Tattered Gray

Chapter Six

Whenever I wasn't wiping away the beads of sweat gathering at my brow, I was swatting irritably at the flies that had migrated from their feast of dead men to swarm me instead. I had been walking for a while now, and my clothes clung uncomfortably to my damp skin. Earlier a large redbud leaf had fluttered in front of my face as it cascaded down from the branches overhead, and I had been fanning myself with it, but now I was too weary to wave it about. I let it fall from my sticky hand, and my head hung back as I took a moment to gaze upon the heavens above. So far I had seen no trace of my father, or really any trace of any other man except for flattened patches in the grass and leaves where the bodies of the deceased must have been dragged from the woods. There were places at the thicket's edge that had been disheveled greatly by cannon balls, and many trees were damaged by the heavy artillery as was the ground, but there was no sign of Daddy. What else could I do?

Dear God, what am I to tell Mother?

I began to walk again with weary steps. I supposed that I would pace until I could either no longer walk or had reached the point at which I had started, as unlikely as that was, and then I would have to return home. I veered off into the woods a little farther, electing to allow the shade of the trees to protect my skin. As I dragged myself on, I saw a ragged stump among some dense brush not too far ahead of me where a dead tree must have fallen many moons ago, and in my tired delirium I thought that it resembled a chair. My feet ached and my knees wobbled, my body boring so heavily upon them, and so I thought that it wouldn't bring any harm if I sat down on the old thing for a few moments and rested.

I eased myself down upon the improvised furniture, being careful to avoid catching my skirts on any jagged places. I lifted my feet a little off the ground as I sat, and the poor things throbbed at the relief of finally bearing no weight. I let out a little reposeful sigh as I wiggled my toes within my slippers.

Crack! Crack!

The noise was so unexpected that I nearly jumped out of my skin and would have jumped off of the stump, too, had there been anything of it left. The heft of my body must have been too great a burden for the decaying wood, for the rotten stump lay crumbled beneath me. I must have looked foolish as I sat there on the ground, my legs sprawled before me and such a surprised look smeared upon my face.

Perhaps I haven't grown as thin as I thought . . .

Before I could ponder any longer upon frivolous things so as to ignore more somber thoughts, there was a slight rustle in the nearby brush. I rose to my feet in a flash, patting away debris from my skirt. While I was startled at first, I came to the conclusion that I must have frightened some small creature with my ungraceful fall. My curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself tiptoeing toward the undergrowth to spy upon whatever I had startled. At least I now had some sort of excuse to take a recess from my depressing and fruitless search.

The bushes rustled again, this time with greater vigor. The frightened animal must not have been so small after all. As I took another step, I heard a faint, hollow thud as my foot came down upon something that wasn't the earth. Beneath my slipper was a damaged canteen. After removing my gloves and hanging them on a nearby tree branch, I picked up the novel object and studied it, finding it to be empty and dirtied with mud or something of the like smeared across its front. I also noticed knapsack turned inside out and made filthy with grease stains and ants crawling all over it nearby. The brush suddenly shook with a great clamor, this force being a much greater one than what a rabbit or fox could conjure. I took several steps back as I clutched the canteen. The leaves rustled beneath the unknown entity's apparent flailing upon the ground, and my throat tightened as fright overtook me. I thought I ought to run, but I was too stunned to move.