COMPLETED
"Let me see your face."
Savage, fierce, unforgiving, the world of the Far North is nothing like the land of Dunes where Bessa was birthed.
From the first moment Bessa's feet touch the Far Northern land she has to fight tooth and claw for...
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Bessa crumples in the corner.
The fabric of her veil clings to her face, soaking in the stench of her salt. Flexing the flesh of skin, the Wild is demanding to comfort his mate. Taking a step towards Bessa, her eyes dig into mine. A deconstructed hatred paws out, so pure that I take a step back.
Loading logs into the stove, the crackling of the fire hushes her sound but not her reek of salt. Her pain is felt deep within the cavity of my chest. The effort to breath is challenged - it's suffocating. Her truth pours out - I get to soak it all in. Drowning in her hatred. Endurance is listening to Bessa cry herself to sleep, even in her dreams her tears don't stop, they saturate the inside of this house until all I can breathe in is her misery, despair, and sorrow. The night stalks slowly darker and darker, there is no sleeping, as soon as my eyes shut is when I gasp for breath because Bessa can't breathe. She wakes clutching her chest, I do the same to mine. Getting up early, loading the stove once again before slipping into the barely-there morning.
"Borson," my father steps on the trail. Hands full of geese that should be making their way to their winter grounds in the south.
"Father."
"If you're going to the lake, the flock left this morning. This was all that was left of them." His hands raise full of his bounty.
"Why are you hunting? Did you not bring enough in this summer?" A snaking fear coils itself around my ankles, keeping me in my place.
"My stocks are full, this is for the Elders. This will be my last winter as their provider, and I want to provide all I can." There is a shove to his words.
"We will be competing for the same game then?"
"I suppose we will be. May your hunt be successful."
"Father, I have nothing. My cupboards are bare. I have nothing to provide Bessa for the winter. I can't compete for food against you this winter." Showing him my empty hands while his are full.
"You have all the skills you need to hunt. I suggest you start hunting everything you can catch." A seriousness takes form in the hard press of my father's eyes.
"You made it through your juvenile trials, this will be no different."
"It's different. I have a mate." The words stick in my throat.
"You have always had a mate." His words hook themselves to the skin. The weight of shame pushes my feet into the cold ground - cutting into the ability to look directly into my father's eyes.
"There will be nothing left here if you hunt." It's a struggle not to cry.
"There are always things left, you have to look harder to find them."
"You're condemning Bessa to death."
"No, I'm not. You are condemning Bessa to death if you believe I am the cause of your starvation."
