My Mother Divinity [Unedited]

Chapter Twelve

The hounds lick at Watson's feet. They're starting to starve because the men have been less than kind with their servings of meat lately, preferring to keep any scraps they find to themselves. One dog caught a mouse and ripped its spine out, growling and snapping at the rest of the pack when they tried to share the feast. The money and morale is running out.

Following the girl might have been a mistake. It was made clear after a little persuasion from George and Lenny that she was headed south to try and find her mother. Watson thought it ridiculous that she would abandon her journey and double back alone to search for a lost relative - it would be a cold case, just like anything is a cold case these days because there are no laws as such, and nobody cares what happens to anyone that isn't in their immediate circle.

And in fact, the Gods told him they shouldn't follow the whole trail. Apparently there was nothing of interest that concerns them where she went to, the village she lived in. They were commanded to keep their distance and wait for her next move. It's obvious there's something going on, something hidden from him to keep him playing the game. But he'll win the game even if it kills him in the end.

She went to Edinburgh. The Gods were also cagey about this. The God of Servitude held them up by demanding the sacrificing of two of their hounds, and that was an easy task and didn't require much time or effort, but then came more silence. Silence, always, is a pain in Watson's ass. Many times he's considered abandoning the whole thing, of course, but never before has he been so close to breaking point. It's Tierney who he requires to be constantly around and raising his spirits. Sometimes he wonders if that man will be there to raise him from the dead too just to finish this damn thing.

Edinburgh is, admittedly, not a city any of the five men know well. They went over the Queensferry Crossing and have made it to Dalmeny. The firth glistens with patches of sea foam and sewage, and plastic wrappings hit the shore with a gentle beg. It will take them an eternity on this wretched planet to disintegrate. Soft and noiseless, the materials collapse just as many of the buildings near the shore have eroded too without maintenance.

"I don't know why we still keep the stupid mutts," scoffs Bates. Tierney, Watson and himself are huddled over a fire they've built inside a tyre as dusk settles. The other two men are having a drink down the road, silent and brooding. "I suppose they do well for a sacrifice. But..."

He's thinking about how dead dogs don't bring you a reward. It's MacDonald's fiery demise that gave them the horses which are nestling down under the cover of trees in a local park. The area is largely abandoned and when the cover of darkness is complete, they'll break into a house to find somewhere to sleep. One blissful night without the tents and sleeping bags - it's appreciated as winter approaches.

"But we have dead weight," Tierney finishes for his coworker. Watson eyes up the two men who are oblivious to their conversation. He wonders indeed what would happen if they cut off some extra ties. Would the Gods cooperate more with them then? There's no telling, and if they can't be sure of something then they'll have to avoid making any rash decisions.

"We should pray," suggests Bates, "we haven't done that in a while." He looks at Watson quickly, like he's blaming their lack of success lately on the team leader. Watson sets his jaw into a firm crunch and says nothing. It's not his fault, the way things are panning out. It still makes no more sense to him than it does to the rest of them.

He doesn't know why the Gods seem intent on almost, what, protecting the girl? How ludicrous. Why send them all this way just to let her go? It won't happen. They'll get to her eventually, with divine intervention or not.

"God of Enlightenment," starts Bates, scrunching his eyes shut in concentration, "we seek answers—"

"We're not going to get any." Watson moves away from the fire and pulls his coat further across his torso. The buttons have come loose and it's slightly hanging off of him now, too wide to accommodate for the weight he's lost. He goes to the park where the stallions are, unapologetically massive and proud and free and everything he's not. He sits on one of the swings and wants to be left alone.