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guardian-of-da-gay · 4 months ago

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Familial Curse

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For Whumptober 2024 Prompt 3: Familial Curse

tw for arranged marriage, dubious cultural practices, war, violence, dismemberment, nuanced female character

Growing up, Lara-le knew she would marry Locke and have children with him just as surely as she knew the sun would rise and the war for the Master Emerald would rage on.

Their match was a combined effort between the high priestess, who read their compatibility through their moon signs, the head healer who mapped the bloodlines to find safe passages, and their parents, who made sure their children would join with an honorable family. They were engaged as infants. None of them knew then that he would be one of the few certainties in a life of uncertainties.

When she was very young the owl chief was slain in battle. This had happened many times before, but they celebrated the victory nonetheless. Then the new owl chief, Blackdown, rose to power and the tides of the war shifted. Blackdown was a bloodthirsty leader. This too, was familiar to her people, but not in many generations.

The first raid was a shock. What Lara-le remembered most was her sister digging a tunnel so they could escape their burning home and flee into the forest. In the days that followed she saw adults cry for the first time as they were forced to leave their home and forge a new settlement.

As soon as their temporary homes were up, training began for the little ones. Her uncle would grab her tight and press her into the dirt until she could scarcely breathe, digging blunt hooks into her back. Then, in the same gentle tone he used to teach her to scale fish or dig for truffles, he walked her through escaping an owl’s grip. Cries that she could not breathe were ignored. An owl would not let her go. She had to learn this. It could be the difference between life and death.

She hated it. And what was worse? It didn’t work.

The second raid, her sister tried to save her once again, wrapping her arms around her and shielding her as the owl pounced cat-like upon them. It was nothing like her uncle’s training; she couldn’t even draw breath to cry out. The owl’s talons weren’t blunt hooks, they were curved knives. One speared her side, the other three went into her sister. A warrior threw the owl from them and it was all Lara-le could do to drag her sister out from under their feet.

Only one healer survived the raid. In the time it took him to come to their aid, Lara-le watched her sister’s violet eyes grow dull as her life blood drained out. Lara-le survived her injury, but would forever struggle to hold herself straight, fighting against the tough scar that marred her side. The impairment wasn’t severe, but between that and the scarcity of healers, it was enough to end her unstarted role as a warrior. By the time the next raid hit, she was a healer’s apprentice.

As she grew into her role Lara-le found herself more and more wondering if things looked different from the battlefield. If she could feel the thrill of victory herself perhaps she would see the war as worthwhile. Instead all she saw was the losses: damaged bodies, dead people, and grieving families. What was it all for?

“The Master Emerald,” Locke told her like she’d asked a silly question.

“Yes, but why?” She asked. “What will it do for us? Restore our honor? Is it worth so much suffering?”

Locke tried to hide his discomfort. “There will be no more suffering once we have the Master Emerald back,” he said with surety. “The owls will be cowed by its power and we can use it to raise Angel Island from the sea once more. We will be safe there.”

Lara-le scowled. She wasn’t sure she believed the old stories of a flying island. And even if it were true–the owls had taken it from there once, surely they could again? What would befall her people then?

Locke didn’t understand. He listened, yes, but it was the same as when he brought her flowers or food or trinkets. It was an effort to please her. He wasn’t really hearing what she said. When she complained to her mother, she just said that it was better to have a betrothed who wanted to please you than one who didn’t care at all. Lara-le thought her mother didn’t hear her either.

The only one who could understand her was another apprentice. His name was Wynnemacher. Like her, he could not be a warrior. His eyes did not work right and he could only see a few feet in front of himself. But he could see enough to realize the devastation of their people alongside her and feel her dismay.

Lara-le might have snuck a look at the head healer’s bloodline maps just to see if there was a possibility… But she was disappointed. Ever since the raids had started cutting down the number of women in the tribe, the head healer’s maps had become more important than any other determining factor. It didn’t matter what her or Wyn’s moon signs were or what their families thought of each other. Their lines were one step too close for the head healer to ever approve.

Lara-le pushed it aside. It had been a moment of fancy. Like drinking salt-water. It seemed appealing, but it simply wasn’t an option.

And Locke wasn’t so bad. He worked to earn her affections. He made sure that she and her mother had anything they needed. While he might not have understood her mind, she could speak it freely. Which was more than she could say for most of her tribe as her feelings slowly became known. Some thought he would ‘calm her down’, but he never tried to tame her. He said he admired her stubbornness and appreciated the courage it took to say what she wished even when no one else agreed. Yes, even him.

These, she thought, were traits she could learn to love.

She married Locke during a long stretch of no raids. This seemed a fair omen. Still, she made Locke promise before the wedding that her children would be healers like her. They needed more able-bodied healers, she argued. What she really hoped was that she could have children safe from battle.

Locke promised her what she wished. The next day, he promised his life to her.

They agreed having a child when things seemed peaceful was best and hurried to have their first one. She laid her first egg with no issue, but had a long period of melancholy afterward. She worried what sort of world she was bringing her child into. What fate had she resolved them to simply by forcing them to exist? What if the raids started just as this tiny life began? Should she have just run away with Wyn and damned the consequences?!

As a healer, she had coached many women through the same gloom. She felt like a fool now. Saying it was normal and would pass eventually really didn’t help her feel better at all. It was a wonder those women hadn’t struck her. It did pass eventually though.

And then one day she felt a squirming against her belly and knew her little one had hatched in her pouch.

They were so fragile at first. She’d hardly ever seen one at that age except when the healer insisted she needed to for learning purposes. She’d been shocked to find her people started as naked, little, wet rats. When she gently opened her pouch and peered inside she found that her child was the dearest of all the naked, little, wet rats. She told the high priestess and her husband, but no one else got to see her little one just yet.

Her mother had told her to treasure this time when he was this little secret thing. To cherish every little squirm and bump, signs of his health and growth that only she could tell. She found she did treasure it. As much as her fate was dictated by the tribe, the war, the fate of the Master Emerald, this little corner of her life belonged only to her.

But all good things must end. Eventually her child poked his head from her pouch. He was ready to leave… And she was ready too, she supposed. By then, she’d taken to using a cane to keep her side straight and support his extra weight.

Locke was beside himself. He would hold up their child’s hands and tell anyone who’d listen to look–look at these mitts! Aren’t these the biggest you’ve seen? Watch, he’ll be taller than me some day! And his spurs are already started! Have you seen an infant with their spurs started? No, not like this you haven’t!

Lara-le had always liked her husband well enough but watching him with their son made her fall a little in love with him.

On their son’s naming day Locke suggested the name ‘Knuckles’ after the clan that had first brought the Master Emerald to the echidna. They were also a notorious warrior clan, which was not to Lara-le’s taste but… She remembered Locke fawning over the might of their baby’s tiny mitts. She agreed to the name, but that fondness was what it meant to her.

They went to betrothal meetings and chose Knuckles’ bride. Lara-le had no sisters by blood, but found one in Knuckles’ future mother-in-law, Mari-su. She felt content. She didn’t get along with everyone in her tribe, but that was normal. She had a steady husband, a beloved son, and fast friends. Life felt right.

Then everything shifted again. Not from a raid, no. But from a log.

Knuckles learned to crawl very late and then a few days later began to walk. Locke boasted it was because he’d been practicing his steps in his mind all along. Unfortunately, their precocious child abused the freedom his legs gave him to run from his mother and cause all sorts of mischief. On one such occasion, Lara-le was elbow-deep in the dirt digging for fungus alongside some other mothers. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Knuckles and his betrothed chasing something very small.

She lifted her head to make sure it wasn’t anything venomous or toothy. The other keen-eyed mothers followed suit to varying degrees.

The little lizard crawled under a large fallen tree trunk and the puggles toddled after it. Knuckles crouched down where the lizard had disappeared. Lara-le thought he might start digging for it, but instead he reached out and flipped the log over like it weighed nothing, startling everyone, lizard included.

The lizard vanished as all the women stood up, some crying out in alarm.

The cry made Knuckles pause. He became aware that he might be in trouble and rushed to Lara-le for reassurance. One of the women tried to lift the log and couldn’t. But of course, they could not entertain the thought that what they had seen was what really happened. Lara-le wrote it off as a fluke. They all did.

But it wasn’t. As Knuckles became more and more sure of himself, lifting and grabbing things as troublesome puggles did, he showed an impossible strength.

They brought him to the head healer. The head healer took him to the high priestess. She took him before the council of elders. It was then that Lara-le felt afraid.

Her child was special. Gifted in chaos energy in a way their people hadn’t seen since the great and terrible Spectre. With this energy came great physical strength. The high priestess insisted he would need to be trained to control the chaos energy. He should be trained as a priestess! But no, the chief intervened, with his great strength, he must be trained as a warrior. The two argued her son’s fate as though Lara-le weren’t there.

Lara-le’s heart sank the longer they spoke. She was so filled with dread she could hardly find her voice. She turned to Locke. “I want him to be a healer,” she said quietly.

Locke looked pained. “It… seems a shame,” he said. “With a power like his, he could be a great warrior. Maybe even the greatest warrior of our people.”

Her heart sank. “You promised.”

He nodded, though he did not look pleased. “I did…” He turned to the council and spoke up. “I have promised Lara-le that Knuckles would be a healer.”

Chief Pachacamac turned on him. “What are you talking about?”

“The ancestors didn’t give us this blessing for us to squander it,” added the high priestess.

“What she said,” the Chief said. He turned away from them. “I think the priestesshood would squander it too, though.”

The high priestess frowned, but she was clearly considering. “He must be trained to control his chaos,” she said.

“He can train in both. With the warrior training taking precedent,” the Chief said.

The high priestess sighed, but relented. This pleased Pachacamac and he turned to Locke and Lara-le. “It is settled then! He is to be a warrior!... With some priestess training.” He smiled, but it was tense. The unspoken order was clear.

Lara-le looked to Locke. He looked back, apologetic. But he wasn’t really sorry. He’d wanted this afterall, and he’d gotten it without breaking his promise.

Everything changed after that day. Gone were the sleepy mornings bringing her little one along to help with her chores and teaching him all the little things he would need to know to belong in their community. No more playing in the mud with his fiance. He would never again tail Wynnemacher around the healer’s hut.

Instead he went to the high priestess and stayed there his whole morning. Then he was taken away to where the youngest were trained. He was the youngest of all of them and was only returned to her for naps. Once he was awake again he was swept off. She wouldn’t see him again until the communal evening meal, when he would usually be bounced between his grandparents, aunts, and uncles.

She made the mistake of complaining only once. She did not like that he was the sole toddler in a class of young children. How could he possibly learn alongside them when he wasn’t even speaking yet? She hoped that he would be returned to her. Let him train when he was a little older. But instead they withdrew him from the class and passed his training to Locke. This might have seemed the better option except that it filled her with impotent rage. Knuckles was meant to have trained with her .

The high priestess suggested she have another child. She could raise the new one however she pleased. The chief suggested she have another child. It might be as powerful as the first.

The whole tribe grew hungry for a second Knuckles. Locke was oblivious, but Lara-le could sense it. It was her who fielded the polite inquiries about whether she and Locke would ever have more children. She complained to Mari-su and some of the questions stopped, but they never went away.

Part of her ached for another child. A child that could be hers. But would she be allowed to keep one? Knuckles had stayed in her pouch for months before coming out on his own–would the high priestess or chief or council of elders allow a second child to have that secret growing time? Or would he be dragged out right away to have his strength tested? Maybe a second child would not have Knuckles’ power. Maybe she would get to keep them. But she feared having her hopes dashed.

Locke didn’t seem to care either way. He was content with one child to adore and mold after himself. He continued Knuckles’ training.

One day he came to the healers’ tent carrying a tearful Knuckles in one arm and the other set in in a makeshift sling. Knuckles had broken it by accident, he boasted. He seemed surprised by her horror. He hadn’t even scolded the boy! Instead, he held up his bandaged arm and told anyone who’d listen to look–look at this! Would you believe Knuckles did this? Watch, he’ll be breaking cliffs apart soon enough!

It reminded her of how he used to fawn over Knuckles’ mitts. She’d thought it so endearing then, now she felt repulsed.

Lara-le felt she was a passenger on a boat steered by madmen. Perhaps she was mad too, for staying.

Something had shifted between her and her husband. She no longer wished to confide in him. She talked around her thoughts instead, pestering and nagging and poking that he should allow Knuckles less time training and more time on better endeavors–like spending time with her. He would always counter that she should come along. That his and Knuckles’ time could be shared. It was like a shield he used against her anger. Whenever she complained that the high priestess saw her son more, whenever she despaired about what she’d lost with him, whenever she demanded more time, Locke would always ask her to come along to their training. To be a part of something she hated just so she could be near her son.

She acquiesced only once. Knuckles was in his second year and still not speaking. But at Locke’s direction he punched a boulder in half. Then Locke held out his open palms and encouraged Knuckles to strike him. Lara-le thought she might faint when her son hit Locke’s palm. But Locke was unharmed.

“You see,” he said with a smile. “It isn’t all war and danger.” He carried Knuckles to her.

“I want him to be gentle enough to hold his mother’s hand.”

Lara-le did not see the hand offered to her. She could only stare at that broken boulder and feel a strange coldness creep into her heart.

She felt it again, months later. She was meant to retrieve Knuckles from his training at the temple. She saw Locke approaching from a distance. No doubt he would thoughtlessly whisk Knuckles away as soon as he was available. She hurried her pace and arrived there before him.

The high priestess met them at the temple entrance, looking smug. Knuckles’ violet eyes were wide with glee. It softened her mood to see him so happy. He ran toward her, holding something tightly in his fist. He still wasn’t speaking and could only make wordless sounds to express his excitement.

“What is it?” She asked, caught up in his joy. “Let me see.”

He opened his palm to reveal a seed.

She cooed obligingly and he hummed his displeasure. Not the right reaction then.

He stared at the seed. For a moment, she saw nothing, then his lovely violet eyes began to glow red. Lara-le held her breath as red sparks, like lightning, coiled up his arm into the seed. The tiny thing shivered in his palm, then snapped open. A single coil of green curled out. Then it all stopped. The lightning vanished. His eyes became violet again.

He looked up at her expectantly.

That cold feeling stole over her again. Was this… truly from her? Had she made something capable of this? Or was this something the gods or ancestors had dropped in her pouch. Raise this to kill our enemies. Raise this to win the war and take the Master Emerald back.

Knuckles watched her, expectant. But she could only stagger back, completely overwhelmed. Surely no echidna was capable of this. What had she given birth to?

Knuckles stepped toward her, making soft, sad noises. He couldn’t speak. He should have been speaking by now. How could he do such unnatural things but not speak? Their eyes met and he looked away at the seed in his hands. Usually if he looked so distressed, she would comfort him, but she could only think of the way they had glowed. She couldn’t bring herself to touch him.

Locke hurried past her. “Show me, Knuckles,” he said. “I want to see!”

The distress faded from Knuckles’ face in an instant and he held the seed up. Locke cooed obligingly and again, Knuckles made his displeased sounds.

Lara-le turned away when the glowing started again. She couldn’t bear to watch.

When had he ceased to be her child? What had he been replaced by? Or maybe he had always been this way and she’d just tricked herself into thinking that something that came from her belonged to her.

The next time Locke tried to invite her to join a training session, Lara-le snapped at him: “I won’t come watch you hone your weapon. ”

Locke looked at her with open shock. “He’s not a weapon,” he said at last, “he is our son.”

Lara-le could only turn away. She had no words. Maybe Knuckles’ inherited his silence from her.

The next time Knuckles’ had a fit of pique, his eyes glowed and the chaos in him lashed out. Locke braced while Lara-le flinched away. Locke was thrown across the room, but he wasn’t afraid. He rushed back to their shocked son’s side and reassured him that his father was unharmed. Lara-le stood at a distance and watched as he gathered their son in his arms. When at last he looked at her, she could not describe the expression on his face. Suspicion, disappointment, disgust. Like she was the monster here.

A few days later Knuckles faced his first raid. It was a cruel twist of fate that it happened when he was with her.

She and a group of other mothers with small children were gathering tubers from the little cultivated patch the tribe shared. Mari-su was nearby, corralling her children into helping.

Lara-le was on her hands and knees using a spade to cut through the tough ground. Knuckles didn’t need any tool. His powerful fingers could go through the dirt and root tangles with ease. She made him use one anyway. The tool was much too large for him and she found herself distracted by the charming picture: him clumsily hitting the ground with the too-large spade. Like this, he seemed like any other child.

Then the world exploded into light and noise.

Lara-le opened her eyes and found herself lying a little away from where she’d been a second earlier. There was smoke everywhere. An awful, roaring buzz filled the air, loud enough to be heard over the ringing in her ears. Something flew past them, cutting through the smoke. An owl flew behind it.

The village burst into clumsy motion. They had rules for raids. The warriors needed to go for their weapons. The mothers were supposed to take their little ones and flee into the trees. But everyone was half-blind, half-deaf, and choking on smoke. Mothers grabbed the wrong children. Warriors fell into each other.

One of the buzzing monsters flew by, shooting out a net. Lara-le gasped. In an instant, Mari-su was whisked away, vanished into the smoke.

Knuckles began to wail. Lara-le dropped her shovel and grabbed her child. She dodged the spade still in his hands and frantically hobbled for the healer’s hut. They would take the sick and elderly to the hidden burrow there and ride out the attack while the others fled to their own secret hiding places. That was what they were supposed to do.

She was thrown off her feet. The world spun and she staggered upright, her arms empty. A few yards away Knuckles was also getting up, shaking his head. His spade lay between them. An owl flew up behind him.

The world fell away. All thoughts fled as Lara-le grabbed the spade. All thoughts but one: Owl talons were powerful, but their bones were hollow. The owl fell upon her baby and she fell upon the owl. She brought the blade down on its wing. The owl screamed and she struck again. She was thrown back by the other wing. As soon as she hit the dirt she was up again, scrambling across the ground like an animal. The owl staggered away from her crying baby, but Lara-le was possessed. She went after the owl’s wing a third time.

The owl fell one way and its wing fell the other.

Lara-le snatched up her son and ran better than she had since she was a child.

It was only once she’d reached the healers hut and hunkered down in the burrow there that she realized what she’d done. Wynnemacher frantically checked her for injuries, horrified by the blood. Lara-le allowed it, staring down at her son’s tear-stained face.

Was this his future?

This raid was especially bad. The owls had brought allies with weapons unlike anything her people had ever seen. As many as the owls had killed, their allies had stolen.

There was a great debate among the elders–to track down the lost ones now or move the tribe to safety and then go hunting when the trail was cold? In the end, there was no question. The tribe had to leave. Their home was no longer safe.

It would be months before the hunting packs left to find the lost ones. Lara-le was haunted by the loss of her companion. Mari-su was a warrior. Surely she could have escaped on her own by now? But if she had, how would she find their people again? Her husband had gone to find her, but what if another raid forced them to move again? Then the rescue parties wouldn’t be able to find them either!

What would that be like, to never see any of your people again? To lose all you cared about? What would she do if she had to start her life all over again?

Locke was a distraction, but not a helpful one. He thought she was a hero. If she were another person she would have been flattered. Hah! She would have been proud . Instead she had nightmares of the owl screaming as its wing flew off without it. She had saved her baby but she did not feel victorious.

Locke’s admiration disturbed her. He was training Knuckles to do things like this. That disturbed her more.

Without Mari-su, Lara-le turned to her oldest council: her mother.

She sat beside her mother by the fire. The hut was newly built, but everything else was old and familiar. Her mother wove as Lara-le spun yarn and unburdened her woes, just as she had since she was a child. But she was not a child any longer. Her mother already knew everything or at least thought she did. Because Locke had told her.

“Why are you talking with him ?” Lara-le looked up from her task, aghast.

Again, that look. Like Lara-le was the problem. Then her mother’s gaze fell back to weaving. “Because I have known him since he was an infant? Because he is the husband of my only daughter? The father of my only grandchild? Why should I not speak to a member of my own family?”

Lara-le had no reply to that. Hadn’t she integrated with Knuckles’ future bride’s family? And until the raids had claimed her, Locke’s mother had been a fixture of her life too. Her mother had stepped in to fill the role of two grandmothers for Knuckles. Lara-le felt foolish for assuming she wouldn’t look after Locke as well.

She was still disappointed though.

“When do you even see him?” She asked, half-heartedly returning to her spinning, rolling the tool between her hands.

“I go along with Knuckles’ training sometimes,” Mother said. “No–don’t look at me that way. I know it wasn’t what you wanted but it is what is happening, tamahine . I am proud to see what my grandson can do–and he and Locke are always happy to have me.”

Lara-le stared down at the fibers in her hands.

Her mother’s fingers danced across the loom a moment longer before she finally paused. “Lara-le, if you are unhappy with your husband, you do not need to stay. You have fulfilled your obligation to the ancestors and to our tribe’s future. You have a place here if you need it.”

She turned to look at Lara-le and the sight of her looking over from her weaving made Lara-le feel like a child again, but not in a good way. “I only doubt that the council will give Knuckles to you. You have made no secret that you do not care for their decisions. If you leave Locke, you will have less time with your son, not more.”

Lara-le wanted to say that staying with Locke wasn’t even the real problem. Or at least, she didn’t think he was. If things had been different, she thought she would have loved him and they would have had many children all raised to be healers that thought like her. Even with things as they were, she didn’t know that she had the courage to leave Locke. She didn’t always like him as well as she could, but he had always been a steady presence in her life. Like her mother, Locke meant safety. And leaving him would mean losing Knuckles. But her mother had brought up a good point: she would lose her son no matter what she chose.

She returned home late. Locke had already put Knuckles to bed. They had argued over this before: she wanted to see him before he went to sleep, but tonight she did not have the fight in her. Locke watched her as she sat beside their sleeping child and watched him breathe.

Curled in their bed, it was easy to forget everything else. Here he was her little son, just the same as he’d been when she carried him in her pouch. He’d traded his damp, pink skin for fine, red fur and small-but-sharp quills. He had grown so much. He had so much growing left still. Was he truly no longer hers or had she just given up too soon? The rest of the tribe wanted to shape him into something she wouldn’t recognize. Could he be saved? Could she save him?

Lara-le got the ghost of an idea. She drove it back. It was wild. Mad. But like a weed, the roots had taken hold. It kept growing back.

The chief asked for a demonstration of her son’s strength. Their families attended. She felt the loss of Mari-su and her sister more keenly when she looked at the handful of her kin that remained. Could she do this to her people? Could she do this to her family?

She watched Knuckles tail his father everywhere. Even when he was not training, it was Locke he wanted to be with.

Her thoughts shifted: How could it be accomplished? When could she do it? Did she have all she needed?

On the night of a new moon, Lara-le lay awake until Locke’s breathing grew deep. Knuckles made a sleepy, confused noise when she picked him up. She froze as Locke shifted. She stood still as stone for several moments, hardly daring to breathe. Locke did not move again and Knuckles sagged into sleep in her arms. She wrapped herself in her thickest shawl and picked up her cane from its place by the door.

Even before the raids, their village had never gone unguarded. She knew slipping past the sentries would be the hardest part. She also knew that some plants could cause wakefulness while some caused sleep. It had been a simple matter then, to introduce a waking tea to the guards in the weeks leading up to her escape. That night she’d simply laced it with a counteragent to make them sleep.

The second challenge was supplies. But she’d prepared for that as well. She made for the rocky outcrop where they harvest healing herbs. No one but Wynn went out there, and his vision was too poor to see the gray rucksack tucked away in the rocks overhead. As she pulled the bag down from its hiding place, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for that.

She tied the bag over one shoulder and produced a second blanket to tie Knuckles to her chest. Lara-le began her journey feeling greatly weighed down. And not just physically.

Her mind would not quiet. She kept thinking of her mother and Wynemacher. How hurt they would be. Her mother would be shamed too. And Locke? He would be devastated. She didn’t love him, but she didn’t hate him enough to not care how losing Knuckles would affect him. Knuckles was his world.

Would he even… let Knuckles go? Would he let her go? Mari-su’s husband had gone looking. Surely Locke would come after her and Knuckles too. The whole tribe would. The chief wouldn’t let Knuckles go. Would they hunt her as ferociously as they hunted the Master Emerald? Locke wouldn’t hurt her, but what about the rest of them? What would be the punishment for stealing their best weapon?

Doubts crept in as she walked. Was she even helping Knuckles? Or was she just changing his struggles? They would have no tribe to fall back on. No shelter but what she could build, no food but what she could find. If they were attacked, she would be their sole defender. At least she had proven she could take action if her child were threatened. But she was no skilled warrior or hunter. She wouldn’t be able to teach him those skills either.

Knuckles felt heavier and heavier. Her side ached every time she had to readjust the cloth tying them together. His sleep became more fitful and he shifted, making it even harder for her. Finally he woke. He did not like that he did not recognize his surroundings.

He squirmed and it was all Lara-le could do to set him down rather than drop him. She breathed a sigh of relief as she let go.

Knuckles looked around, making confused sounds. Three years old and he still couldn’t speak. Maybe she could change that. They could practice talking instead of fighting.

Knuckles stopped his noises and cocked his head.

Lara-le paused.

She was suddenly reminded that the nighttime belonged to the owls. She listened hard.

Suddenly there was motion all around her. Figures dropped from the trees. She lurched to grab Knuckles, but he darted forward. Straight into Locke’s arms. Lara-le looked around. In the gloom, her people looked like strangers. They were little more than dark shapes, the starlight shining off their weapons.

Had someone found the guards drugged? Had Locke woken and found her gone? Between carrying Knuckles and her limp, her only hope to escape had been a long head start. They’d overtaken her so easily…

Lara-le said nothing. Neither did the warriors.

One advanced. Starlight gleamed off the chief’s war mask. His steps started slow, then grew faster. He raised a hand to her and Lara-le tensed for the blow.

“No!” Locke shoved him aside.

The chief was surprised enough to stagger away. The shapes around them shifted uneasily. Even Locke seemed surprised, but he gathered himself and moved to stand between the chief and her. He held Knuckles on one hip. She noticed that he was not wearing a war mask. He was not even fully dressed.

“You dare–” The chief growled.

“ You dare? This is my wife! You will not strike her.” Locke’s voice was tight.

“Your wife has been caught in a crime!” The chief snarled. “The most powerful warrior our tribe will ever see and she was trying to steal him away in the night!”

“ Our child,” Locke said. “She was stealing our child. He belongs to us first. This is a family matter and we will handle it ourselves.”

The chief’s eyes were black but for the odd gleam of starlight. She saw the gleam shift as he narrowed his eyes. Lara-le held her breath. It had not occurred to her until that moment, but Knuckles could be taken from Locke too. She wasn’t the only one vulnerable out here. She looked around at the other warriors. Would they step in if the chief decided to act?

“I have done all that you asked,” Locke implored. Had he realized the same as her? She was surprised to feel Locke’s hand, gentle on her arm. “I have ignored my wife’s wishes for you and that has brought us here. Let this matter be between her and I.”

Reminding the chief that Locke was always an obedient soldier seemed to soothe him. He took half a step back and tipped his head to the side. He gestured for Locke to carry on.

Locke winced. When he turned to her, she did not need to see his face well to know there was shame there. It seemed nothing about their family could truly be their own. Even this would be a public matter. At least some of the warriors had the decency to back up or look away.

“Lara-le,” he said quietly. He paused a long moment, searching for what to say. Lara-le did not help him. She had nothing left to say. She had thought she would never see him again.

“I’m sure this is my fault,” Locke said. “I know you haven’t been happy. I have been distracted. I haven’t given you all you want. I… I can’t give you everything you want. But if you come back, I can try again.”

Lara-le looked around at their audience.

“Come back and all will be forgiven.” He squeezed her arm. “I will make sure they forgive you.”

They wouldn’t. This was unforgivable. She’d tried to steal a child from the tribe. Even if he were a normal child, it would have been a serious offense. Especially now, when the blood lines were cut short and there were so few children left. She would not be forgiven. And she would never be trusted with Knuckles again.

She would barely see her child. He would cease to be her child and become their weapon. She would be married to a man she did not love. She would keep losing the people she cared for. The war would slowly chip away at her people’s numbers until none remained..

She would lose them all no matter what she chose.

Lara-le looked into Locke’s eyes. She could just see them gleam in the starlight. He didn’t understand her, but he knew her. He knew her thoughts. She could see the shine where his eyes welled. “Please… please come home,” he said.

She shook her head. She looked away and never met his eyes again. She looked at Knuckles, watching her silently. Always silently. He didn’t meet her eyes either. Her son. Her people’s hope. Her tribe’s weapon. She wished she could see him in the light one more time. But at the same time, she couldn’t bear to look at him a moment longer.

Lara-le walked away. Locke gasped softly, but he let her go. No one stopped her.

She refused to look back. She walked and walked until she was sure she was out of sight. Then she still didn’t look back.

A part of her was dying, her heart left behind in her former husband’s arms. But… at the same time… She did not have to bear Locke’s short-comings and her people’s expectations. No more raids and war. No more Master Emerald.

It had cost her security. Safety. Her only child. A stone of shame sat hard in her chest, heavier and heavier as she walked further and further from her tribe, her family, her child. But even so… the weight was not enough to ground her rising spirit.

She was free.

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