Emberflame Ridge Hollow's Lantern

This is an ugly country.

He hates the way the too-deep shade never relinquishes rays of sunlight. He hates how the air is dank and windless and never offers relief from stifling heat. He hates the piercing cries of corvids, and the all-encompassing chorus of leaves. The ground is hard and packed, there is no sand, there is no ocean, there is no joy.

This is a sad place.

His skin is welted from its battle with a field of mountain laurels. Judah rips out another chunk of scratching fur from his arm and grits his teeth.

His relationship with @John is strange. He could recognize that this pastor was a good man. There was a level of trust between them. But in his developmental months alone, Judah had lost the language that linked him to wolf-kind. Without his siblings for guidance, he was awkward and savage, never quite knowing what to say or how to act. So he didn’t bother with trying to reign in how he felt.

A clock beat over the face of the sun. Somewhere south of the minute hand was mom and Ava.

The journey over and across the mountains was a hard one. The sun laid on their back the whole way, as soon as they began their ascent. Around them were corvids, their cries haunting, the ground hard on a wolf’s soft paw pads, John’s were especially sore. Conversation was sparse between the two men, but yet the silence opened up an awareness, with John’s ears swiveling at each sounds, from the birds on high, to the crumbling pebbles of the mountain the climbed.

Judah was itching himself, ripping out chucks of fur, and although John wasn’t a petty man, the itching and biting had become annoying. He let out a sigh, “When I traveled to the island, I went around these mountains. Although I did have to cross a swamp, and that wasn’t pleasant.” 

John then stopped, to take break, to breathe, even though the air was muggy and hardly breathable. His panting had become quicker,  in an effort to cool himself. “I just need a few minutes, Judah. It wouldn’t hurt for you to take a brief break too.”

He has to admit their pace was unbearable. It is the one he set, and stubbornly, had refused to resign since they left the island three days ago. The boy nods wordlessly, spent, and collapses onto the hard ground with a yawning breath. An elbow hooks around his hind leg and yearling teeth begin to gnaw at his ankle incessantly.

“How much farther?” Eager eyes flick up to John's granite gaze as he smacks his fangs against skin.

The young yet strong boy finally gave into the fatigue from their journey.

From where John sat, he watched Judah itch himself, and itch, and itch. John, merely by impression, had began to himself, bringing his back foot forward and bending back to itch his neck and ears.

He quit his itching when he heard Judah speak, which was certainly an occasion in itself these days. “Not too far now. I think within a day and a half at least, we can make it to the bypass.” He told him, looking around and towards the direction in which the sun had risen from. “Once twilight closes in, and the light fades, we will stop and rest, then carry on at the crack of dawn.”

There was a moment of pause, before John made a comment: “Itching it aggressively will only make it worse. But I understand it’s hard to resist the itch.” And he chuckled, lightening himself up a bit.

“I’m itchy all over,” he mutters, teeth grinding at another patch of flaking skin. He looks down at his legs, dark in the fading light, and imagines his skin crawling with bugs underneath.

He sighs and drops his head into the crackling of late summer leaves. The pastor’s words are a temporary distraction.

“John… do you think mom actually wants to see me?” From the ground he gives the man a frail look . “It’s been… so long. Dinah says she’s got a new family now and-

“You should have seen her face that day, John. She was so mad at Dad. Maybe she just wants to forget about everything.”

About me.

The frail eyes of the boy brought a solemn look to his own features; Is this what he truly believed? That his mother wished to forget all of them, that his mother wouldn’t want to see her children? Preposterous, he thought, yet he wouldn’t speak aloud. And when he mentioned that Dinah said that their mother had a new family?! This was certainly news to John, and it was evident in the small gasp that let from his maw.

“Judah.” He began, after gathering himself, “Of course she does. Without a sliver of a doubt” — “After losing everyone, it seemed as if your mother’s spirit had been broken, her heart was in many pieces.” The recollection of what Heda had been like brought wet to his stormy sea eyes, but there was a deep caring there. “She hadn’t spoken a single word, she was silent. Because of this, Dinah took charge, and she made most of the decisions for your mother. This weighed very heavily on Dinah, she wasn’t happy either.”

There was a long pause then, quiet between them, the wind rustled his fur, perhaps a wind of change.

“Um, Judah…what exactly do you mean? By a new family.” This wasn’t brain science, the whole “why”, but John didn’t recall Heda courting anyone, much less marry another time. There were at least a couple of men in the camp, the husband of Heda’s sister, Druid, and visitors. 

He waited for an answer, and if Judah could give one.