Nothing remains the same

Ethel knew much of the cruelty of men and beasts, after seeing her father coming home bleeding and with broken bones over the years, and she had on more occasions than one helped the healers take care of both him and other people, including the elf named Seregrian at one point - now a Forever-Friend to her, by ancient elven ritual. But never had she known such evil in her home, on her own doorstep, in her very own room. The wicked nature of a hillman and his hound laid bare before her that night, the one who had falsely laid claim on Yllfa’s ancestral farm upon which they had made their dwelling in the past weeks. No child should ever have to fear for her life in her own home. Yet life is cruel and unpredictable, and men even more so. Blackened, hate-filled hearts care nothing for the lives of other men, women or children - all they seek is for their own wellbeing and pleasure, be it gold and silver, or fine horses and jewel-adorned swords. Ethel scratched at her thin and pale arm, now wrapped in bloodied linen and smeared with salves to soothe the pain and help the healing. Yes, the pain of a hound’s teeth embedded in her flesh was still throbbing, aching and spreading, but she could still use the arm if she was careful not to strain it too much. The girl had picked up her bow the day after, and she did her best to block out the pain by carefully practicing her aim, shooting the same target over and over again. Archery was the very thing she knew she was good at, and that which had failed her so miserably when she needed it the most. Had she only done her part right, things would’ve been different. She had nocked countless arrows, drawing the bowstring just as many times and releasing her arrows, and still struggling to control her shaking hands in the matter of life and death. She had kept going, arrow after arrow, despite the aching in her arm. She wouldn’t fail another time. Not again.

It was mere luck that the wound wasn’t deeper or the bones didn’t break under the strong bite, or perhaps it was more thanks to the motherly She-wolf who had sunk her own teeth into the hound as it raged upon her cub; the blade of a kitchen knife thrusted deeply into the hound’s sinewy neck, which swiftly released its grip on the girl, and fell down in dying spasms to the floor. The girl was not used to pain of this kind. A scraped knee, a broken finger, a sprained ankle - those pains a child would know when growing up, and that is only natural as they play and explore the world, to find their limits of what they can and cannot do. But this kind of searing pain of dog’s teeth deep into the flesh… is that what her father experienced time and time again, when he was riding with the Elfwards or with lord Tiubar? Was it this kind of scorching, burning, searing feeling echoing throughout his flesh whenever he had taken a blade or blunt object to his body? What did he feel when the man’s knife sliced its way into his shoulder and spread the numbing poison throughout his veins, before he managed to drive the bad man away with a well-aimed spear to his side?

Ethel’s head was filled with these thoughts and of what had transpired just days before, and the girl glanced around her by the small campfire they had set up moments ago. They had already found what they came for; a deer’s flesh to feast upon, to keep their lives as normal as possible even in the midst of the looming threat of pain, tragedy and death that had abruptly awakened them and left their whole family in disarray and fear. The girl herself had done her part this night and her arrow had been swift, though not as deadly as she had hoped. Waelden had then given her a knife to finish the job, and even though reluctantly, she did as instructed. She knew not to keep a wounded animal suffer needlessly for too long. They had also been fishing without catching anything besides small minnows and river grass, which had led to some merry moments of memory from her youth, and the ever teasing of Waelden’s constant bad luck with fishing, which she remembered fondly. The years had passed since then and she wasn’t a little girl anymore, she kept telling herself - but she was not ready for the trials of womanhood and adult life either. She had felt trapped between the two worlds even before, and now forcefully thrown into the next from the comfortable life she used to have. Nothing would ever be the same again, and the coming scars on her arm would be a constant reminder that not even home is a place of safety.

The forest around them was quiet, she thought - way too quiet. No birds or crickets were singing here. The silence frightened her more than the howling of wolves, but she didn’t want her papa to know. She spoke instead, quietly as it was, to not break the silence too much. “Papa?”, she said to Waelden, as he was collecting up the rest of the rope he had brought for their prey.
- “When you were riding out in battle… were you ever scared?” Waelden sighed deeply at the question, for he had heard it before when she was young, and he would give a similar answer now as he did then.
- “Yes, I was, and I still am. Every single time. I’m scared of not coming home again, to never see a fire sparkling with a warm welcome, or to never see you growing up.” He continued working with the rope, though now it was mostly fiddling to try and keep himself occupied. Ethel looked away but at the same time moved closer towards him. She missed the days of yore when she was but three apples high, as Waelden himself would say it, and where no troubles in the world could shake her beliefs about what life should be like - play and fun, comfort, good food, and friends all around. She had lost her mother since then, and now she was in the middle of a dark forest with her papa, nearly grown up in body and seeing her first signs of womanhood, but still a child inside. The girl crept closer still, until she was close enough to lean towards him. She hid her hands inside the arms of the tunic, for the air was cold and damp, and mist had already started to form over the fields.
- “I’m sorry I missed.” she whispered quietly and cuddled in even closer yet.
- “Don’t be, my girl. We’re still alive. Nothing could’ve prepared us for that. You did everything you could, and you did it right. You wounded the hound, and that might just have been enough to save all our lives in the end.” Waelden put his arm around the girl and held her close. She was nearly shivering now, though if it be from the cold or the recent experiences, he could not say. He continued talking as she grew quiet.
- “Evil men like him are what I’ve been fighting all my life. What we are all fighting for, to make our home and our lands safe. And still… sometimes that just isn’t enough. But it was this time, Ethel. He’s gone now, and his foul hound lies dead. You will have to bear a few scars from it, as do I, but we’re still alive. Until my last breath I would see you safe, Ethel. Not a minute goes by now, when I’m not thinking of what I should’ve done, what could’ve happened, what I’d do if that cursed dog had gone for a more tender place than your arm, or the man had done something worse. But there is no point in thinking of that. We do what we can, when we must. But we need to prepare ourselves better. I will teach you of the many ways to keep yourself safe, as well as others.”
Waelden fell silent as he took a bite off the bread, and he offered the rest to the girl, who did not take it. Ethel shivered still and lifted her head to look at her papa. The tall, strong and confident man she had known all her life, her very comfort and family, now seemed so unsure of his words, that it might as well have been lies to her ears. Maybe he was still scared, just like her, she wondered. Her papa had always been there and set things right for her. He’d do so again, she thought.
- “What about Wynn?” she asked and cuddled in beneath her cloak as the last embers of the fire turned to gray ash.
- “She’ll come back, or we’ll find her.” Waelden nodded as reassuringly as he could to the girl, but he knew his words fell on young, scared and unsure ears, and his tongue were just as scared to utter them, knowing it may never come true. He did not know what would happen next. Noone did. But for now it was time to head home, where it all had happened. Home... the place that wasn’t as safe as they had been led to believe.