The Names Our Children Will Know

The Tale of Howling Beach - Draft One

The next morning, Martha and Easton made it clear that they didn't want to be left behind again. Mark had taken them to stay with Kasibat Terracin once more, the old werian healer that lived at the end of the street.

"Don't leave us again," Martha pleaded tearfully, clutching Mark's sleeve. "Don't go away!"

Despite the healer's reassurances, Mark still worried about his werian twins. Mark kneeled down next to his small charge. "Come here, Martha." He pulled the smaller girl into his arms. The others were already standing next to their horses, ready to leave. Mark told the young girl, "I'm not leaving permanently. I'll come back, I promise. I always do."

Even with his reassurances, Martha still clung to Mark and wouldn't let him go until he swore on his entire ancestry that he would come back and never leave them behind again. Only then did Martha release his sleeve. Instead, she clutched at Easton's hand and stared accusingly as Mark followed after Tessa, Wesson, and Jordan.

They covered a lot of ground in the next week, almost all the way to the edge of the desert. The four of them and Ghost were settled in a small grove of trees near a cheerful stream. They all settled down slowly, the darkness falling over them like a blanket.

Wesson was the first to fall asleep. He built up the fire again before leaning back and beginning to snore. His theory was that the fire would keep animals from attacking them, but Jordan was convinced that it was his snoring that did the trick. Tessa soon curled up as well, leaning against Jordan like a cat. Eventually, Jordan fell asleep too.

Mark paced back and forth all night, wearing a track into the ground from the fire to a tree some ten meters away. He debated whether or not he should abandon the quest and go back to Magonalt or if he should stay and complete the trip like Charles told him to.

For one thing, it was dangerous. Leaving Martha and Easton on their own felt wrong, even though he knew they would be well taken care of by the healer. Even with that, a million things could go wrong. The healer could get hurt. Martha and Easton could insist on staying in the warehouse rather than in Kasibat's home. One of them might get sick. The two of them might decide to follow him. Any number of tragedies might strike if they decided to leave the city.

A voice in in the back of his mind told him that the people sleeping so peacefully near him would think him a coward if he left them now, but he could live with that–he wouldn't ever see them again if he went back to Magonalt. He could live with them never speaking to him again. Then he remembered–it was more likely that they wouldn't survive long enough to think him a coward. The plague victims would ensure that.

The two girls, curled up on top of each other like interlocking puzzle pieces would be hunted through the desert until they collapsed from exhaustion and were either turned into monsters or killed. Wesson, much as Mark disliked his grouchiness, would very likely not not make it through the adventure for many of the same reasons.

And yet...

The nagging feeling that the werian twins needed him persisted. He couldn't very well take them with him. It was too dangerous for children on a journey like this. The long hours alone would drain them. But the fear that plague victims would invade Magonalt and kill the two children lurked in the back of his mind.

Mark wasn't a killer. It was his philosophy that only certain crimes were even worthy of death. He wasn't one to consign another person to death, even if it was indirectly. Leaving Wesson, Tessa, and Jordan on their own to make the journey to Howling Castle was too dangerous without a guide. Kasibat Terracin could take care of the children.

Thus, he decided, he would have to stay.

☀

For the next week, they rode steadily east. They still didn't run into very much trouble, only minor difficulties. Plague victims never found them. Tessa proved her worth by singlehandedly scaring off a pack of wild dogs near a tiny town that was so small it wasn't even on the maps. Jordan repaired a pair of wagons in another village, which was more like a handful of huts huddled together against the constant plains wind. That earned them enough food to get to the border of the desert.