A Hunter's New Home

Training Under The Moonlight

"Horace, does Ms. Cynthia hate us?"

Horace stopped the ax mid-swing right above the half-cut log. He turned to address his sister, sweat making running down his head, "What?"

Gloria kicked at the ground while fiddling with her long hair. Her eyes were pointed towards the earth, but her lip quivered nervously as she waited for his answer. Horace looked at the half-cut log, then the pile of untouched ones littering the ground to his right. With a sigh, he dropped the ax before answering, "No, of course not."

"You sure?" his sister's eyes remained on the ground as he walked to her side.

"Yeah," Horace rubbed his arms to drive the pain away, "I mean, she never said she did. Why are you asking anyway?"

"Because she's left us. Again. With strangers. Again."

"Well, yeah."

"Why does she keep doing that? Does she not want us?"

"That's not it, Gloria."

"Then what is it? Did we do something bad?"

Horace thought he heard the sound of a sniffle and dashed to his sister's side. He immediately hugged her while shaking his head, "No, no, no, that's not it at all. It's just...well...Ms. Cynthia is really busy..."

The boy's eyes scan the area behind his sister, jumping around in a panic as he searches for something to say. His eyes moved from the sky to the earth and stopped on the rectangular backside of the manor that had become her home. The orange light from the setting sun danced like fire along the stone exterior. Their movements were strangely hypnotic and made the house look even more inviting in comparison to cutting wood out here.

Words came to him as his eyes widened in revelation, "She's...busy fighting bad people."

His sister pulled back a bit to look him in the eyes, her head tilted in confusion, "Bad people?"

"Like the ones she saved us from," Horace kept going with a nervous smile on his face, "you remember when she came back for us after she bought us? And what about when she came upstairs last night? You remember the...the noise, right?"

Gloria shook a bit, slowly nodding as echoes of the sounds from the night before rung in her ears.

"That's what she's out doing! Fighting bad people who want to hurt us and others. She doesn't hate us, she's just busy making sure we're safe. So, there's no need to cry. Everything will be. I promise."

His sister doesn't respond at first. Then she leans forward and rests her head on his shoulder, gripping his shirt with both hands. A short sigh escaped her as in a small voice she said, "Ok."

She could tell he was just trying to make her feel better. He knew she could. But he didn't know what else to say. He wanted to believe that Ms. Cynthia loved them. That her taking them in was a random act of kindness. She had done so many things for them since she found them in the Slums. Given them a home, given them clean clothes, washed them and made sure they were safe.

But despite all that, their doubts wouldn't abate. Because they had been lied to before.

And Horace wouldn't put Gloria through it again.

He hugged his sister as tight as he could, while his eyes focused on the back of their new home. Jet came around the left corner of the house and called for them. Told Gloria to go inside, watching her run back the entire way. When she was far enough, he moved back to the stump, picked up the ax, and started cutting into the log again.

When he finally split the first one in half, he immediately moved to the next, even as Jet started calling his name again.

Spencer woke to the rough, familiar feeling of his back on the ground. He groaned as his mind caught up with his body as his nerves tried to get his limbs moving again. The sound of crackling and popping made him toss and turn uncomfortably, the smell of burning wood filling his nose.