Chapter 893: A Mother’s Love
"What remains of your Queen’s soul has been dragged away!" Caera glared at the duo.
Hearing this, their eyes widened.
While Caera has been away, they’ve made sure nothing could disturb their Queen.
And yet...
Her soul’s been dragged away?!
Frida turned pale while Sigurd frowned.
"No one approached. We didn’t sense anything either." He clenched his fists as Caera held back several curses she wanted to say and let the two of them go.
To be fair, she didn’t notice either until she scanned Verona’s body. With these two not wanting to disturb their Queen, finding this out would be rather difficult.
Biting her nail, Caera paced back and forth.
"Good news is that even though her soul has been dragged away, the connection with her body remains intact. It’s not a complete severance of the soul and body.
"More like putting her soul elsewhere for safekeeping while her body continues to function." Caera explained.
The main question was... Where?
Where was her soul taken and who took it.
"Forget it, help
stabilise her condition for now. I have a way to supplent her soul but doing it now might cause this anomaly to strengthen instead. We’ll preserve her body and trace the connection back to the soul." Caera ordered as Sigurd nodded his head.
Turning to Frida, he sighed and helped her up.
"Snap out of it. Verona needs us right now."
Opening her mouth, Frida hesitated before simply nodding her head.
###
When I was a little girl, trapped in the north, all I knew was the everlasting winter that haunt these lands.
The brutal winter that never seed to end.
Snow filled my vision, the grey that painted the sky, the snow that swallowed my world whole. Layers upon layers of white stretched far in every direction I could see.
We didn’t live.
Rather... we endured the harsh winters. We did what we can to persist another day.
"The storm should end soon."
"Tomorrow will be a warr day."
"The wind slowed down, we should be fine tomorrow."
Promises of tomorrow felt ever so sweet. To the children of the north, ’Tomorrow’ was a paradise free from the storms.
As children of the North, our first emotion, our first lesson, was the lesson of Hunger.
Our ever present companion that follows us with every step.
Hunger that makes the knees weak, Hunger that drives man insane.
With the storm that ravaged the North destroying our farmland, there was little food to be passed around. We had to do what we could.
My father was a Hunter and my mother a Farr.
With the farms destroyed, my mother kept
safe while my father rushed out to get food.
The n in the village ford hunting groups, they hunted what little beast or animal that remained in these harsh winters. So who had the blessings of the Abyss ventured deeper into the winter.
So would co back, so were lost forever.
But we endured.
While my father was out hunting, those who remained in the village tried to ration food as best they could.
We ate whatever we could get our hands on. Trees, roots, dried leaves roasted by the camp fire.
How young was I when I first tasted the bark of a tree?
My mother taught
to scrape only the inner layer of the bark.
The outer layer was too tough, eating it would cut my gums, tear my throat.
We would spend days peeling strips from the wood we found nearby and boiling them in a pot of snow. Once the snow lted, only water remained and we made soup of the bark.
Biter, tough.
I chewed... Chewed and chewed.
Sotis I would throw up, coughing up the water I had drank but I continued to eat.
Even now, I can still rember the taste of wood and dirt in my mouth.
My mother’s face as she was forced to feed
bark.
When als were done, I would spend the ti next to the fire, looking out at the storm ravaging the world outside.
I would see flickers of light from houses opposite us. Silhouettes of people trying their best to survive.
There were a few monts where the storm would die down enough for us to go out without worry.
But no one did.
Playing would cause the hunger to increase.
The children simply looked at one another from behind the windows.
One ti, I saw one of our neighbours walking through the snow.
A lady no older than my own mother.
She trudged through the snow before collapsing on the ground.
I simply watched as she struggled but eventually stopped moving.
The snow that piled on top of her...
I don’t know how long it took. But when I tried to find the lady once more from behind my window, I saw drag marks leading to one of the houses.
Soone must’ve brought her away.
As we continued to use the wood for both food and fire, the forest nearby continued to retreat further and further away.
From quick trips to long hours.
It got to the point where going to the forest might take half a day.
And I waited for my mother to co back.
I don’t rember much of my father. The Hunts always took the longest. They venture far and wide in search of any tracks they could find. Whenever they find prey, they would co back to the village to share the food with people.
But as the storm continued, even beasts beca rare.
My father’s face at that ti... I don’t rember it.
After the trees, we instead ate wild roots. We used what little tools we could get our hands on and dug at the ground.
We boiled the roots, tricking our body into thinking it’s food. All so that we could live for another day.
Our village was a remote one. Trying to find hope from outside was impossible. Not in this storm.
When we couldn’t find roots, we started to eat whatever we could get our hands on. Anything that could be boiled and softened enough to be swallowed.
Old shoes, belts, and scraps of clothing.
It was disgusting, it made
cry. But I continued to eat because I was scared of death.
My mother was worried. Worried about the food even though she was nothing but skin and bones. Her hollow cheeks, sunken eyes.
My father hasn’t returned for a long ti now.
No fresh wood, no bark to eat. No spare clothing.
We were even careful with when we used our fire. Only doing so when we couldn’t stand the cold anymore.
Just for a little while.
Just for a short mont.
Comfort was a luxury, losing yourself in it ant death.
While waiting for my father, I found myself dipping in and out of sleep.
Well... Sleep wasn’t accurate. My body was giving up. I simply didn’t have the strength to open my eyes.
My mother would always hold
so I woke up comfortably.
We huddled together, sharing blankets and boiling what remained as food. Even though we needed the clothing to shield us from the cold, we were forced to eat it.
. . .
. . .
I woke up to the sll of at.
My mother was making so soup.
"Your father ca back last night with so at. There aren’t much so we have to be careful okay? He’s gone out to look for so more for us."
I couldn’t quite rember my mother’s smile. I simply waited hungrily by the side.
And once the food was done, I devoured it with everything I had, not caring about how hot the soup was.
My mother patted my head while singing a song. Her gentle voice while watching
eat.
The taste of at after all this ti... I loved it.
My mother packed everything my father brought back carefully just outside the door of our house. Concealed under the snow so that the cold could preserve it.
Whenever hunger dominated my mind, whenever I couldn’t hold on anymore, my mother would leave the house to retrieve the at.
She would sing songs to , promising
a better tomorrow.
A day where these storms end will co soon.
Soon.
Then... One day... My mother collapsed.
I stumbled to her side and tried to lift her up.
But she shook her head.
No more stories.
No more songs.
Her last words to ...
"Listen to ... When you’re hungry and can’t hold on anymore... use mommy okay? A little at a ti... Only... Only when you can’t hold on anymore... A little at a ti... Just a little... When you can’t hold on..."
She kept repeating these words and I saw.
Frozen blood against her clothes and... her body.
What remains of it.
Her final words...
She raised her hand and cupped my cheek.
Her fingers brushing against my hair.
"I love you."
Her tears froze against her cheeks.
. . .
I never heard anything from my mother since then.
I did as she told .
A little at a ti...
Just a little...
When I couldn’t hold on.
Use mommy.
A little at a ti...
Just a little...
A little...
Use... mommy.
My father returned.
He was injured but managed to return with three others. The other hunters from the village had died but he managed to return.
I didn’t have the energy to welco him back.
I simply stared at him from under what remains of my blanket. The bloodied knife next to .
He collapsed on his knees with a laugh, a cry.
He didn’t scream, he didn’t shout. He simply cradled my mother.
I woke up the next day and followed my mother’s advice.
I did as she told .
A little at a ti.
Just a little.
And when I couldn’t hold on...
I used daddy who slept forever next to mommy.
Reviews
All reviews (0)