Westward

Chapter 7

////She tries to kill herself in this chapter so if you are sensitive to that kind of thing, please dont read this. I dont know what I might have written that might seem mean or uncaring towards others but trust me, if you find something, tell me and I will fix it cause it isn't purposeful.////

Aowyn could hardly sleep. Jay had given her his coat to have as a blanket but the chilled air crept into every open corner, slipping though her hair and sending goose pimples rippling down her skin. He had insisted that she eat the rest of the berries but the sourness made her stomach feel more empty than ever.

The screams had stopped completely, but the memory refused to fade. Ringing in her ears until she wished to die. The night was long and filled with howls of coyotes and the chirps of crickets. The river, somewhere down below, was unaudible though Aowyn imagined that she could sense its presence. It made her feel colder, but it took her mind off her family. And screams. And pain.
People used to say, in Thinour, to those who had lost sombody close that "they are still with you" and other rubbish like that. It had sounded good and comforting before, but Aowyn understood now, why they continued crying and mourning. There was a gaping hole here that would never be filled up by her mothers small smiles. She wouldn't ever hear her brother smack his lips over and over and over until he found a new habit to take up. How Papa used to make it seem like a game to see who could get a largest waist the fastest; they were too thin already. Some neighbors thought that it was a "disturbing contest," but Aowyn found it comforting that she could imagine that it was all for fun, that it was not actually a fatal matter.
She nibbled her lip and thought about her own words, time cannot heal a dead girl's scars. It held too much truth to be divulged by such easy speech, so quick and thoughtless she had been, but those words clung to her, hating and loving them in such a suffocating way. The healing would stop, yes, but the pain would too.
Peeling open her eyes halfway, she let them ajust to the darkness, feeling as if she had been awake for such an inscrimental eternity. The crickets purred to a droning beats, whispering somwhere on the parched earth below. Fingers twitching, she stilled them and began to soundlessly sit up, so as not to wake up Jay who was a delicate sleeper, and had awoken often. Using only stomach muscles to pull her body up, Aowyn wouldn't dare move her arms, it would rustle the fiberous cloth of the jacket making too much noise. Gently slipping her hands under the coat and sliding it off onto the cracked dirt.
Aowyn's eyes had uncovered it's darkness and revealed the silent song of this night that was missed by the world. She kneeled, tilting her pointed chin up to the sky, gasping at the beauty of the star soaked sky. Across the drop of the cliff, the horizon could just be seen, a possible light might have glowed from the base of where the world tipped off. The sun. The beautiful, hopeful, rising sun. She wondered what happened when sombody went off the edge of the earth. Maybe you would just fall forever until you died; a plummeting corpse. If there were people on the other side, then she wondered if they saw the body. Just a glimpse on the horizon, but she never saw any bodies fall from here. Well we are right side up when they are upside down, Aowyn remembered.
She remembered why she had gotten up anyway and then suddenly, the night was depressing again. Breathing heavily, she glanced over at Jay to see if he was still asleep. He was, finally, and deeply too by the looks of it. On the other side of the dead fire, lying prone on his back one arm bent over his head, the other was being used as a pillow. He looked funny as he slept, breathing deeply through his nose. One of them probably should have been on watch to look for the hound dogs and other Narcians but, they blew it off. Probably a careless act in other circumstances but, Aowyn had hardly slept at all taking the place of the unassigned guard.
She turned back to the cliff edge, crawling until she was only a yard from the drop. It did not look in danger of cracking, she felt surprisingly safe; precariously balanced on the fingertips of death. Aowyn bit back the pain in her hands, gripping the crumbling dust. Thin, dried roots appeared as the rocks dissolved, clinging there to the edge, like she was. Aowyn started to hyperventilate, realizing that this could be her last sight. It was indeed a beautiful view but, she didn't know what to do. Didn't know anything. The air seemed to shift around her, becoming slightly more...
free.
I could just jump. That's all it would take to get away from all of this. Away from the worry and grief and pain. I've got nothing to loose but my life and that is nothing at all. Why not?
Aowyn sipped the shadows through her lips, savoring each breath as she thought. Thought desperately hard on what albatross was holding her back. The only things that would ever make her want to back off would be sentimentality and love. It definitely isn't sentimentality; everything that she cherished was gone. Pillaged or burned until none was left. This thought made her inch closer.
The automatic fears kicked in, vertigo and the instinct to push away. Her back felt heavier as if her own body was working against her mind to lay down in a safer position. Aowyn fought that instinct. Reigning her breaths and closing her eyes until her heartbeat had slowed. Partly wishing that she would accidentally slip and fall accidentally. The fear held her back.
Would it hurt? Maybe for a second, then it would be over. Over. For good. Not the fake "over" that is never actually real.
She contemplated the word. Do I really want it all to be gone? The trees, the stars and the smiles.
The smiles? Where did she get that from? She hadn't smiled since... since... Her mother. That was the last time she had been genuinely happy.
Aowyn held her marred hands up to see them. Three streaks. To keep her from picking the lock or something like that. They hadn't anticipated one of their own going against them like Jay had done. She found herself looking back at him, watching the rise and fall of his breaths. So melodic and steady, she was jealous of such calm sleep.
For a minute, Aowyn just paced his breaths and matched them to her own, they were so slow and deep she felt dizzy from lack of oxygen. Tense muscles that she hadn't even thought of began to relax and soften, even the constant throbbing seemed to wane from everywhere she hurt. The sudden foolishness of the suicidical thoughts dawned on her and she scooted farther from the drop, suddenly scared of what she might have done. Tiny bits of pain and worry seeped back inside. Aowyn fought back at them and switched her thinking back to Jay.
Why did that make her calm of all things? She did'nt have any affection for him. Except appreciation of course, for saving her and all. Right? He wasn't handsome or anything, well, not really handsome, just... sort of... Her mother always wanted her to marry sombody rich and young and kind. That of course would never happen because that combination never came together. Why would sombody love a ragged, soon-to-be-vagabond like her?
How in the world did marriage come into mind? Of all the stupid things to suggest that topic...
Aowyn felt her face turn hot.
Everything came back to her mother. She hated how that happened though, she loved thinking about her. But-
Aowyn.
She came out of the daze with a start, all senses alert. Peeling apart her closed lips she searched the clearing frantically.
Darling.
It sounded like her mother. The same Finnish lilt at the end, captured by Aowyn's grandmother. The the tone was the same as when she was younger and used to steal crumbs of bread from the cupboard. Slightly scolding and slightly regretful that she had to ration food for her own daughter.
"Mum?" She whispered all around, not quite sure where the voice was coming from. Jay didn't stir. "Mum?" Aowyn called a bit louder, getting scared and exited and desperately frantic.
Aowyn doll. Here.
It came from... down below? Aowyn bit back a teary smile. She quickly built a wall around the hope that blossomed inside that her mother; all of her family were alive. The wall was already crumbling away from her mourning heart.
Aowyn hardly had to ignore the pains in her hands as she crawled toward the edge. It all went away when she saw what was below.
Mother. It was her. She was there. Not dead. There. In a long white robe that was so bright and silvery that Aowyn had to squint. A twisted golden rope was tied loosely around her lean waist, no longer skinny and undernourished looking. Her hair was clean and thick again, the grey streaks in front pulled to the back in a way that almost-showed it off, endeared it to her.
Aowyn gasped and tried to back off from the edge, or she might collapse of surprise. Her eyes however were clasped to her mother's amber-brown irises, searching for every detail that made mother-well, mother. The freckles that clustered close to her left cheekbone and the little uneven hairs that could have been bangs. Even the tiny scar on her hairline from when Aowyn's brother was in a throw-everything-in-sight stage. She felt and looked so real yet... there was no way. And how could she find Aowyn way up here?
"Mum, are you real? Why are you... How did you-"
The figure moved a single finger to her lips and closed her eyes the way a feather touches the ground, gently and unnoticeably. Mother dipped her head and climbed through the air until they were face to face.
Aowyn was frozen to the spot. She wanted to move but couldn't, yet could move yet wouldn't. Emotions threw themselves into her heart and couldn't decide what they were, fear, confusion, comfort, love? She managed to lift her sticky hand from the dirt and reach to her mother's hair. There was a strange pull, then that feeling when wind hits an object and demands to keep moving around, so it becomes a barrier itself, pushing things away though also drawing them in. He hand broke the barrier and inside was all calm, pure serene and blissfully quiet. Her hand passed through her mother's hair, the layer of storm beating on the outside of her wrist while som much silence within. It defied everything her brain and eyes told her what could be true. Aowyn searched her mother's face, hand suspended out, fingers disappearing into what must be an illusion. Fog billowed from Aowyn's nostrils as her breathing became dangerously rapid. But if it didn't make sense to her brain, how could her mind create such an illusion? Wouldn't delirium make this seem normal? Aowyn couldn't find her voice. Just staring once again into her mother's face. It wasn't even a pretty face, it just was hers.
Don't doubt my existence, doll. I most certainly not here, if that clears anything up.
Aowyn could only gape and withdrawl her hand, shaking her head and searching her face, wanting so badly to fall into her mother's arms.
"Where is Papa?" She murmured, not even sure if it was aloud or not. "And Mak?" Her mother took on that look she had when their savings got lower, tight and yet knowing there is nothing to be done about it.
Were they the ones you most wanted to see?
Aowyn felt her head feel lighter. She wanted to lay down and sleep, but her heart ached too much. Of course she wanted to see her whole family, why shouldn't she?
No doll, you are seeing to much with your eyes. See with your soul instead, it is much more accurate.
That made no sense in the slightest. Her soul didn't have eyes, but if it did, what would it see?
A tear dropped straight from her left eye without contacting her cheek, through her mother as if she were nothing. Part of Aowyn saw it fall through, while the other illuded to it falling onto mother's chest. Why was she so far away? She couldn't reach anything except her hair and even that had a danger to it. Why wasn't mother bothering to touch her own daughter?
As if reading her mind, mother extended her hand to meet the edge of the cliff where stone met free air. Aowyn barely hesitated before grasping it with all her might. There was that rush of hot wind. Mother traced one of Aowyn's scars on her palm with the pad of her index finger, eyes searching over it not like it was a wound but more like it was strange lettering that only the priest at church could read. Aowyn leaned and tried to stroke the untouchable arm.
Then another body rose up beside her mother, sitting cross legged, sandy ruffled hair looking so perfectly tousled. Her brother, Mak. He grinned up at her with that four year old grin and also traced the second scar on her hand. And he clapped his cheeks and a bit of spittle bubbled at the corner of his bright red lips, his blue eyes looked old. Like an elder who knows too much. Or the last surviving warrior. Her vision shifted to the third figure, rising from the air. Father. Another tear fell though Aowyn was not aware of it.
They made no sound as Father ran a neatly calloused finger down the last scab. As his hand drew away, she didn't even have time to look at him before they all disappeared. Just like that.
And they were gone. Her hand burned like fire on her scars. Like sombody burned words with a hot iron into her palm.
Without hardly realizing it. Aowyn sobbed and whimpered thing she would never have dared said before. She cussed and cried. Told the truth about every lie she ever remembered telling and wept. Spreading her arms wide, she stood up, almost crumpling down again from the pain in her feet. Then she jumped.