Mama’s high pitched screams are immediately quelled by Papa. I begin to shake, realizing what I had just done. They may have acted like monsters but this soaking mass of flesh lying still next to me was once a living man. This blood on my face, dripping from my hair, painting my hands; this blood belongs inside three human bodies; this blood supported three lives. Sean said that I wasn’t human and he’s right. I can’t get any air. It won’t go in. Is it because I took their blood that I can’t have air? The only thing I can stand to see is the straw beneath my feet. Even that is tainted by the slowly growing pool of hot, red liquid leaving Jim.

A blast of cold air burns inside of me with a gasp. Through a veil of water blurring my vision Uncle stands above me with an empty bucket. I wipe the water from my face as Papa covers me with a blanket and holds onto me from the side. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he puts my hands down and wipes my face with a rag. His words pull the tears from my bleary eyes. It’s over, I have nothing else to do with it. My breath staggers again and I get scared of suffocation. “It’s gonna be alright, Feline, you’re safe. Everyone is safe, you protected them.” Papa dips the rag into a full bucket of water. He pulls out my hands and I see that the blood is still wet. My hands shake again but he takes them in his to wash them for me. I notice his warmth and my breathing steadies. Since I’m calming down I notice the thick smell surrounding us, like we killed every pig we owned.

“Papa,” I can’t control my voice, “what happened?”

“You protected your sisters and cousins, just like we told you to.”

“Not that,” I clarify, “after Mama stopped screaming.”

“So you heard that,” he finishes cleaning my hands and rinses the rag out to wipe my hair. “She was just surprised; she took the others to the house with your aunt. Your Uncle’s dealing with the other two soldiers. The boys are waiting for us outside the barn. Do you think you can stand?” I lean to the side and pick myself up. Nothing hurts much but my muscles are tense. I remember how much strength I used to cause this strange soreness. The images that come to mind make my face contort with more tears. I don't want to be a monster. Papa keeps his arm around me even though he knows that if I were to fall he’d be injured.

“Is Uncle going to -”

“Don’t worry about that. You leave everything to us and forget this ever happened.” The last few words were more like an order than an attempt to comfort. I keep my head down while he leads me out of the barn. The light of dawn gives me no warmth due to the silence surrounding the boys. Even when the seven of us gather through the wet, early spring grass the only indicator of the five of them is the swish of their feet. I’m too afraid to look for their expressions and keep my eyes to the ground. Over the last twelve years they were all gentle leaders; now they feel like persecutors glaring at me from the background. It’s probably all in my head. Sean was only joking last night, I’m not a monster. Even humans must do terrible things to protect their loved ones, right?

“Feline.”

Mama’s urgent voice calls me out from my thoughts. She looks so tired. In her hands are clothes, a towel, and some soap.

“Let’s go clean up.” Her voice is as kind as when any of the children are injured. I wonder if fear counts as an injury. She brings out her hand to take mine. I reach out at first but I use the hand that first sank into Red’s chest. Quickly, I take it back. “Feline?”

“Sorry,” I don’t want her to think that I don’t want to hold her hand. My head hangs low again, afraid to look at her. “I don’t want to get you dirty,” is the first thing I can think of. It’s true in a way.

“It’s okay,” she speaks softly, “I don’t mind.” She comes closer and takes my hand for herself. “Let’s go.” Slowly, I follow her to the back of the barn where the well is. She takes the blanket from around my shoulders and I can see the blood that dyes my clothes rather than staining it. Mama doesn’t pause or hold her breath like I do; she moves as gently as she speaks, “let me help you.” Together we peel away the garments sticking to my body. The skin revealed is mottled with light red smears over every inch. I stand by the well naked while Mama brings up the water. We each use a rag to scrub off the sticky residue and Mama uses soap in my hair before we lather it around the rest of me. I can’t smell anything other than the wax soap anymore and even the underside of my nails are freshly cleaned. She gives me a towel to dry myself off while she brings over the fresh clothes. Once I’m in them a renewed Mama smiles at me and it almost feels like I’m the same girl I was just a day ago.

~~~~~~~~~~

Papa and Uncle cleaned up the barn and buried the remains. In order to prevent suspicions Papa and the boys went to the city, claiming that they only heard about the war recently and came as soon as they were prepared. Papa came back by himself since a new policy made it so any farms would have at least one man of proper age for harvest. The goal is to not destroy the agriculture market while the army takes all the food it needs from said farmers. I’m not sure how much good only one man under 40 could do when we lost five others but I’m glad Papa is home. I take care of the most taxing duties while the younger kids pick up the slack; our whole chore system is reworked and it takes a while to get used to it. We get to the point when no one has a second to spare, but even without using Ethan (who’s still too young to be a workhorse) we manage extremely well.

Over the next year no one brings up the night I killed three men with my bare hands and I’m not going to change that. A few of my cousins who were there don’t talk to me that much anymore. Mama tells me that they were surprised and don’t understand that I’m the same as I was before that night. She tells me to keep being myself and it’ll all be fine. One day the situation changes drastically. I assume that a major discussion happened while I was in the fields because a couple of the girls came up to hug me with teary apologies as soon as I returned. I have no idea about what was said because the only words I could hear from them was just ‘sorry’ repeated a few hundred times.

~~~~~~~~~~

““Happy Birthday!””

It’s mid-winter and also the birthday of our family’s first set of twins, Eleanor and Miranda. They’re fifteen and so their mother and mine will be teaching them all they need to know about marriage, wifedom, and motherhood. When they’re eighteen they’ll use that training to go to the Maiden Festival in Bristow, find suitors, and eventually leave the family to join another.

“Ursula!” Uncle calls out from his family’s room.

“Yes?” Aunt maneuvers between children to reach him, closing the door behind her. A few minutes later we all hear high pitched screaming. I immediately tense up as well as the rest of the girls but the screams soon turn into cheers and laughter. Uncle tries to calm her down and we hear giggles and “sorry,” from behind the door. Uncle comes out trying to look dignified and pretending that Aunt didn’t act like a child only a moment ago.

“Eleanor, Miranda,” he begins as a more calm version of Aunt comes out to stand behind him. “With how well the family has been doing I had decided to save up for a very special gift. No one in the history of our family has ever been fortunate enough to get such an honor.” He pauses for dramatic effect and the edges of his mouth turn up. Aunt is visibly holding herself back with her lips turning inward and tense fingers wrapping around her other hand. “In your eighteenth year we can afford you both to be part of the ‘Ladies’ group in the Maiden Festival.” Aunt shouts her congratulations and squeezes the girls tightly in her long arms. Mama copies the actions, although not as violently enthusiastic. “Make sure to study hard,” Uncle finishes.

“Thank you very much Daddy,” Eleanor responds, “but what does the Ladies group do that is different?”

“They get to meet with high class bachelors and stay in the Bristow Castle during the Festival.” Aunt’s eyes shoot upwards like she’s having a daydream.

“Those are the two most widely known benefits but there’s more to it than that,” Mama adds.”There’s a council that pairs you up with the most fitting candidates depending on personality and interests.

“That’s right! You came from a high class family, didn’t you Adelaide?” Aunt casually blurts out. She, Uncle, and Papa may only recall this piece of information but none of us children had ever heard of such a thing.

“What?!” Elizabeth shouts, my ten year old sister has lately been in love with the idea of prestige and the upper class.

“Hahaha, where did you think I learned all those stories I told you? Many of those are based on fact.” Mama’s enjoying our confusion. How could we not be shocked? We live in a four room house with almost 30 people altogether, 13 before I was born. When I was little Papa and Uncle were the only ones who worked the farm. We didn’t have any hogs, chickens, or even our one mule. Our crop fields were a quarter of what they are now and I can’t imagine there being as much revenue as we get each year. They’re saying that a high class, privileged, young lady married into almost certain poverty. Luckily, we’re not in poverty even though the house is still only four (very large) rooms, but still!

“How did you end up marrying Papa?” I can’t help but to ask such a pestering question. Mama only smiles at us but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Because I love him,” her voice is soft while she links her arm into Papa’s like she’s telling the truth but her sorrowful eyes tell me that there’s more to the story than that.

“My previous social title is in the past,” she avoids the topic like it doesn’t matter. “Now is the time where Eleanor and Miranda work towards their future.” Everyone's smiles grow excitedly.

“That’s right,” Aunt joins her, “you two have my blood and the combined knowledge of myself and Adelaide. From tomorrow until the Maiden Festival we’ll teach you all we know about being a woman.”

“I look forward to it,” Eleanor’s mouth spreads a confident grin with a voice as strong as ever, no hesitation.

“Yes, Mommy,” Miranda isn’t as energetic as her instructors and not as sure as Eleanor.

“Don’t worry, Miranda.” Aunt takes her hands, “you’ll learn much more than how to make a man like you. Defending against unwanted attention is necessary for every woman as well.” Miranda relaxes a bit and nods. I’m sure both Eleanor and Miranda will find great husbands in the future. Eleanor is the type to leave us in awe while Miranda is the type you want to protect but also strongly supports you. I catch Papa’s unsure glimpse at me and I wonder if I can follow Mama’s dreams of me having a family. I have no doubts about my twin cousins but plenty of doubts about myself.