Authors: Emily Williams
Boar soon became an often eaten meat. They grew more and more skilled at capturing the creatures, and the cooks put some away to cure, making certain dishes that captured the meat‘s wild taste just right. The rabbits that they caught were delicious in stews, and, all in all, everything was going much better than Faith had thought it would. They regularly caught more meat than was needed, and she had never even considered that they would be able to work together so efficiently to get the job done.
Her thoughts reflected this as she walked back to the village one evening; everyone was talking merrily, a large boar carried by two of the girls and four rabbits in the arms of others.
The mood was bright as they made their way through the thinning trees, shadows stretching into the distance; Faith noticed that even Sibyl was laughing with Isabel, who seemed to be re-enacting her latest accident with quite some drama.
Faith had been attempting to clear the conversation she and Sibyl had had from her mind ever since their conversation. Even though she couldn’t imagine such an event ever taking place, she still found that her thoughts became panicked and paranoid whenever she found them turning towards what Sibyl had said. Sibyl’s conviction that she would never see her fiancé again was the thing that had unsettled her the most; Faith had decided to try and think positive, but Sibyl’s grave face as she had explained her thoughts still haunted her late at night. Endeavoring to rid her mind of the unpleasant ideas, Faith looked around at the rest of the group.
They were nearing the village now, and the trees had become so sparse that the autumn leaves beneath their feet were just a thin layer, not nearly enough to kick up in the air as they walked. Faith had always liked the wintry seasons; there was something rather dramatic about the leaf stripped trees against the sky, and the variety of colors that spread across the floor always reminded her of a warm patchwork blanket.
As they reached the village, the quiet that met their babbling chatter made Faith suddenly stop appreciating nature, and look up, alarmed. Unlike usual, none of the younger children had run out eagerly, desperate to know what the hunters had brought back for dinner, and this worried her.
The chatter had died down, as everyone looked at one another, puzzled. Faith ’s thoughts flew to the squatters, and her hand darted towards her spear automatically. Sibyl had gone very white.
Faith held up her hand, using the signals they had grown used to using during their hunts, and motioned the girls to surround the village, walking towards the middle when she indicated.
As quiet as the wind whispering through the long grass, the hunters moved in. Nobody was in the houses on the outskirts of the village- it was like walking into a ghost town. Everybody jumped at the slightest noise, even if it was just Isabel tripping over her own feet. They reached the houses surrounding the center of the village, and Faith gestured for everyone to move in, holding out their weapons, using the boar as a shield if need be.
As one, they sprang around the last few houses… and dropped their weapons and rabbits in surprise. Every member of the village was huddled around the well right in the middle, not speaking. Hearing the hunters, they turned round to look, and waved them over.
Feeling rather stupid, Faith walked over, stopping only to pick up a rabbit and her spear. The crowds of villagers parted to reveal a boy about her age sat on a stool, eating bread and cheese as if he’d never seen food before.
The hunters gasped as one, shrinking back as if they’d seen a monster sat on the well, rather than a spindly boy stuffing his face with food.
Faith looked at the boy in horror. He had to be a squatter- no village boy was so thin and ashen faced- but what was he doing on their well? Faith couldn’t help her suspicion; what if he was a spy? She trembled at the thought, and looked to her mother for an answer, but she was too busy cutting leftover meat into smaller chunks for him.
Her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, she noticed Sibyl step forward, pale and trembling.
“Who is this?” she asked, and Faith wondered whether she was thinking along the same lines as she was.
Nobody spoke, looking instead to the boy, who merely carried on eating calmly. When he had finished his mouthful, he looked up at Sibyl, looked back down again, and took another bite.
Faith was infuriated at his rudeness, and clenched her spear tightly.
“Well?” The question slipped out before she could help it, and this time, the boy looked up.
“Let him eat!” protested Margaret, who was one of the women watching him fondly.
“Can’t you see he’s hungry?”
“Is he a squatter?” asked Sibyl, her voice shaking as she fought to keep control of herself. She looked as if she was about to burst into tears.
“Yes, I am, though we don’t call ourselves that.” The boy had finally stopped eating, and spoke. He had a different accent to the villagers; he let his words bleed into each other rather than having a slight gap.
“Why are you here then?” Faith knew her tone was suspicious, but she couldn’t help herself. The very people she had been taught to loathe and fear were currently fighting her family, and one of them had dared to enter the village and eat the food they had worked so hard to catch? It didn’t make sense to her.
The boy met her eyes, a frown creasing his brow. “Because I am.”
Faith resisted the urge to throw one of the dead rabbits at him.
“Why aren’t you fighting with your people?” she asked, watching his gaze fall back on the food before him. As she spoke, however, his eyes flicked up to meet hers again, and he suddenly looked even paler. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for his answer.
With an almighty sigh, he heaved himself up, despite the women around him gasping, and trying to get him to sit back down again. Resisting them, he limped painfully toward Faith , one leg dragging behind him. With an almost triumphant look at her, he stood there in defiance, as if to say, ‘happy now?’
Faith felt awful. Whatever she had been trying to do, she certainly hadn’t wanted to humiliate him, and she now felt overwhelmingly guilty.
It hadn’t occurred to her that he might have had an injury; she thought painfully of how mortified she had been when her offer to fight had been rejected, and cringed when she realized that the squatter boy probably felt exactly the same as she had then. And judging by the look on his face, he hated her as much as she had hated the whole group of leaders.
Suitably ashamed of herself, Faith looked away from the boy, the tots and hissing from the women who surrounded her stinging like salt in fresh wounds.
“Er, I’m sorry,” Faith murmured. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
The boy jerked his head noncommittally, and Faith wasn’t quite sure if her apology had been accepted or not. However, the tense atmosphere lifted somewhat, and he hoisted himself onto the wall, looked into his lap, and began to talk.
“My name is Eli,” he said quietly. “I injured my leg as a child, and it’s never healed. I wasn’t ever allowed to learn swordplay with the other boys, and I was always left alone.” His voice grew stronger as everyone listened, in silence. “When they decided to fight the mountain goats and all the men went off to train under our new commander, I was left behind.”
“The mountain goats?” inquired Sibyl, confused.
“Oh.” Eli looked up from his lap, where he had been twisting his fingers together. “That’s what we’ve always known your lot as.” At Sibyl’s look of outrage, he smirked. “It’s all very well for you to act like that’s an insult, but I’d hardly call the term ‘squatters’ much better.”
Sibyl blushed.
“Anyway. I tried to follow the army, as they went off to train, but I think I must have taken a wrong turn, because I… I ended up in trees at the bottom of the mountain.” As he spoke this last bit, he dropped his eyes abruptly. Faith wondered if he was telling them the whole truth.
She caught Martha’s eye, and they exchanged a significant look. It appeared she was not the only one who had noticed that.
“I stumbled around- I got completely lost- and eventually ended up here. I’m sorry to intrude on you, but I wasn’t thinking straight; I was so hungry.”
The women fussed over him at this, shooing the girls away as they found some clothes for him, and a place he could rest.
The girls congregated outside Martha’s house, all considerably surprised.
“Why did all of our mothers love him so much?” Daisy asked, puzzled.
This sparked great discussion, until Sibyl spoke up, quiet as ever.
“I think he reminded them of their sons. They haven’t seen them in a long time; it’s their motherly instinct, I suppose.”
Faith saw the other girls nodding as they processed this information, and Sibyl’s idea sparked further debate. Faith was lost in her thoughts when Martha tapped her on the arm.
“Eli’s story sounds very similar to yours,” she said thoughtfully. “There’re quite a few parallels really.”
Faith hadn’t really thought about it like that, and she chewed her lip as she mulled it over. Perhaps there were a few similarities- but Eli had an injury which prevented his acceptance into the army, whereas the only thing stopping her was her gender. No, she decided, there really weren’t many similarities at all.
She shrugged towards Martha, who gave her a one armed hug. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Eli won’t kill us all off in our sleep,” she said cheerfully, and Faith couldn’t help but smile at that
The air was crisp with cold as Faith and the hunters made their way slowly through the woods, the icy undergrowth crunching beneath their feet. Autumn had slipped dreamily into winter, and the difference in temperature had become much more noticeable than usual to the girls. As they gripped their spears and knives tightly, their breath billowing out before them in the freezing air, some of them were shivering; others were rubbing their arms in an attempt to get some life back into them.
Catching the animals had become, in a sense, easier in this weather. The girls had grown deft at catching the rabbits whatever the conditions, and as the boar grew desperate for food, they were more likely to come over to the bait that they had put out for them. However, the bitter cold weather meant that they were usually traipsing back to the village much earlier than they had been in the summer.
Faith was chatting lightly with Martha as they neared the
center of the woods. The frosty leaves were stiffly scattered across the floor; the mushrooms that Isabel had collected were almost too chilly to touch. Spreading them across the floor, the girls got into the familiar positions, clinging carefully onto their branches or crouched behind the particular tree trunk they were used to hiding behind.
Thankfully, despite the large amount of boar they had caught in the previous few weeks and months, they had had very few injuries. Despite a boar escaping once, it had been spooked enough by the sudden appearance of a great deal of girls, and had run away as fast as it could. Though occasionally blood was drawn as the boar’s tusks caught their skin, it had never been serious enough to account for more than a clean bandage.
It wasn’t long before another boar thundered through the woods towards them, the loud crunching of the leaves letting everyone know that it was coming. It emerged into the clearing, and, as the boar always did, went straight for the mushrooms. With Faith ’s signals, the girls sprang into action, neatly capturing the boar, while still keeping away from the tusks.
It all went without incident, and Faith barely had to do anything as Sibyl strode over to cut its throat. Moving away from the boar, some of the girls stood up to make way, and Sibyl edged closer, her fingers gripping the dagger. The boar went completely still, frozen in anticipation of her next move. Then, abruptly, it charged.
Faith sprang into action, leaping forwards and seizing Sibyl by the waist, the momentum of her tackle propelling them both into the frosty undergrowth. The girls’ numb fingers had prevented them from holding onto the net tightly enough, and the boar was now tearing away through the forest, the net still dragging behind it.
Panicking about the loss of their net, Faith picked herself up from the pile of leaves, grabbed her spear, and raced after it, Martha and Sibyl hot on her heels.
Sprinting through the forest was hard work; soon her breath was coming in short gasps, her chest aching from the cold air shooting through her lungs. Her heartbeat throbbed in her temples and chest, her legs felt weak.
Martha had stopped, bent over with her hands on her knees as she panted.
“Leave… it!” she called. “We… we won’t… catch it… now!”
“I can’t!” Faith yelled, not daring to look back again, in case she lost sight of the boar. Sibyl had evidently stopped too, and she was alone as she ran through the trees, chasing the sound of the boar.
The woods were thinning now; she didn’t have to dodge quite so many times as she raced on after the loud noise. She was getting closer to the edge of the forest now… in fact she had reached it, and the boar was crashing onwards, leaping onto the rock face she knew so well.
She could still remember the howling wind, that day when she had clambered over onto the most dangerous spots. Now they were on the other side of the face, which looked unfamiliar from this angle. The boar leapt across the rocks, the net nearly catching on several spiky points. Faith hesitated for a moment, then leapt after it, balancing carefully as she made her way across.
What would Martha say? Faith thought ruefully as the nauseous feeling she remembered from her previous trip to the rocks overwhelmed her. The boar turned, and darted away, slipping suddenly and tumbling over the edge with one last squeal. As it fell, the net caught on a sharp bit of rock, and the boar ripped its way through the remaining piece of material. Faith couldn’t believe her luck, though she did feel awfully sorry for the now dead boar.
She climbed down to reach it, moving with cautions, and picked up the net with a sigh, as she saw the rips and tears. She folded it and turned to go… but lost her balance, and slipped backwards towards the rock face. Fear enveloping her, she screamed as she fell.
With a loud thump, she landed on what felt like moss and lay there for a few moments, unable to quite believe that she was still alive.
Slowly, she got to her feet, and looked around. The rock face was still surrounding her, but she had fallen through what appeared to be some dangling ivy, and landed in a hidden cave.
Her legs felt wobbly from fear, as she looked round, surveying the premises. The cave was small, but light, thanks to the fragments of sunshine slipping through the ivy hanging at the entrance, and seemed to go on for a short way to the left. It was entirely empty, and smelt somewhat of mold and damp. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she stepped carefully round towards the left, noticing that it had grown a great deal darker. Her heart beating, she carried on, surprised at how long this natural tunnel went on for. It reminded her of a rabbit warren- narrow, dark and narrow. She carried on forwards, still clutching her net and spear in her hands.
She didn’t know how long she walked for, but it was a substantial amount of time, and her legs began complaining, threatening to buckle under her weight. It had grown lighter in front of her, and she wondered, somewhat dazedly, if this tunnel had gone on all the way through the mountain.
Cold fresh air suddenly swept over her, sweeter than any air she had ever experienced. She stepped out into the light, and gasped.
She was standing on a small almost platform, overlooking the squatter lands, far below. The land above her was overhanging where she stood- she knew it wouldn’t be visible to anyone standing above. Looking out, she saw the trees beneath her that hid the squatter villages from sight, and a steep drop let her know that she was treading on highly precarious grounds.
Biting her lip, she trod forward warily, and almost tripped over something on the floor. Another small gasp escaping her lips, she recognized what was half buried in the ground… it was a sword.
Stooping, she looked properly at it. It was slim and dull grey, the handle exquisitely carved, but spotted with flecks of rust.
Faith grabbed the hilt, wrenching it out of the ground, and stared in amazement as it fitted neatly into her palm. It seemed to grow warm and vibrate beneath her fingers with a strange sort of energy- though perhaps that was merely her imagination. Holding it out, it caught the weak light of the wintry sun and shone brightly.
Turning it over in her hand, she waved it experimentally, rays of sunlight winking from the metal surface. It gave her a feeling of power; she felt as if she had some sort of special abilities that had not previously been there before. She felt stronger, more confident- almost as if she was a few feet taller. She liked it.
Faith couldn’t take her eyes off of the sword. It was mesmerizing, captivating; she felt as if she could keep it by her side forever. Questions tumbled through her mind- where had the sword come from? Who had put it there? What should she do with it?
“Well, I can’t leave it,” she murmured to herself, as she examined the hilt more closely.
“No. You can’t,” said a voice from behind her.
Faith span round, dropping the sword guiltily, like a child caught red handed.
Eli had appeared from inside the cave, his face strained as he limped slowly towards her. Recovering from her surprise, Faith went to pick up the sword, glaring at the intruder. Eli had developed a habit of looming out of various places when he was least expected, asking questions and watching people, watching with his dark, often slightly narrowed eyes. Faith could not help but distrust him.
“How did you get here?” she growled, not looking at his smug expression.
“Walked.” His tone rang with triumph; Faith got the impression that he was highly pleased with himself.
“Why did you walk?” Faith had to use quite some effort to keep her voice calm.
“Because I wondered where you were going.” Faith looked up curiously at that, and saw that his eyes, too, were drawn to the sword.
“How did you know where I was going?”
“Because I saw you chasing that boar,” he replied. “And I saw you go into the cave, so I climbed down and followed. Finished your interrogation yet?”
“Hmph,” said Faith .
An awkward silence fell between them, as they both looked at the sword, entranced. Risking a look at her companion’s face, Faith glanced at him. He looked awestruck.
“I can’t believe you’ve found it,” he murmured, almost dreamily. Faith frowned, wondering what on earth he meant. Noticing her silence, he looked up abruptly, and his eyebrows slid up in surprise. “D’you mean you have no idea what this is?”
Faith couldn’t bring herself to shake her head; Eli was clearly just making up nonsense to irritate her. Yet still, it was definitely irritating her, and she hated the feeling that she was missing a very obvious point.
Eli laughed, a mocking laugh that stung Faith deeply. “Are you serious?! You don’t even know what you’ve just stumbled across? You mountain goats really are as stupid as they say, aren’t you?”
Faith ’s clenched her fists tightly, resisting the urge to punch Eli so hard that he fell off the mountain. Eli turned, dragging his leg behind him, and walked into the cave, his laugh echoing off of the walls.
“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” Faith shouted after him, enraged beyond belief. Gripping the sword, the net and her spear, she stormed after him, wanting nothing more than to trap the squatter boy in her net, and poke him with her spear until he explained himself. Eli merely answered with another ringing laugh, only serving to increase Faith ’s fury. She knew one thing though. She would find out what he meant, if it was the last thing she did.