The Way I Grew Up

Chapter 5

Now, as I sat by the fire—the warmth prickling upon my skin, the whispers now so faint but still her presence, a soft breeze, fall of pages of a book, rustling with the wind—the eighty-four years weighed heavily upon these bones with the memory of my mother.

Maybe such tales of Irene and the lights would be kept alive—maybe through the mouths of people, just like leaves in the sound of wind.

And now, with these words said, with the embers of a fire dying before me, I knew that it couldn't be long before I must keep my tryst with her, back in the bosom of the woods we loved so well.

Less distinct than actually seeing it, I remembered it, only slightly duller than normal, but basically, I was able to see through a sleepy vision...

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I was in the cabin two weeks after the lights passed.

In my grief, I couldn't stand the thought of being alone again, yet I still had Jane.

Leaves rustled and boots crunched, breaking the sacred silence of our forest sanctuary.

A warning growl low came from beside the fireplace, from Jane's perked up and out ears. I knew that sound: it was trouble comin' knockin'.

I peered out the cabin's single window, my heart racing. A group of them stumbled into the clearing.

Their uniforms, slick with mud and sweat, did not lend them any air of professionalism.

They looked more lost than anything, desperate, and more than a little dangerous.

"Ma'am," called their leader, voice deep enough to echo through most of the trees, "we need shelter. We're just passing through."

I inhaled deeply and stepped out. The cool air of the night pricked my skin a bit. "This ain't no place for passin' through," I stated firmly. "What brings you here?"

The frontman—the young corporal, from his shoulder insignia—eyed me over.

His eyes passed over the gun in my hand yet again before taking me in once more. "Orders, ma'am. We're just lookin' for a place to rest our heads."

I could not trust them, but I meant we had been nurtured with the rule of helping the needy. "You can stay for the night around the forest," he said, "but you'll be on your way come dawn."

"Do you have something to eat?" one of the men asked.

I sighed. I could use some company.

They agreed readily enough, and soon enough the cabin reeked of smoke and sweat.

Jane never moved from my side; her eyes were set on these soldiers holding forth in low tones, passing a jug of whiskey around a circle, swapping stories of battles won and lost.

And as the night went on, the whispers grew louder, bolder. It was that feeling of their eyes on me—the girl with the dead mother, the strange lights.

"Wuzz wrong wif yer ma?" one of them slurred, his hand just about on the fireplace poker.

"None of. your business," I snapped, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

He was laughing and it was so loud, it rattled through my house's bones.

They talked about Irene, about lights and whispers that had started going through woods since she'd gone.

And now they talked about her like she was some kind of a myth, a fairytale, and it hurt.

"Ma'am," said the corporal thickly, his voice whiskey-laden, "you don't suppose you got anything to do with them lights, do ya?"

I met his gaze with my cold one. "I know enough to know that you shouldn't be here."

They quieted, their glances switching to the shadows outside. The whispers grew softer, but the tension remained, thick as the fog that sometimes choked the woods.

"We ain't here for no lights," another soldier spoke up, his voice gruff. "But we do need somethin' of yours."

"Yeah, and what would that be?" I asked, tightening my grip on the gun.

The corporal leaned forward, his eyes lighting with excitement in the fire's light. "We heard you got a bear cub. We could use some entertainment..."

My anger boiled up in me. Brutus was family; not some prize for these men to claim. "You'll not lay a hand on him," I said, low and dangerous.

They chuckled more loudly as they rose, their shadows rising over me. Jane's growl turned deeper, baring her teeth.

"Looks like we'll be takin' what we want," said the corporal, reaching for the door into the back room where Brutus slept.

I looked to my side at the gun and suddenly realized Jane was missing.

But before he could take a step, a sound echoed through the woods, a sound that stopped all men in their tracks: the haunting call of a wolf.

Brutus' head shot up, growling back with her own that had chills running down my spine.

The soldiers all froze, their eyes hugely wide with fear. "What the hell was that out there?" one of them whispered.

"That," I said, my voice as cold as the moon above, "is your warning to leave us be."

Outside the sky was lit up almost like daytime. It was the lights!

One of the men shouted outside the cabin. We heard a growl, a snarl, and then silence.

The call of Jane drew nearer and then, as if by magic, the woods burst into song: a chorus of even more howls.

The soldiers ran, their bravado suddenly forgotten as they stumbled out into the night.

The lights grew stronger but faded within the hour of their leave.

I inhaled deeply, just as soon as the clearing was emptied. Jane came back over by me, but she still watched the door. "Thanks," I whispered, scratching her fur softly. "Thank you for keeping us safe."

We waited till morning, then daybreak washed all the shadows away.

Then finally, together, we buried a studded corporal star as a symbol of a night we then swore would never be mentioned again.

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I came awake from my vision and stared at the fire in the present. The stars outside were dark and the forest seemed silent.

I moved my head to the side of the rocking chair, sleepy under the guiding stars above...