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. And now he's dead. And it's all my fault. I am to blame." She could still see the soldier's eyes looking into hers. They were the eyes of a frightened child... of a boy who had so much to live for. "I killed that boy."

"Andrea-" Harriet was reaching out to her, eyes filled with concern.

Andrea shook her head. She didn't deserve to be fussed over. She didn't deserve to be loved. 

Spinning around, she fled out the door and up the path. It was to the hills that her feet carried her. Her gaze fixed on that peaked rock, she continued on. She had to get there. She had to tell them she had changed her mind. She had to confess she had been wrong. She had to confess her wrong had killed someone and she had to right that wrong. She had to turn the wolf in.