Chapter 8. Visitor

From the shade of the Sacred Oak, Uncle Possim and Zebos emerged. Zebos saw Nisreen, for a moment their eyes locked. His silver eyes were so like Vince’s, deep and mesmerizing. She recalled the first time she had locked eyes with Vince. Late last Spring, he and his brother Loth had been traveling along the trail by her house. She had slunk into the shadow of the oak, her eyes hungry for the sight of Vince. He was larger than Loth and his gait was more graceful. She recalled how his nose had wrinkled. He had scented her. His face turned toward her and he had smiled. It was a kind luxurious smile that wrapped around her. Wide eyed she had returned his smile and he had waved. Inside her chest her heart had thumped hard. It was then that he had become her beloved. What would he have thought, if he knew? Would he have been repulsed? Regardless, her love for him had drawn her out, and given her courage later to speak to him.

Uncle Possim and Zebos made their way to where Malik and Nisreen stood. Zebos had his hand on Uncle Possim’s elbow, helping him over the uneven patches. When they reached the stream. Uncle Possim introduced, Malik and Nisreen.

Zebos said, “Ah, Nisreen, it is good to meet you. My son counted you among his friends.”

He did? Knowing this was like salve on a dried scab. Something brittle and painful softened. It helped to know that their relationship had not been entirely in her imagination. She needed to say something in return. “And I counted him among mine.”

Zebos nodded and said to her and Malik, “It was nice meeting you both.”

In unison, Malik and Nisreen said, “You too, Sir.”

Uncle Possim took a packet from his apothecary bag and handed it to Zebos. He said, “A spoon full of this mixture with warm water, will help Rosa sleep. You might take a dose yourself.

“Thank you, Friend.” With a bow, Zebos took his leave. He spun on his heel and headed back down the trail.

Nisreen watched him disappear among the trees. She asked, “How long have you been friends with Zebos?”

“Since we were young males.”

That long? Nisreen had no idea.

There was a rumble in the distance. Thunder. Uncle Possim looked up at the sky and said, “It’s a comin’! We best get home.” A flash of lightning lit the sky. The air grew heavy with the scent of rain. Malik scooped up Uncle Possim carried him to the wagon. He grabbed the handle and said, “Hold on Uncle. Your chariot is about to fly.” Malik took off running. The sky broke and hard raindrops hit Nisreen’s body and blurred her vision. Uncle Possim gripped the wagon sides with both hands. His body leaned low and he was chuckling. Malik’s pace was swift. Nisreen had a hard time keeping up with him. By the time they reached the garden shed, her lungs were burning and so where he legs. Malik pulled Uncle Possim and his chariot inside. There was a bright flash of lightning.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Still seated in his wagon Uncle Possim looked up at them. Soaked though he was, his eyes were bright. He smiled and said, “That was the most fun I have had in a decade! Delightful!”

*

Through the broken kitchen window the stars shown done. The air was fresh from the recent rain. The entire house was sleeping, except for Nisreen. Initially, she had fallen into dreamless sleep, but something had pulled her awake. The moon was beginning to rise. She went to the window and looked out. The sky was so clear and so lovely. The breeze was cold and fresh. She leaned her head on her hand and studied the stars. Uncle Possim believed their fates were written in the stars. Uncle Possim was a romantic. Nisreen was not.

On her perch, by the window their little messenger bird, Cadence slept. Her feather’s were puffed out for warmth. What did little children of the sky dream about?

Nisreen’s stomach grumbled. It had been a week and three days since Old Shelia’s ritual. Vince’s tribe required two weeks of fasting during mourning. For those, like her kind, who depended upon the remains of the tribe’s kills, they were forced into a sort of fast too. Yes, Nisreen and her family got to eat bone soup, but it wasn’t strengthening like the meat their bodies needed to produce the carrion diluting juices in their systems.

There was a flutter of feathers in the darkness. The Old Owl must be hunting. And hunting meant killing and killing meant some mouse, or other tiny creature wouldn’t make it to the dawn. It also meant that the owl would eat to live another week. This was the paradox of the living.

From her perch, Cadence let out a frightened trill.

A silhouette framed by moonlight appeared in the window. Large crane feathers stuck out in all directions. Between the hearth fire and the moonlight, Nisreen could just make out the features but she didn’t recognize this creature who wore them. She sniffed the air. The scent was familiar. Atticus. She took a step back. Since she no longer blocked the light of the hearth, she saw his blood smeared face. In his hands was a large trout. He tossed it through the window and onto the kitchen counter He had just made a kill. The smell of Life’s blood filled the kitchen. To eat, oh to eat!

With a smirk Atticus whispered, “I thought you might be hungry.” His glazed eyes raked over her body. A slow smile spread across his face. He leaned closer and said, “Your have nothing to fear from me.”

Behind her, Malik hissed, “You have everything to fear from me.”

Atticus turned toward Malik. The feathers danced on his head. In a low voice he replied, “You can’t kill me, you kind isn’t strong enough to kill anything. All you can do is hit me with your little sling shot.” With a sneer he launched himself into the sky.

When Vince had told Nisreen, she had nothing to fear from him, she believed him, she didn’t believe Atticus. He was a twisted and despicable creature. The smell of the fish and blood, still filled the kitchen but Nisreen had lost her appetite. Her body began to tremble as she recalled the way Atticus had looked at her, the way his eyes had traveled across her her body. He was hunting her. Why? And why had he adorned himself in crane feathers? That was just weird. Had he taken down a crane too? Her eyes traveled to the fish on the counter. It was fresh.

Malik came and stood beside her. He asked, “Are you okay?”

“No.” With a series of low grunts she asked, “ How can I be? I am prey to that beast.”

Granny came into the kitchen and sniffed the air. Papa entered and did the same. His body tensed and he hissed one word, “Atticus.”

Malik replied, “Yes.”

Sister who slept like the dead, woke up and asked, “Is something going on?”

“Yes,” Papa said. “Atticus just paid us a visit. Girls, gather your things and go with Granny.”