*WARNING -- Gruesome/graphic content.
IMPORTANT A/N -- Seriously guys, read this before you go on! I usually wait a good couple of days between chapters, just to give all of you time to read it, discuss it, and digest it. BUT, I already wrote this and decided to go ahead and post of it. That being said, make sure you've read the last chapter before moving on to this one! At this point, there is importance in every chapter and it would really suck for you to miss some development! Anyhow, I already posted a chapter at midnight (technically, today) but I'm going ahead and posting all of this for you. So make sure you read both!
Food was hard to get if you weren't fast. Cricket knew that with absolute certainty because she wasn't fast anymore. Her belly was round with the parasite she housed. How long had she been trapped --lost-- in these woods? It had been at least two months now. Cricket had lost count of the exact days. And they were chasing her! Chasing her! There were always enemies around. She didn't see them. She could only feel them all around her. She didn't know who they were... but they were chasing her. Cricket knew that too. Paranoia was her ally. Paranoia kept her alive.
She could hide. That's what she was good at. But they were tricky and clever... they wanted to starve her out. They took her food! Deer she'd chase would disappear, they'd catch up all the rabbits in snares and take them all away. At the beginning, Cricket would steal from the snares when she'd gotten hungry enough. But they'd figured it out! They'd always get to the traps before her now and take all the contents within. They took all she had to eat, and she was so ravenous lately with the sucking feeder in her belly. Oh, but they wouldn't take this food. Cricket gripped a makeshift spear in her hands and stared at the deer across the grove. The savage, primal creature she'd become calculated when to throw it, how to throw it. Her stomach growled hungrily at the thought of meat.
More! More! the belly-louse screeched from within. She couldn't ever feed it enough.
Cricket had stopped thinking of the presence within her as a baby anymore. No. It ate too much. Took too much. Asked too much. In her head, Cricket visualized a large worm with teeth was hiding inside her. One day it would eat her from the inside out.
She should have cut it from her when she'd had the chance. But it was too large now. Now, it was a part of her. To get rid of the worm was to die.
Cricket chunked the spear. It flew and hit the target. It wasn't a clean hit. It struck the animal in the side of the belly. A sort of shriek emanated from its throat and it started running. Cricket hissed at the fleeing creature and jumped up to scramble after it. The blood would make a trail for her to follow --but also for others to follow.
Cricket ran as fast as she could. If she wasn't the fastest, she'd go hungry. Something stopped her after a few minutes of running --it was a pain. From within. From the leech. It radiated in the core of her abdomen. She snarled and clutched it tightly. For a moment, there was fear. She'd made it angry, she just knew it. This had been a different kind of pain. It hadn't spawned from hunger.
"I'm gonna feed you," she said, though the words were more of a growl and barely comprehensible. The pain stopped.
She didn't give herself time to think about the new development. All she could think about was her life --how she had to satisfy her hunger.
The deer didn't make it awfully far before it had collapsed on the ground. Cricket stalked up to it. It groaned in pain as it bled all over the forest floor. There was once a time where that sight would sadden Cricket. Not anymore. It was kill or die. Starve or survive. Not breaking eye contact with the panicking thing, she grabbed a large rock from the ground.
She then unceremoniously finished the job by dashing in its skull again and again and again.
The pain in her belly came again. This time was a little worse than the last. It stopped her in her tracks, and the now the blood-stained rock fell from her hand. For a moment, she crumpled and stopped breathing. She tried to talk to the parasite --tried to console it. And it worked after a few seconds. The sensation ceased for a moment, leaving her gasping for air.
When she'd regained herself, she suddenly felt the skin on her back prickling with an itchy heat. Her instincts screamed at her. You're being watched! You're being watched! Run! A feral Cricket whirled around, eyes like daggers as she sensed a predator in her midst. She had learned a hard lesson since she'd been living out here: if you didn't trust your instincts... bad things would happen to you.
Cricket got to her feet to abandon the dead animal, but didn't make it two feet before another pain racked her belly. Get out of here! her senses yelled at her. Feed or I'll kill you! the worm argued from within. The pain was too much and the savage girl fell to her knees, clutching the morbid rotundness of her stomach. What was it doing to her?
It punished her with everything it had for trying to abandon its sustenance. For what felt like a lifetime, her insides contorted in a torment unlike anything she'd ever felt before. When it ceased, Cricket immediately used her bare hands to rip into the deer's belly. She couldn't waste any time... she had to appease the parasite.
The first handful of dripping, raw meat passed to her lips. She didn't hesitate to rip and swallow a hunk of it. And then the next mouthful. Her teeth gnashed and sloshed as she filled the gaping maw inside her. She grew clammy and hot. The worm had rejected the meat, and Cricket retched the contents of her stomach onto the animal.
Another burst of pain had her seeing stars, and she couldn't help herself. Despite the fact that she felt so vulnerable and so open and so watched, she screamed out loud. It hurt so bad. She was going to die today, and she knew it. Her tiny body couldn't hold the voracious larva anymore and now it was going to rip itself from her. The thought frightened her. Oh, she didn't want to die!
She took in greedy breaths once the pain stopped. Cricket took another look at the deer. She had to prove herself worthy as a host. She kept eating, the gaminess of the meat now tinged sour by the vomit that covered it. She must have been quite a sight, squatting over a ravaged animal and eating bile covered venison.
If Cricket was sane, she might have reasoned that she was laboring --giving birth to her first child. She might have recognized the sudden pains for what they were: contractions. But she wasn't sane anymore. So, instead, she entered a vicious cycle of eating, vomiting, and writhing in inescapable agony. Again and again, she saw the childbirth as a monster trying to burst from her. Again and again, she would try and pacify a beast that wasn't there with ruined deer carcass.
Of course, it didn't work. The contractions got worse the longer they went, and the already mud covered Cricket was reduced to thrashing around in a mixture of blood, chunks of half-digested food, and now, her own excrement and urine from where she'd lost control of her body. It all caked itself in the long locks of her hair. The once illustrious curtain of curls was now a matted, dirty mess.
Another contraction came, and she shouted to the sky. She couldn't even move anymore. She stopped trying to. For a moment, Cricket hit a moment of serenity. She was dying. But that was okay now. She realized through the haze of pain that she was just ready to get it over with. What good was her life? She hadn't known happiness for so long, so what was she fighting for? She laid flat on her back, gazing at the ironically perfect, blue sky. She tried to lose herself in it --to imagine what it might be like to fly.
She wanted to die happy, and surely that wasn't too much to ask. Was it?
Cricket opened her mouth again, but no words came out. Her voice was gone from the screaming. She no longer believed in the gods, but still, she mouthed a prayer to them. If they were there, she hoped they'd have more mercy on her in the next life. She begged them to love her the next time around.
Footsteps could be heard along the forest floor. Cricket's sensitive ears could hear something approaching, but she didn't have the energy to look or the resolve to move through the labor. She reasoned that nothing, not even the times she'd been raped, had been as bad as housing a monster inside her. Maybe she was meant to stay with the baron. Maybe this was her penance for escaping. She cringed at the thought of going back, and for a moment, she remembered the estate --the gods awful red room where she'd slowly lost her soul.
Maybe they'd just kill her quick instead.
Or maybe it was a hungry animal. Either would do.
It wasn't a wild animal. A few seconds yielded voices in the air. Cricket was fearful. She hadn't heard anyone speak in a long time. She closed her eyes and waited for the end.
"Gods in heaven!" came a voice from somewhere out of sight. "What is this?"
"It's a girl," an answering tone came. It sounded oddly sympathetic, even to Cricket's ear. "I brought you here as soon as I found her. You have to help her. I think she's dying. Please, please help her." In a quieter voice, the person went on. "But you have to be careful. I really think she's dangerous."
"She's not dying yet," said the first voice. Quick footsteps came running toward Cricket, who was miserable and only half-listening. "She looks pregnant. By how low her belly is riding, I'd say she's giving birth. Run up to her head and hold it up. Tell her to breathe. She doesn't have long now by the looks of it."
All instincts, all nerves, were fires now. Everything in Cricket's body urged her to get up... to escape. To leave before someone else could hurt her. But she couldn't. Two feet stopped by her head, and it was all Cricket could do to loll her head over. Her tear-stricken eyes found a new sight. It was a girl --a young girl with a long braid, who now squatted beside her head.
She went to touch Cricket, and out of primal reflex, Cricket hissed at her. The girl jumped back. She shook and held her hands out in front of her for the primal girl to see.
"Easy," the girl's soft voice crooned. "I'm not here to hurt you, okay?"
She slowly walked back up to Cricket's head. This time, Cricket let her get close. What else did she have to lose anyhow? What could this girl take from her that hadn't already been taken?
"See?" the girl asked, and lifted Cricket's head from the ground. A small set of hands brushed away the sweaty hair that had stuck itself to her forehead. "Everything is going to be alright. You're having a baby. We're going to take good care of you and then you'll have a little child of your own." The girl smiled kindly, and continued to stoke the savage girl's face.
Cricket cringed at the touch, even if it was gentle.
"No, don't do that. I promise it's okay." The girl said. "My name is Azabela Stryder. I found you when I was hunting, and I want to help you. I brought my grandmother with me. She is a medic and she knows exactly what to do. And she told me to tell you that you need to breathe. Okay?"
Cricket now felt someone removing the clothes that covered her most private area. Immediately, she recoiled but a set of hands held her in place. The exposition put her right back at the baron's keep again, where they took off her clothes and forced themselves on her. Cricket screamed. "No! Don't hurt me again! Please don't hurt me again!"
It took a moment for the two to settle her again --to calm her fighting limbs. Now, an older woman spoke to Cricket. "I'm not going to hurt you. The baby is going to come out of you down here, so it needs to have a path. I need to have a look at you."
Cricket cried but was helpless to stop what was happening to her. She looked up to the sky as warm hands moved about her feminine area.
"Okay, girl. It's just as I thought. You're ready," the woman said. Her voice was kind and comforting. "You're ready to push the child out. So I want you to pretend like you're going to the bathroom and hold it for as long as you can."
Cricket did as told and was met with such a pain that she barely believed it could exist.
She looked up into the sky and then? The sky... spoke? Wait, what? What was going on?
"Wake up!" a booming, female voice came from the clouds. "Wake up, Rhalla! You're having a nightmare! Wake up!"
That's funny, how did the sky know her name? She didn't have time to find the answer. Another round of pai--
"Wake up!"
Hench shot up in her tent, clutching her chest and gasping for air. Azabela was beside her, her eyebrows scrunched in worry as she gripped her beloved's shoulders. For a long moment, Hench didn't speak. She panicked, and her heart galloped in her chest like a racehorse. With one fluid moment, the mighty woman got to her feet and left the tent. Fast, powerful legs had her amongst the trees in a few heartbeats --away from everyone that might hear her.
It was a recurring nightmare --a nightmare. It wasn't real, at least, not anymore. She had to tell herself that. It was just a memory. She was no longer in that forest giving birth to her son. She was no longer in pain. She was no longer Cricket.
Hench did her best to ground herself through the panic attack. "I am alive," she whispered, and pulled her hands through her hair. "I am twenty nine years old. I survived the baron's keep. I survived the birth of my son. He is now sixteen years old. I am here." Hench breathed, already calming down with the technique she'd taught herself long ago. "I am fine."
She exhaled and looked around. "I have Azabela," she mouthed, continuing to convince herself. "Azabela is safe. My son is safe. I am happy. Cricket is gone now --I am no longer that girl. I am powerful... I am invincible. No one will ever hurt me again." Hench swallowed a mouthful of air. "No one can hurt me again."
And just like that, at those final words, the frantic feeling in her heart settled and ended.
And Rhalla Elias Gwenneth was just alright.