Flies settled around the soldier's head, nesting in the crooked curls of his straw colored hair. His netted helmet was halfway buried in the ground, next to a pile of tangled weed and grass. I could make out my reflection in his muddy boots, which had most likely been polished or shone that very morning.

When I stared at the dilapidated storehouse, I knew that George had left his mark there. It was empty; the footsteps of his men littering the ground. The Red Mamba camp around me was nothing but an ice bath; the corpses of weak men motionless around me. Except for this one. He had seen me coming to him and blew out his brains with a small pistol, bits of it scattered across the ground. He was not a fool like the rest.

I dipped my index finger into the blood seeping out of his shrunken ears and nose. When I placed it in my mouth, I could taste nothing at all this time. Not even iron or metal. His lifeless eyes met mine, full of everything and nothing at once.

* * * * * * *

The weather struggled to make up its mind.

One day it was frigid, the other pouring heavily until giant puddles of water the size of lakes spread out on the swampy chocolate earth, and suddenly blazing hot as the sun decided to scorch everything in its path. Dew settled on the leaves and branches hanging heavily from the popular trees and twisted vines that crawled up their gnarled, scratched trunks. My beloved's company was soothing to my broken, empty soul, a bond that began to mend the cracks that had settled over its surface. She told me about what it was like to dwell in the village and asked me so many questions my voice became hoarse from talking too much. But I answered each and every one, and she would listen with great intrigue.

Our quiet lovemaking continued deep each night under the shelter of the dark trees, smelling of soil and mushrooms and grass and moss. The plants' sweet scent and our heavy breaths filled the air.

My hands were damp, raw from scrubbing. My skin burned and was pink from trying to get everything off me. As I descended down a grassy hill, I paused and took a shaky breath, wanting to clear my thoughts. Honda sat at the edge of the stream, drawing on a sketchbook; pencil lead smeared across her palm. I was not sure how long she had been awake. Yet there was a stiffness to her posture, an unease. Her long hair fell down her shoulders; legs sloshing against the surface of the flowing water. My bare feet were silent against the grass as I approached her from behind. When she noticed my shadow she looked up, slightly jumping, a red haze on her nose. Then she gave me one of her sweet, shy smiles.

"That's beautiful," I whispered, gesturing at her drawing. As she gazed at me, I faintly smiled at her. "May I?"

As she nodded and I took it from her, I noticed her she palm was slightly shaking; she wiped it against her skirts. The ring on her index finger had left a indentation on her skin. It was obvious that her skills had tremendously improved. I ran my hand across the surface of the page, observing the detail. I was dying to ask her more questions about her job up north but didn't do so. I wondered what people she was around---if anyone recognized her. I wondered why she was so jumpy and on edge lately. My throat grew tight. Had she discovered my inhumane deeds; noticed the bloody clothes I hid from her under a rock?

"It is not finished yet," Honda signed, although she kept looking down. "I need to add a few more touches. It...it would be a shame if I didn't."

I studied the sketchbook, before settling next to her in the grass. A long silence passed between us, and I desperately wanted her to tell me what was bothering her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, hugging her knees to her chest. Before I could muster enough courage to ask her, she raised a hand to sign again. I scooted a bit closer to her; swallowing hard and bracing myself.

"I’m...I’m with child."

The world stopped for a moment as the sketchbook slipped out of my hand; my heart began pounding at a rapid speed. Honda did not look at me, just stared at her anxious reflection in the water. Thousands of thoughts rushed into my mind and crashed against each other like rocks.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

She quickly nodded.

"When did you—”

"I found out a few weeks back," she continued. "Was unwell, throwing up a lot. I missed my periods. Lots of smells make me nauseous lately. I went to Svetty, told her my symptoms, but I wanted to convince her it was a stomach bug. She told me to go to a pharmacy. I was up north in the city and brought a test. The ones they sell at the market shops in the civilian world. I took several more to make sure. Eight or ten." When she finally made eye contact with me, she had begun to tear up. "I am sorry. I should have told you earlier."

"Are you..." My voice was raspy. I cursed myself for not even noticing how exhausted she appeared lately. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Honda sniffed. "Yes."

I took her hand in mine and smiled to myself, surprised to sense water forming in my vision, before beginning to slightly chuckle. It took me a minute to process her words. Only a year before, when I had been lying in the darkness, never did I believe that I would ever be able to have a family of my own, let alone children. To hold one in my arms. A family. A home I could share with others, one would I could hear laughter every day.

"This is great," I whispered real soft, giving her hand a soft squeeze. She had given me the best gift I had ever received in my life, and she didn't even know it. "This is great."

A family.

An eager look fell upon her face; she hadn't heard me. "I know it's a lot. I am so sorry. Truly. I knew you had so much on your mind, and I was going to tell you when I found out, but I didn't want to burden you any further. You looked so tired and stressed and I--"

"Shhh," I murmured, wiping the tears that were starting to spill down her nose and cheeks with my hand. A muffled sob came from her. The moment I pulled her into my arms, she buried her face in my shoulder. "There is no need to apologize. I wish you didn't feel like you have to. I know I haven't been here as much as I should be. I'm sorry."

"I'm scared," she signed. "What if I am a bad mama? I lost mine when I was real young. I think of her a lot sometimes. I try to remember what she looked like. But I can't. Her face is a blank slate."

Me too. But I didn't want to face the memories right now, or the fact that I hadn't slept in days because I kept imagining her reaction if she somehow found out what I was doing. If she feared me as much as the others; it would cut deep; even far more than Ki's or Covey's reactions when they saw me for the first time that day. And if a villager found her here and took her away after exposing me to her. I couldn't tell her about my past, which she knew little of, or the kind of people I used to be associated with. I couldn't tell her a lot of things. I hated holding things back from her, because, just as George had said--I was nothing but a monster. I only could beg her to trust me.

"It's okay," I replied, trying to not look at the blood outlining my dark fingernails. "It will be okay, I promise." Please, don't be scared.

"I only want to be a good mama," she signed.

"You will. You'll never have to worry."

Honda gazed at me, her eyes a bit red. I knew that wasn't the only thing she was concerned about.

"I'll take care of you," I whispered, leaning my forehead against her own. "All this stressin' isn't good for...the both of you." A faint smile crept on my face. "Wonder if this little one will take up their mother's stunning looks. Then what I will do?" While I was not ready to tell her that it was a strong possibility that my child might inherit the curse I carried in my blood, I knew I had to be prepared. And when I slowly placed a hand on her flat stomach, I knew how foolish it was to do so, since it was far too early to sense any movement. I wanted to feel a kick, a tiny imprint of a foot against my palm. I wanted to feel all these things.

A robin landed on a nearby branch, chirping, its song mixing in with the trickling sound of the water. When it flew away, I lightly kissed her ear, making her look up at me with surprise and giggle.

"You can tell me anything," I softly said, breaking the silence. "I know I look to be quite intimidating sometimes, but you needn't be afraid." The familiar ache in my chest returned. She was afraid of upsetting me. She thought I would do something horrible to her in a moment's time.

"I'm really sorry," Honda said for the third time. "I didn't want to place more of a burden on you. Given how much I see you..." She looked down. "You look so tired. Very tired. I couldn't imagine how it would be like if you came back here after a long day and found yourself faced with more responsibility? You work harder than anyone I've ever known in my life. You already take care of me; I couldn't have you doing even more."

"The blasted country itself is a burden," I said, wishing she didn't feel this way. "Almost everyone in my life is one. But you will never be a burden to me."

My beloved rubbed her nose and warmly smiled. "Maybe our baby will grow up to be as tall as you are. That's all from your side, Sandwich King. I don't have none of that in me."

I said nothing, because I understood at that moment that she was afraid of me, deep within. I sensed her growing anxiety, her being careful around me more than usual. I knew she had become more nervous because she was picking up on the behavior I was trying so desperately hard to hide from her. I knew it was because she had never seen me trapped in a complete state of rage before. When she pulled me into an embrace, I held her and the little bit of life that had settled in between us in my arms and closed my eyes. I whispered promises in her left ear, my lips against her freckled neck. Telling her she did not have to fear. Her body was tense, held on tighter to me. The metal band on her finger was cold against my skin, strands of her curly hair, oddly similar to the pattern of the soldier's, soft against my face.

She had seen something I'd done.

* * * * * * * * *

The clicking sound of a rifle echoed in my ears.

It was graceful, like a piano note. I was under a tree, unfolding a large map of the island I had picked up from one of the abandoned libraries in the ruins around me; the only one that was still in tack and not completely in shambles. Not only did I take the map, but several half burned books with some of their covers ruined sat near Navu's desolate remains. I gently spread the paper out on the ground, my disheveled hair falling over my face, writing another note to George he would either leave or take. Then I slowly turned around, the perpetrator's inky shadow leaking across the dirt.

A woman with long white hair in a braid had the firearm pointed at me. The strap hung from her left arm as she took a step back, disgusted at the sight of me. Her gray dress was faded and stained with dirt, and a pale toe poked out of her shabby boots. She clenched her jaw, her strange colored eyes set and narrowed as she took in my surroundings. But to my surprise, I realized that her face lacked a scar, just like mine. I stared at her, carefuly holding my hands out, before I instantly recognized her from the sick tent.

"I figure I would find you out here," she said. Her voice, which was thick with rage, was a bit deeper than I had anticipated. "They would put me in this rotten place if they found no use for me too. You're not the only one being exploited for your skills. And maybe that's the only thing we have in common, but nothing else. Nothing at all." Yet as she spoke these words, her eyes were wet.

"You must be Svetty," I quietly answered.

She glared at me.

"Put that down. I won't harm you."

"I don't think I need you to tell me what to do," the woman snapped. "I'll keep this here for my own personal protection. A crazy fool like you can always be unpredictable."

I looked down. "Very well."

"I don't care who you think I am. I'm here to tell you one thing only. You had no right, to do what you did. You had no right."

A long silence passed between us.

"Do you hear me?" she yelled. "You had no right."

My eyes got hot at the edges.

"You should have not been near her. The moment you saw her, you should've went in the other direction. Her place is in the village. Not here."

I said nothing.

The woman's face turned dark red. Tears suddenly escaped down her face. "She is pregnant, isn't she? With your child. I know it's yours, and if you try to deny it, I'll make sure you regret doing so. And I don't want you near her from now on. When she asked me where to find the medicine to treat her nausea, I knew what was up. She never told me, but I knew. I know."

"She's alright," I whispered. "She's better now."

The white haired woman didn't seem to take to my reaction kindly. She raised her rifle, looking more enraged. But the weapon barely bothered me.

"She's five to six weeks at the most along. I've suspected it ever since she experienced nausea and wouldn't stop bringing up her food." She spat on the ground. "You think this is a joke, don't you? You've lost your mind? Got what you wanted, yes? I hope you're satisfied. You manipulated her to come here and have your way with things."

"That's not true--"

"Are you even aware of what you have done? I'm taking my friend and we are leaving the village in two moons. We are heading to a safer place where she can safely have the baby, and this is the last time that you lay eyes on me. I'll never forgive you for what you've done to her. If they find out that it's yours, especially Fritz, they will kill her. Do you hear me? They'll kill her. They'll burn her at the stake and let her be consumed by the flames. I just wanted to get a good look at your face and let you know that it is your fault. Yours."

I could hardly breathe.

Despair washed over me as she turned to go. I took a few steps towards her. She fired the rifle, but I yanked it out of her grasp and made her face me by holding onto her shoulders. She slapped me in the face, her teeth clenched as she tried to pull away. Throughout the midst of our struggle, ice and frost began to crawl on the ground. Her eyes widened at the sight, and the air grew colder, our breaths visible. She struck me again.

"Let go of me, or I'll make your life hell."

"Wait, don't go! Can we talk about this? We can work something out. Just...just listen to me---"

"No, you listen," Svetty shouted. "When she starts showing, then what will happen to her?" Her voice trailed off into a whimper. "Fritz...he's organizing a raid. He knows where you both are. If you don't get her out of here, he's going to kill her." A weak sob escaped from her mouth. "I heard him talking about it with Jene. He knows. He knows."

I watched her turn and run away, my breaths shaky. She had left the rifle on the ground. As I slowly settled on the frozen ground, in the midst of the mess, burying my head in my hands, my bare feet curled on the small clusters of frosted grass. And when I made my way through the fields, I noticed a frayed rope hanging from a tree branch.

* * * * * * * *

The snow storm followed me everywhere I went, feeezing everything in my path. But there was nothing but the empty natural world and man's failed attempts towards civilization. My weak gasps echoed in the air, and I found myself collapsing on the ground. And finally, something in me snapped, the deep, fierce anger than I had tried to long to suppress came back and dragged me down by force. It made me more afraid of myself than the others. I fixed my eyes on the village, waiting for the darkness to come to me.

Fritz knelt by a spring of water one warm night, placing the bucket on the dirt. He looked a lot different from when I saw him last. Less muscular, more frail. Less stronger. Yet the look in his wretched eyes made a knot form at the pit of my stomach. My mouth went dry.

The man who planned to hang my wife and baby from a tree was on his knees. He began to greedily sip it down, obviously parched from working in one of the wheat fields. All reason left me, a savage instinct took over my senses. I glared at him from behind the bushes, a drop of blood slowly trailing down my nose and mouth as I lifted my fingers, concentrating. The clear liquid morphed and reached out, wrapping around his arms and pulling him down across the muddy bank. He tried to shout, but frost settled over his lips, his eyes wide with panic as he squirmed and kicked. As he slipped under the surface of the water, bubbles rose in the surface. My hands slightly shook as he struggled to break free from the force that came from me. The taste of iron in my mouth was sweeter than before, and the water kept sloshing, splashing, foaming white. He tried to scream, but could hardly get out a whimper.

I raised my left hand.

Fritz began to float above the water, coughing and spitting, finally being able to breathe. His eyes were wide, bulging.A strangled cry came from him as his limbs fell under my control, like wretched puppet strings. The sound of his bones snapping gave me immediate satisfaction, and when he landed on the soft mud with a thud, he attempted to scoot away on his side.

"Please," he wailed.

I wondered, what was he asking for? My bare feet left patches of ice with each step I took on the water. He held a hand out, his face bewildered at the sight of me. My fingers wrapped around a broken, rotting log with mushrooms growing on its surface. Tears streamed down his face, trickled down his nose and mouth. I barely looked him in the eyes. Raising the log, I brought it down again with one swift, heavy motion.

And again.

His weak screams did not reach my ears. Splinters dug into my sweaty palm. I could not hear them, although his mouth was wide open. I hit him harder than anything I'd ever hit in my life, gritting my teeth. Even when the noises went away, I kept swinging, blood soaking my shirt and skin and hair, bits of flesh and brain matter clinging to my skin. Red sprayed on the tree trunks; the earth. His face was unrecognizable, only a mound of flesh.

Finally, the surface of the water became still, birds still chirping in the distance. I snapped out of my trance, suddenly freaking out, my breaths shaky, peering from behind my disheveled hair. His face was pale, lips blue, and a puddle seeped around us on the dirt as he floated in the water. His eyes lifelessly stared at the sky, and realization of what I had just done fell on me. The bucket had rolled down and splashed into the water, traveling down into the current as well as his limp arms and legs. I stole his pocket knife and sliced his neck, separating his head from his body.

When I reached the woods, I sat at the entrance of the dark cave, breathing heavily. My eyes were wet. Here Boy looked at me, tail wagging, but did not make a noise. With the blade in my hand, I shoved it deep into Fritz's battered skull, making a large crack. I began to softly sing. I kissed my beloved on the cheek, who was fast asleep under a blanket. Her hands were smudged with paint.

In a daze, I furiously dug a deep hole into the ground out back, spreading soil on top of the severed head. Strands of Fritz's hair blew in the wind; I covered it with a pile of green moss. My sobs shook my body as I stripped and scrubbed at my skin in the river until it was pink. I then burned my clothing in a small fire, standing naked in front of the flames. Eli bleated in the distance; I fed him a handful of grass before slipping into the night.

* * * * * *

For the rest of that week the villagers covered their skin with ashes, holding a large ceremony in which flowers and the body was cremated. Everyone's face was downcast, and not a single word was spoken; only the sound of the fire crackling filled the air as the orange glow fell upon the people. But what had been rage before slowly fell into tremendous, horrible guilt. Guilt towards how George wept for days, his face and eyes a deep red color. Jene, Covey, and Ki didn't engage in agricultural activities, and their crops began to fail.

I hardly recognized, or understood what I was becoming. I didn't seem to notice either, and the hunger for retribution was stronger than ever. While some believed the death had been caused by an accident, others became more wary of diffent circumstances. The villagers were crowded around that same spring, talking to themselves, until George, still clad in black clothing, yelled at them to shut their mouths and get back to work, or else they were all going to starve and have nothing to eat that week. I remained in the shadows, looking down at my bare feet. And throughout the rest of that month, I brought in three hundred more prisoners towards him.

* * * * * * * * *

I told George, Follow me.

He asked, Where are we going?

Follow me.

He gathered his men. I painted my face, placing neat, detailed dots on my cheekbones, the tip of my nose. I added the remnants of his bones to my collection. The ashes of the soldiers' burnt skin clung to my arms and legs as I rose from the dead grass around me, following the marks of the villagers who now wielded guns in their arms. The abandoned city of Navu was now ours---it would always be ours. The buildings were rotten and caved over, attempting to break free from their established structures that were planted in the earth. Guiding the water tendrils that had sprouted from my arms, I leapt from broken, towering pile of rubble to another, creating currents of snow and icy wind to distract the enemy.

The soldiers' shoes echoed across the cracked pavement, a direct contrast to the silent trod of the prisoners' bloodied ones as they were herded like cattle into long separate lines. Dogs barked and whined; cigarette ashes were flung from the gnarled, blackened fingers of men. And for the first time in a while, I was able to glance up into the faces of others and garner no sort of reaction due to the state of both civilian and Khonie.

In the midst of the pouring rain, I managed to pull myself up over the broken, splintered roof tiles of the sagging buildings. The boar's blood began to travel down my elbows, my cheeks, the edge of my nose, mixing with my own. I could sense the attraction of the water in the atmosphere gravitate heavily towards me, my soul. The energy circulating around me was so heavy it made it nearly impossible for me to breathe, and the taste of blood, which had always been bitter and metallic to me at that point, was heavenly, sweeter than the finest wine. More savory than how Fritz's had been in my mouth. There was a burning fire inside of me, one that water could never quench or satisfy. The tendrils wrapped around my arms and protruded from my glowing blue back.

Sharp ice shards formed from the rain, causing some people to scream below and and duck for cover. Using my left fingers, I directed them to every single person that I could spot in a gray camaflouged uniform. When I jumped down and landed on the street, crouched on my knees, several giant cracks spread across the pavement, erupting underground pipes and causing cars to fall in. Large, mishapened chunks of concrete piled up around those scrambling and abandoning their vehicles. I sensed the great pressure in my head due to the heavy streams of ice shooting from the middle of my palms. Thousands of icicles lined my path as I slowly made my way through the city, watching the small dots of people flee.

The metal gates at the entrance of the city flew off its hinges, crumpled and torn like paper as ice and snow crawled and spread across the buildings. What had once been the faces of male and female soldiers were now frozen statues around me, their limbs and joints permanently stuck into a position.

I shot one of my tendrils forward, leaping from one roof to the other, the thick trail of frost following behind me. I knew I was in the middle of Flanders; the camps were only a good twenty miles away. As the ice wall began to engulf everything into a thick layer of ice, the winds grew stronger, rotating around me. I landed on one of the main streets, hungrily rushing after the soldiers running, slicing, cutting, biting. Their detached arms and legs flew in the air, a large puddle of their wretched blood spilling on the ground. After snapping a man's neck into two, the sound of his bone cracking giving me satisfaction, I thought I could make out a figure approaching me in the white whirlwind of snow around me. My hair flew in my face, covering my eyes, nose.

George stood in the middle of the street, holding his gun. I stared at him, my tendrils floating in the air, a lump rising in my throat. Weakly, I fumbled into my pocket and held out the plans I had written for him and the boys. He struggled to breathe, took one look at me, and ran in other direction. He screamed at me to stay away from him, the others. When I collapsed to my knees, the winds died, leaving behind a deafening silence.

Flanders was now ours.

* * * * * * *

I sat in the darkness, coated in blood. My hands rested on the wrinkled, stained papers. When I heard footsteps in the grass I slightly turned my head to the side. Honda shyly stood near an oak tree; her bare feet smeared with dirt. She had a thick folder tucked underneath her only arm. A small bump had begun to form on her lower abdomen, poking through the thin nightgown she wore. And I struggled to remember how many months she was along now—two or three? I wondered if my child would like roller skating or football or dancing. I wondered if they would have a gap between their two front teeth; what their favorite flavor of ice cream would be. I wonder if they would ever be able to know and understand who I was.

She squinted to see in the pitch black, scuffling along in the grass, hand resting on her stomach. Her ankles had already begun to swell a bit. A broad grin broke across her face when she sensed my presence, that she had been looking forward to meet me all day. She stumbled a bit forward again.

”Adlai!” she signed. “You missed supper!”

”I’m here,” I whispered, a smile gathering on my lips. “I’m right here.”

”You’ve been gone for a long time. Do you know where Svetty might be? She hasn’t been near the village. I tried to look for her but couldn’t find her anywhere.” She sighed. “I hope that she’s alright. I didn’t even get to tell her about the baby yet.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I rose to my feet.

"Are you cold?" she signed. "There's no fire. Why didn’t you tell me so? I could’ve brought you something warm for you.”

Strands of my hair fell over my face. “You ain’t gotta do all those things, you know.”

”Adlai? Where’d you go?”

”I’m here, amore,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

She eagerly held the folder out. "I...I know you get a bit worried about me going up north. But I was real careful this time. I have more information. Enough to help you.”

I kept my head low, the stench of human blood heavy on me After a brief pause, Honda placed the papers on the tree stump and took another step forward. "Are you hungry? Let me make something real quick."

"No, amore," I softly said. "It's best you aren't up on your feet too much anyways through the day. “

"But you haven’t eaten all day. Where are you?" she signed. "I can't see you."

A tear spilled down my face. “I'm right here, babe. I ain’t gonna leave you.”

She hesitated, the moonlight shone on her wild, unkempt curls. "You sure you don't want supper? Or at least let me get a fire going. It can get very chilly here. I hate to see you with an empty stomach.”

"No, it's okay. I’m not very hungry. You rest. I'll see you in the morning. Need to clear my thoughts.”

Honda nodded. She then reached into the pocket of her ragged dress and pulled out three mangoes. "Made sure you have your fruits. They aren’t sour this time; I checked. Plenty of vitamins." When she set them down next to the folder, she gazed at the pitch darkness that hid my shame, my filth. Her gray eyes finally focused my shadow, beginning to adjust a bit. "If you have any dirty clothes, please give them to me. I can wash them for you."

"You don’t have to do all that,” I whispered. “Sleep well. You need it more than I.”

”That’s not true, and you know it. What if you catch a cold out here?”

”I never get sick.”

”Let me bring a blanket, at least.”

I tried to ignore the throbbing pain at the back of my skull. “I’m alright, really. I’ll eat twice as much as tomorrow to make up for the lost meals today.” My face was wet.

”Adlai?”

I bit my lip.

“Villagers are saying Fritz got killed by a wild animal. You know who he is, right? One of the leaders who brought Jene and us over here. Maybe a mountain lion or a bear. They said he was ripped apart. But I haven’t seen one around here before. Have you?” Honda peered at the dark. “They’re big creatures.”

“They are,” I softly said. My hands were shaky; water blurring my vision.

“I wish I were brave, ” she replied. “I wish I wasn’t afraid of anything. I reckon bears don’t give you much of a fright, anyways.”

A long silence passed.

I whispered, “I’m alright. No need to worry.”

”But—”

”No doubt you are exhausted. It’s been a long day. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” The dried blood on my body made my skin tingle. “Best for you and the baby.”

“Do you think it was a mountain lion?” she asked. “Do mountain lions eat people?”

I looked down, unable to face her.

”Adlai?” she slowly signed.

Honda stood still for a moment. After feeling around blindly in the dark, she disappeared in the woods, still spelling out my name. Once I was sure she was gone and had made her way up towards the cave, I fell apart in countless pieces, shattering apart from within until I was drowning in the midst of my silent sobs and there was no light for me to see or imagine. My tears stained the notes I had written for George, causing the ink I had used to bleed on the page, for my crooked letters to lose their meaning.