Otter Creek innocent iii

the prophet continues onward. he knew not if the heathens trailed him still; he had not seen signs of them in days.
this night, he had slept in a hole he dug from deep mountain snow, and he awoke with an inescapable thirst and a new stiffness to his joints.
when he looks at his reflection in the ice coating the creek, he is graying. he can see the pepperings of silver upon his chin. he is aging, he is rotting from the inside out — he did not think god would allow this!
but god is always testing. always creating diversions, and he will not be able to run forever. he must form a plan. for now, he hangs his head between his elbows, and prays in silence.

Hope you don't mind me..

Ana strayed further from Brecheliant with each day, exploring the mainland with the zeal of any child on an extended trip away from home. She would return to the sea one day, she assumed. To the island, even, if they would have her back. But lingering on those thoughts only filled her with a nauseated sort of sadness, and so Anathema tried to focus on her current reality.

It was definitely strange. The strangest part was the water, she thought; it wasn't salty at all, anywhere. She'd taken to wandering between every water source she could find, dunking her face into the ones that weren't frozen to test the saltiness. So far no luck. And there was a man lingering at this one, a man she'd never seen. Ana clicked at him merrily as she walked past, strolling right up to the ice to tap a paw against it. Frozen. But maybe she could break the ice if she just —

Ana headbutted the ice with full force.

never!! apologies for his fucking creepiness

he hadn't noticed her, at first; he had not broken his prayers, not until the whiff of something sweet came to his nostrils.
girl. woman. no, not quite woman. not quite child either. he had never seen anything quite like her.
she whacks her skull against the ice like a braindead, prehistoric bone-crusher. his instinct is to correct. to — help. you are going to hurt yourself, bambina, he slinks over on long black limbs like a great reaper. his claws, overgrown, sharp-edged; perfect for cracking the ice just well enough for her to drink with a quick strike of his paw. is this what you wanted?

Ana had expected it to hurt. Maybe some part of her had wanted it to hurt, though she did not and would not know how to put these feelings to words for some time. She shook her head a little, blinking as she turned big seaglass eyes on the man. For a moment she stared at him. Then back to the water. Then him again.

To his question, she nodded. Then, quiet and oddly toneless: I don't care if I hurt myself. She dipped her head to taste the water and was disappointed to find it saltless.

Again she looked to the man. You looked sad. Why?

you should, child. the reaper watches as she begins to take slow laps from the current. you are much too young to let your life be wasted.
too young, too young; as his own children had been. his eyes flicker as a burning memory passes him by. and you are much too young to be concerned with such things.
turning, now, to face her. their gazes meet and his pupils dilate with a surge of hunger. do you ever look at the stars and wonder if there is more out there beyond them?

Their eyes locked, feverish silver to sharp seaglass; unblinking now. Her breath turned shallow. Something stirred behind his gaze, something keen and grasping that she did not understand. No one had ever looked at her that way before.

She was afraid.

Ana nodded again, slowly this time. The stars and the sea; each night in her dreams they fell together and broke into a thousand shards, and behind the glass countless eyes blinked in countless colors like so many shining gems. Always watching. Always. She knew them as surely as she knew her own blood and heart and veins. And she was afraid — but she could never look away.

the fear radiates from her skin like the heat of midsummer. he drinks from it.

not now, not now, not yet!

where is your family, bambina? hadn't they told her never to talk to strangers? his head tilts, crowlike, curious. enthralled. i'm sure they're worried by now, or will be soon. look at the sky, he points with the sharp cut of his muzzle. the sun is rising.

god has led you to me!

Her family. The island. The cut of grief was quick and deep, bloodless for the moment. Gone, Ana said simply. What more was there to say?

But her eyes followed his gesture to the sky. Daylight; she blinked at last and realized quite belatedly that her eyes were throbbing and sticky with lack of sleep. She felt abuzz, filled with so much restless energy that the very thought of sleep ached. More than sleep she needed rest, but there was no rest for her, not anymore.

Her gaze found his once more in the silence. Crimson, finally welling; she was not aware that she was crying until the tears fell into the fur at her cheeks.

gone.
it stung, that soft, downtrodden confession. so young, so young. mine are, too. that is why i was sad. shaba. iris. wren. their faces are blurry in his mind, but he can still feel them.
but you should know that they are not really gone, cucciolotta, he leers, now, craning his neck toward her in a way that felt alien with its sincerity. you can still speak to them. would you like to learn how?

Her tears were shortlived, always; there and then gone like a hot flash of lightning, like the beginning of a sneeze and nothing more. In their wake Ana felt abruptly cold and removed from herself. She felt —

tilting at the edge of an endless drop, she felt spinning in the wind and far beyond control, she felt a million miles above the earth and gone

and she was still, and her breaths came slow. He was still talking. That man. She'd almost forgotten him, but he was still there and still talking. An anchor now; an insistent drone filling her head. It almost hurt. Would you like to learn how? Ana wasn't sure she did. But she didn't want to be left alone — and he understood her, didn't he?

Yes.

i will show you the way i taught my daughters to speak to their nonna, after she left us. for the first time, andras offers a smile, like the jagged cut of a dull knife.
he turns so that he may face the warmth of the sun, and encourages her to do the same. his shoulders straighten, his ears swivel, and after a moment, his eyelids flutter to a close.

let us pray;

Redeemer,

see this child standing before me at Your altar, this lost sister in dire need!

show her Your guidance. take her hand and give a message to those who reside in Your kingdom, those she has lost!

show to her the very same love that You have given to me. show to her that there is light in darkness. show to her that there is peace in chaos.

show to her that there is life in death.

the silence chills him. speak to Him, child. He is listening.

He smiled at her, and her heartbeat filled her ears. She turned, but she didn't want to know. She didn't want to see her family again. They weren't her family, they weren't hers, they weren't her. Ana Tema Redhawk; the girl who never was. She knew what she was. The Anathema.

The Anathema.

Trembling silence and pinprick pupils and his voice in her head, in her eyes and nose and mouth and it felt like choking. He was talking to God. Her legs shook and then faltered and folded slowly beneath her. Speak to Him. She didn't want to. God never loved her, not her, ugly twisted little thing that she was. Twice abandoned. Daughter of a witch. Cursed. The Anathema.

Ana buried her face in her forelegs and screamed.

he knows rejection of the truth when he sees it. the girl all but shatters before him, crumbling, tumbling down the slope, and he can do nothing but watch.
he wished to comfort her, to scoop her into his embrace and show her the fuzziness of times now left to rot in the back of her mind. but he could not; would not. it was not for him to do. not yet.
ultimately, faith was in her hands.
it's okay to let it out, his voice is calm, soft as velvet. but perhaps instead of being angry with Him for not answering your call, you should wonder whether or not you are shouting loud enough.

He hears me.

Her voice was a thin whisper, her throat raw and aching. Anathema kept her face pressed against her legs, still trembling. He just doesn't care. Because there's something wrong with me. Nobody wants me. Not even Him, God didn't love girls like her. God loved girls like Dinah, perfect girls born to beauty and light and love. Ana had never truly known the place of her birth, and still she could not escape it. It was part of her. Black waters in her veins. She was so cold.

that's not true, andras tsks with a click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He loves His children. He would not have created you if He did not love you.
a soft breath, quiet and keening. but maybe He is trying to tell you something. maybe you have strayed from His chosen path for you, and He is trying to lead you back toward it with His silence.
his muscles jump and shudder with an excitement he can hardly contain. he had not felt a rush such as this in moons; too long, much too long. on the outside he maintains the wall of stone. is there somebody who you are jealous of?

Why would God create something like her? Silence, silence ever since the day of her birth; how could she tell this man that she did not know she would even recognize God's voice? Ana thought again of Dinah, who would have known. Then of Heda, who had left her behind.

Left her. But not Dinah, never Dinah.

Yes, She confessed after a small silence, voice brimming with bitterness. Her name is Dinah. She likes flowers, and she has blue eyes and parents who love her. And I'll never be anything like her. Ana finally lifted her muzzle to rest it on her paws. Her eyes found the sky again.

I hurt someone, once. I think I wanted to kill him.

her name was dinah.
and to you, she is a good example of godliness, si? the wraith chirps, voice made of gravel; one paw reaching for her shoulder in the way that a father might. perhaps you could learn something from her. learn the ways to obey Him. after a while, it will come naturally to you. the way it did for all of her kind. and it will benefit you. it will make you much happier, wouldn't it? to do as He wishes? his lips split into a slicing grin. to feel His love? to not hurt anymore?
she had hurt someone, she says. he quiets as his thoughts take him elsewhere. he thinks the devil has taken hold of her.

god brought her to him for salvation.

it must be frightening, that bloodlust, he nods solemnly. but you have a choice. you may embrace it, or,

you may free yourself from sin.