Lessoc Fountain - a fairy-creature tale

Ch. 15 Darkness Within (Part One)

Cocot stirred, snuggling deep in the grassy bed of the field. No moisture had seeped through her dress or roots or rocks poked her.

The chiming of church bells broke through her sleepy thoughts. Three chimes. It was a quarter 'til. A quarter to what, though?

Hector was grazing on the far side of the hill and ignored her when she clucked and called. After a minute, she had to run over to fetch him in order to place the canvas bags across his wide back and start on the road home.

It would take at least five hours, mostly uphill. The bells sounded three o'clock shortly there afterwards. She had slept for nearly two hours under the tree, but it would be all right—by the time she reached home there would still be daylight, even if the sun was behind the mountains.

Hector plodded along behind her until they left the flat bottom and began to go uphill. He slowed, then stopped, trembling and breathing heavily.

"Need to stop for a moment?" Cocot asked him. She set down her basket to rest, too. Waiting for the bells to ring (there were churches all through the valley) she told him again that he would be happier with his new shoes and that on Saturday, they would go to the farm where Daniel lived.

It had been late fall the last time Cocot had gone to the market—her mother's last time, as well. Her mother had insisted on going to buy a few necessary supplies for winter, including medicine for herself, for her cough. It had been a terrible mistake. The walk there exhausted Fanchon and they had arrived right before noon as the stands were closing. Her mother had hurried about, clutching her chest with each wracking cough, trying to collect what they needed. She had spent quite a bit of money at the pharmacy and she shook her head in anger as they left the town. At the first farm, her mother sank to her knees; she could go no further. Cocot could still see her reaching her hand out to a man who had stopped his truck to ask if she needed help. The pale hand, laced with bumpy blue veins had trembled and her breath had rasped in her chest.

Cocot stood when the bells marked five o'clock. "Break is over, Hector!" He limped over, head bowed. "Ready? There's an apple for you at the chalet, so let's not petzeons in the road!" she said, forcing cheerfulness and gaiety in every word and line on her face, up to her eyebrows. She took the lead.

The man had driven her mother and her in his truck to Lessoc, where he had family. He offered to go further, but for some reason, her mother had insisted she was strong enough for the last part of the walk—a moment's dizziness, was all, she was fine now.

Not one minute later, Fanchon had faltered; coughing and hacking against a tree trunk. So Cocot had shouldered the bags with their precious winter supplies (staggering under the weight) and led the way home, her mother shuffling through the fallen leaves, her head too heavy to hold upright. The browns and rusts at her feet were succumbing to the greedy night without the least struggle.

"Go on ahead, Cocot," her mother had repeated several times. "Don't let the shadows catch you out here."

"Shadows won't hurt me, Mother. I have to get you home or this chill will make you worse."

"The chill does not touch me."

Well, it touched Cocot. It had her in its barbed grasp. She was a shivering, shaking insect in frost's web, straining against the weight of the bags across her shoulders and willing her mother to keep moving, but they were never fast enough to escape the trap of coldness and shadows. And the spider was coming for them. Something that was out there was creeping closer with the dark of night. Something that the light held at bay—at arm's reach, but was set loose when the sun vanished from the sky.