Chapter 4 - Famine

“I’m sorry Luna, I don’t have a fish for you today, but I brought this. It’s a little bit of meat from a squirrel we caught.”

I give the cat the morsel. It’s just a tiny scrap, smaller than my pinky finger. My stomach is cramping from hunger, and I want to eat it so bad, but I can’t forget about my friend.

“Thank you Ayla.” Luna bows her head to me, accepting the meat with gratitude. She chews it slowly, savoring every bit.

“There are less animals in the forest than there are supposed to be. We’re having trouble catching enough food for everyone. Do you know anything about that? I thought you might, considering you’re an animal too.”

“Follow me.” Lona finishes her meat, and walks away.

She leads me deep into the southern forest, far from our village. Here, there is an unpleasant stench in the air, like a dank cellar full of mold.

“This tree was a sapling when your village was founded. It was planted by a friend of mine. Look at it now.”

“It’s huge.”

The tree towers up into the sky, twice as high as all the others.

“Look at its roots.”

The base of the tree is surrounded by dry brambles. They would no doubt produce plenty of blackberries during the spring. I’d have to remember this place. After carefully wading through the thorny bushes, I reach the tree.

“Mushrooms?”

The roots of the tree are covered in a slimy grey fungus. Thin stalks come out of it, with many beady black heads.

“Best not to get too close. The spores are toxic,” Luna says.

“Is the tree sick?”

“Yes, and not just this one. The very land has been cursed. The underlying rot stretches farther than the horizon.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Many animals will die, poisoned by the spores. The plants will cease to grow as they should. However, your village, and its immediate surroundings, are protected.”

“By the guardian deity?” I ask.

Luna’s tail flicks.

“Thank you for showing me.”

“You should stop feeding me, Ayla. If you wish to survive, you will need to conserve every bit of nourishment that you can. The coming crisis will extend beyond just one winter.”

“But you must be hungry too.”

“Ayla, please. I have grown attached to you. I do not want you to die.”

I gulp. “Okay, I won’t feed you anymore.”

I stare at the fungus in the tree roots. A shiver goes down my spine. I head back out of the bramble patch, not wanting to remain too close to the toxic rot for long.

“Would we be better off leaving the village? We could try to all go to another city,” I say.

“If you attempt such a journey, the rot will poison you, just as it has the deer and wild boars.”

“Is our village really such a special place?”

“Not particularly. You should not rely on the protection of forces you do not understand.”

“Would the guardian deity ever abandon us?”

“Perhaps.”

“How can we stop the rot?”

“Magic, powerful enough to counteract the curse.”

“Could Pastor Blackwood do it?”

“It’s impossible for him. Perhaps once, his potential was notable. Not anymore.”

“He could teach me!”

“He surely could teach you something, but not what you need to learn.”

“Hold on. You seem to know a lot about this. Do you know magic, Luna?”

“Of course.”

“Oh! Then you can teach me!”

“No.”

“Come on, how else am I supposed to learn?”

“There is magic in every dewdrop and every moonbeam. You must simply watch and listen. That is how the first and greatest of mages attained their runes. Magic learned from another is inevitably tainted by the teacher’s impressions and inclinations. Over generations, the taint accumulates, and the truth fades.”

“Watch and listen?”

“Perhaps I ask too much of you.” Luna flicks her tail. “You may need help after all.”

“No! I can do it!” I crouch down and stare at a leaf.

It’s a leaf.

“Foolish child. Go help your village find food, instead of staring at rotting leaves.”

“But you told me to!”

“You need not turn your head toward the ground for there to be things in front of your eyes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Until later, my foolish child.”

I return to my village. Everyone is working hard, looking for animals to hunt and plants to eat. The nearby river still has some fish, but Mr. Fisher’s nets all burned up in the fire, so we’re making new ones from the rope we found.

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“Ayla! Where were you?” Mom says, running to me.

“I went to see Luna.”

“You didn’t feed her did you?”

“I did, just a little bit of that squirrel meat you gave me—”

“Ayla.”

“—but she said that I shouldn’t feed her anymore, that I need to eat as much as I can.”

“Then she’s a very wise kitty.”

“She is! She showed me a tree with rotting roots. The land outside our village is poisoned.”

Mom’s eyes widen. “Can you show me?”

“Yes, we should bring Pastor Blackwood.”

Mom fetches the pastor, and I lead them through the woods to the big tree Luna showed me.

“You say she followed a stray cat here?” The pastor asks.

“She’s been feeding it, even now,” Mom complains.

“I promised I’d stop!” I say. “Anyway look, the tree is right here.”

We reach the clearing with the tree, and the old pastor’s eyes widen. “I know this place.”

“You do?”

“It’s the site of one of our ancestral graves. A hero lies here. He protected the village from a terrible beast, at the cost of his life.”

“The roots are rotting,” I say.

The pastor steps through the brambles to examine the fungus. He coughs. “This is bad.”

“Can you stop the rot from getting close to our village? With your magic?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t even know how to start,” he says.

“Can you teach me how to do magic? Maybe I can figure out how to protect us.”

“Magic requires immense focus and discipline. I don’t think you’re ready.”

I pout. If nobody can stop the rot, how are we supposed to survive? If Luna is right about the guardian deity abandoning us, then we can’t just hope and pray. That won’t be good enough.

In the end, Pastor Blackwood’s solution is a prayer to the guardian deity. I can’t bring myself to tell him that our god might abandon us. It’s just too sad.

When we return to our village, Mrs. Miller caught another squirrel. We cook it and share it, everyone getting one small scrap.

“Here, eat mine Ayla,” Mom says, handing me her piece.

“What? But you need to eat too.”

“Mommy will be fine.”

“Okay,” I say.

My stomach is happy to get a double portion. It’s still so little though.

The days pass by. We manage to catch some fish, but we get sick when we eat them. Everyone vomits and has horrible stomach cramps all night long. The pastor says the fish are all sick, infected by the same fungus as the tree. The spores must be in the water.

At least the water from our well is still okay. The pastor checks it every day to make sure that it is not contaminated.

There are fewer squirrels every day. Some days I don’t get to eat anything at all. I’m so hungry. My stomach aches every time I breathe. My arms and legs are skinner than they used to be.

At night, we all huddle together in the church for warmth. It’s starting to get cold out. Winter is coming earlier than expected. Mrs. Miller thinks we’re all going to die.

Mom gives me her portion every time we ration food. She is looking really sick, and she always lies to me and says she is okay.

I keep trying to convince her to eat as much as me, but she always says she isn’t hungry.

One night, while everyone is sleeping, I hold onto her and cry. Something is definitely wrong with her. She smells off, and she’s becoming so frail. I think she’s dying.

“What’s the matter sweetie?” She asks me in a whisper.

“You’re not eating anything,” I whisper back, my tears dripping onto her neck.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry.”

“It’s not okay.”

Mom hesitates. She cringes a little underneath me. Then she smiles, and rubs my back.

“You wanna hear a secret?” She asks.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Mommy is pregnant.”

“What?” I sit up. “Then you have to eat more, not less.”

“No sweetie. If I give you all my food, that horrible man’s baby will die, and you get to eat extra. Everything is perfect this way.”

I can’t breathe. “But then you’ll starve too.”

She just smiles.

“You have to eat. I won’t let you give me your food anymore. I won’t.”

I hug her. She grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. We stay that way until morning.

After that, Mom starts eating again, just a little. She still gives me more though.

It’s around the time of the first snow that the first of us starves to death. It’s Paula, the girl who used to sell rope and sacks at the market. Mrs. Miller suggests eating her body, but I tell her that’s horrible, and I insist we have to do a proper funeral.

None of us have the strength to dig a hole, and we can’t waste firewood, so we decide to float Paula’s body down the river. We speak our prayers to the guardian deity.

That night, I see Mrs. Miller and her daughter sneaking out of town. Over the coming days, they somehow look a lot more healthy than the rest of us. I think they went down river to find Paula and eat her. They must still have her meat somewhere. I don’t even want to think about it.

I’m dying too, slowly. I don’t think I’ll survive the winter at this rate. Mom looks like a skeleton, but she somehow seems to always have enough strength to work and move. It’s like she’s staying alive through sheer willpower.

One day, I pass out while looking for root vegetables.

I wake up to an unbelievable smell. I think I might have died and went to heaven.

It’s just me and Mom. We’re in a familiar clearing in the forest, by the mossy boulder next to the pollarded willows, lit by the full moon. There is a pot resting on a campfire. It’s full of stew.

I sit up, my eyes wide. “So much food.”

“I had a good day hunting. It’s all for you,” Mom says.

“We have to share it with everyone.”

“No,” Mom says firmly. “Just this once, I want you eat as much as you want. Please Ayla.”

I want to protest, but I can’t. I’m so hungry. If I don’t eat this, I’ll die.

“I’ll save some for you,” I say.

“I already ate,” she says.

Mom hands me a bowl. It’s just water and boiled meat, but it tastes delicious. I’ve never had anything this good before in my life.

“Eat slowly. Your body might not be ready for this much food right now,” she says.

I try to eat slow. I eat a second bowl, and a third bowl, and then the stew is gone.

“I feel sick,” I say, clutching my stomach.

“You just ate too fast,” Mom says, rubbing my back. “You’ll be okay.”

I scream. Suddenly it’s like lightning is coursing through my veins. I look at the moon, and its light sears into my eyes, a thousand swirling patterns spinning in my head.

“Ayla! Ayla what’s happening? What’s wrong?”

It’s so painful. My ears and teeth, and my nails, they’re on fire. All I can do is scream.

Mom picks me up and runs me back to town. I’m writhing and screaming the whole way.

The moon is so bright. I can see Mom’s footsteps before they form in the dirt. I can smell the people of the village and the rot miles away. I can hear the trickling streams of the forest and the wind that blows the wispy clouds. My fingernails cut into my palms.

Mom brings me to Pastor Blackwood. He gasps.

“What did you feed her?!” He asks.

“I thought it was just a cat!” My mom says, sobbing.

Oh gods. It was Luna.

No. I ate her. How could I? She was my friend.

I want to vomit, but I can’t.

“No, no it couldn’t be,” the pastor says, running his hand over the top of my head, where my ears have somehow moved.

“Did I feed her a monster? Is she becoming a monster? Can you save her?”

“I can try.” The pastor draws his magic rune on me. It isn’t doing anything.

“Will she live?” Mom asks.

“I don’t know. Even if she does, she may not retain her humanity,” he says.

Mom gasps. She drops to her knees, sobbing. “I’m sorry Ayla, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

I scream. My insides are twisting around. My arms and legs hurt so bad. It’s like rope is squirming through my flesh. I thrash on the table and it breaks. Pastor Blackwood stumbles backward, his lip bloody from where my claws hit him.

“Ayla you have to stay strong. Listen to my voice Ayla,” Mom shouts, grabbing my hand.

I hold her hand. It’s cool, but also warm. My breathing slows. Mom wraps me in her arms.

“Don’t die Ayla, please don’t die.”

I have to hold on, for Mom, and for Luna. Otherwise their sacrifices will have meant nothing.

They love me. I cannot die now.

I close my eyes, looking away from the moonlight. If I kept staring, I’m certain that I would have become something else. But I am still a human being. I am, and always will be, Ayla Warden.

For a moment, I can almost hear Luna’s voice, teasing me one last time.

She knew. I’m sure she knew. She must have let Mom catch her. She chose this.

Why?

Is it because of that question I asked? Is this her answer? Her place in the cycle of life?

Or did she just not want me to die?

I don’t understand. I’ll never understand. All I can do is send her one last prayer.

Thank you.