Across the Wall

Chapter 1: ''Eat shit, Adam''

I crouched high in the pine, one gloved hand gripping the branch to keep my balance, the other clutching my hunting dagger. The wrap around the hilt had come undone and it was blowing in the wind that bit my face.

The snow crunched and I didn't dare make a single movement, even a breath could give away my location. Closer and closer the doe crept until it was directly under me, and that's when I dropped.

I wooshed  towards the ground, one foot, four feet, ten, and before my knife could be buried into its' neck, it fled away. It bounded over the snow in graceful leaps as I fell face down into the snow. I didn't bother trying to catch it, it was far too fast. Against the insulation of the snow, my yells of frustration were barely audible. I threw fistfuls of snow, knowing fully well that if anyone were to see me I would be mortified, but continued my tantrum anyway.

 A red blotch grew in the surrounding snow, soaking my clothes. I hissed as I rolled back the sleeve of my jacket from my forearm, revealing where I had been cut by my own knife.

Though Fear and I were not acquainted, I would describe its cousin, Anger, as my closest friend. It was a fire in my stomach and my veins, begging me to burn the whole forsaken world down.

My stomach churned again. Hunger was also a close friend of mine. The one who stayed around too long, no matter what effort I put into satiating it.

The sun began to set. Unfruitful as my hunt had been, I made my way from the woods all the way back through the village, to our humble little shack. I pushed open the swinging door, hanging by one metal hinge, and crept in.

The sun had fully set by the time I arrived home, and it was dark inside, save for one burning candle setting light to a livid, too skinny face. I braced myself for the scolding, warning my anger that it was on a leash for the moment.

My mother gasped when she saw me. I just rolled my eyes in response. I did what I could to hide my arm as I hung up my jacket. "Leilani!'' She whisper-yelled my name, trying not to wake up my father who was no doubt passed out on his bedroll and judging by the empty bottles on the counter would not be awoken any time soon. "Where in the bloody hell have you been?"

I cringed at the dagger poking me in the leg, where I had hidden it in my pants and walked past her through the one room residence. "I was with Emsly and Faith at the town square. I couldn't leave, Elder Maria was telling us the most amazing story." I said dryly, naming two "respectable" girls, in my mothers opinion, who I hadn't had interest in being friends with since I was 12. It was a truth and a lie. My mom knew I loved Elder Marias stories, even though half of them were make believe of magic and monsters and beasts who used to prowl our land–well those parts are likely true even though I have never experienced magic or seen those beasts myself. But she tells of how the beasts come and steal little kids from their beds at night and kidnap them away to be tortured. That's a tale my mother definitely believes.

My mom followed close behind me, "that is the last time you are out after dark, I don't care about the circumstance, you're to be in this house before the sun sets." I finally reached the door to my makeshift room, (I had demanded my own separate space when I had started becoming a woman, so my mother had turned the broom closet into my own private, albeit small, room). "Do you hear me? Acknowledge you heard me," she said sternly.

Unbothered by her demand, I uttered a halfhearted confirmation before slamming the door to my room and plopping down in my pile of furs and clothes. My makeshift bed.

My head spun, my limbs were so sore and cold they could fall off. I stared at the slanted wooden ceiling, beginning to rot on one side, at the carved words.