Incognito

12

Thunder ripped all around and a bolt of lightning cracked with a sizzle like cooking bacon. When Mia peered out, the sky was black as if pitch had been smeared across it blackening out the sun and stars. The rain came down in pelts and hit Mia's face as she sat in the doorway. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't flooding their house. Then a tremendous boom of thunder startling her heart and as a flash split through the dark. Prosper screamed. Her wailing hurt Mia's heart and she sloshed over to the trunk and lifted her treasure out. In her head was the constant reminder that at anytime someone could hear Prosper and come find them. She pushed it away as this panic and anxiousness snuck in. Mia had never been good with crying. She rocked and shushed her. She gave her something to chew on. She burped her. She fed her. Prosper cried on.

Eventually, Mia gave up. She slouched down against the wall. She was on the floor of water that washed over her bed and trunk. Mia cried. She didn't mean to. But a tear slipped down in the stress of the moment. Then another fell. She wiped at it sloppily as her headache grew and Prosper cried and the storm brewed on. Mia began to sing. She may not have been good at it, or heck, even decent. Still, she sang a hymn from the church that her mother loved. The mother that had always loved her. The mother that she left for this life.

At some point, Prosper calmed and silenced.

At some hour, the wind ceased and ran was forbade to plummet.

At some time, Mia fell asleep with her daughter in her arms and mud all around her.

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Zac was dreaming of snow. It had to be a dream for it never snowed. There was either rain or sleet; not snow. A shiver ran down his spine but a slake fell on his neck. As far as Zac was concerned, he shouldn't be paying any attention to the delicate crystals. He had work ahead of him. Diligently he hacked at figments of his imagination. The sword had always been his strong point. Not a bow like his brother or a spear or spade as while his father, Zac's weapon of choice  was the sword. And so he hacked. Enemies of the king came up and with no hesitation, Zac leaped and spun and cut. With their disappearance bandits and thieves, those who had recently been sent to the gallows, attacked. Each time Zac quickly defeated them. His actions were instinctive. Someone fights me, I fight back. So it was the same as the girl who appeared next. Habit set in and Zac swung and hacked. She parred his blades even as blood blossomed on her side. Arching his sword he brought it into her side and she fell. While she lay in a pool of her own blood on the snowy, frozen earth her face became clear. She was Olivia, the knight's daughter whom he first loved. Next, she was a tavern attendant whom he had ruined his life with. She was Kalliope, his manservant's and best friend's wife. Then she was Mister Roslin's daughter, the one in the green-black dress that he had become insinuated with at the party. He knelt down and shivered in the cold wind and she became the maid at the farmer's house who had been so fun to kiss. Disgusted with his life he vowed not to kiss the next woman who came into his life. He blinked and his mother lay in the snow bleeding.

She had not changed since the day she left on her voyage so long ago. Her stomach was plump with the precious promise of a baby girl. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She looked so young with pale skin and unnaturally red cheeks. She would adventure in the day but yet at night refused the cosmetics every woman applied to burns. She said that she was too vain and would not make herself more so by wearing powders or lotions or creams. Her husband said it was humiliating.

Zac wept. As hard as he tried to forget the past and become a new man he would remember a girl Women were always haunting his past. All because his mother was dead. She was all he had to blame.

Though he did blame his little sister. If she had never conceived Zac would still be the sparkle in Lady Jinelle's eye. She would never have left Zac, starving him of the love he would forever be deprived of. If he was still his mother's favorite maybe he would not be such a rebel. He could have been that earl or knight or lord he dreamed he could. If it wasn't for that little sister he never wanted. He wouldn't be here.