Maternal: Evil

Part 2. Stolen

Lady Verna took a seat across the road where Diemuths body had been discovered along with the child, which Lady Verna cradled in her arms.

Not far away, Ser Bryo and his three underlings had reluctantly prepared a proper grave for Diemuth, the squires seemed to be sweating more than they dug.

"Ser Bryo... This... woman, she won't come back... would she?"

Ser Bryo kept digging, unamused at the question.

"You ask me as if I should know, Kyra. If she does, than she may as well go back to being dead... This hole is 6 feet deep, she would have to dig herself out... Pack it well and she'll be one less corpse to worry about later. Now, be quiet and hurry, lest she rises and you end up the same as she."

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Diemuth had thought that she was still deceased, as she felt nothing. No cold, no heat, no touch... but, suddenly, she felt an urge to gasp, she could breathe.

She sucked in as much air as she could, and she opened her eyes. Still, it was all darkness.

It smelled of dirt and freshly laundered cloth And she didn't know where she was or where she could possibly be. But through the darkness, she could see a faint light in the corner of her vision, it got larger and larger, as if the moon had burst directly in front of her eyes. She shut them immediately to shield herself from the harmful light, but it didn't go away.

That was when she heard a voice, or many voices... and even though it was speaking, the couldn't understand what was being said to her.

"Know not what you are. Know not what you do. Know not what you think... Know what you feel..."

She felt as if her head was being spun, and she felt like her head was being churned into a paste.

"You are NOT finished yet. You're death remains undecided. Go back... I will stay with you. Once you return, you will find everything you need for the journey ahead."

She could not comprehend what she had heard, was this a part of dying?

But the light faded and she realized that she was alone... no child... she remembered that she had, only moments ago, gave birth to a child, that which she herself had created. But now, it was absent. Without a trace.

She began to panic, she was alone in a small dark space, much like the ones she would often be in within her nightmares, yet this space was sealed. Her breathing became heavy and she desperately tried to thrash about, hoping it would somehow tear the cloth prison she lay in.

That is when she felt a sharp pain in the palm of her hand as if something bit her. The stinging sensation made her wince, she calmed herself down a little, though it was too dark too see, so she used her hand to investigate what it was that might have caused it.

The space was tight, but reaching down, she felt at it... it appeared to be a sharp blade, like she had seen in some villages, the ones they used to separate the heads from the bodies of chicken and livestock.

She felt a tug within her soul, and deep within her thoughts, she knew her baby was still alive. She refused to stay bound.

With a heavy grunt, she reached further down the blade, grabbing at what she knew would be the handle, and twisting it so that it would be able to cut through the cloth. She could not see, but she could feel the blade go through the baggy material.

It was getting hard to breathe, but she didn't care, she kept cutting all the way through. That is when she felt cold, moist dirt touch her hand. She felt freedom. She felt one step closer to getting her child back into her arms. She needed to hold her baby again.

She struggled and struggled, but, she managed to cut the bag open entirely, at least enough to start digging through the dirt and insects that wiggled their way in. She used the blade, pushing dirt away little by little, until the resistance became weaker with every scrape.

Finally, her blade had burst through the earth and into the open air. She was finally free.

After she brought her head up, she took a deep breathe of fresh, cool air. And even though she was free from her burial, she couldn't enjoy it. She could enjoy nothing as long as she was alone.

She no longer felt tired or weak, she was only determined, she felt energized.

Her vision blurred, reality had distorted and the voices returned.

"Good... I knew I was right in choosing you, persistent one. Take my blade, and my cloak."

She heard the voices, yet she still couldn't understand what the words meant. She never could anyways.

Still, she knew that she had to follow her body, because she just had a nagging, overwhelming feeling that she had to seek out her child, her baby... Why else would she still be alive, in this mortal plane?

She looked down at her hand, now seeing the sharp object in the light. It was a blade for sure, but it didn't appear to be meant for separating chicken heads... that is when she also noticed that she was covered from the wrist down in a black, paint like substance that warped and distorted like water.

It felt strange to the touch as well, gritty, yet soft, like a very fine powder.

She then pulled the rest of her body out of the earth, and the experience made her feel like a plant that had sprung directly from the dirt. Yet, as she pulls herself out, she realizes that her entire body is covered in the black, silky material, a fresh set of clothing, and away went the burlap.

After her observation, she peered around her, it was now night time, the moon was the only source of illumination, the hole she crawled out of had a stick next to it, it was dug into the ground and it had the shape of a crude cross tied together by rope.

Without much else to think of or observe, she got up and began walking. She didn't know where to go exactly, but her gut insinct was guiding her north, down the dirt road. Her baby was this way...

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