About A Solider
Part 2/10
Lessons
It's been almost a month, and Maria still has not opened the door of the cage. "I don't trust him yet," she says to her two fair-haired companions. "He's different than the others… he'd turn on me just as soon as look at me. He stays right where he is until I say otherwise."
She greets him every three days with a gift. Sometimes they're small, orphan-looking girls and sometimes they were strong soldiers in varying uniforms.
The first time – a terrified young woman in her mid twenties – he refused. Angry, Maria left her in the cell with him, and locked the door. He had learned to tell the time of day by the shadows on the ground and the rotation of the guards. It was nearing seven in the evening.
By the time the guards at the door were switched, an indication that midnight had come, he hadn't even looked at her.
"I dunno who," she spat, "or what you people are, but this has gone far enough!"
As though she were in any position to bark orders.
By three that morning – Maria always went to hunt at this time – he was pacing near the door of the cell. His throat burned, and venom (the only weapon he'd ever need, Maria had explained) was practically seeping out of the corners of his mouth.
"Let me out!" The girl was pleading with noone in particular. She pounded at the iron bars weakly with her fists, always keeping a wary eye on him.
No less than two hours later, she was a babbling mess in the corner of the cell. "Please," she choked out, "you don't want to kill me, I can tell. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone what I saw here."
He saw her mouth moving. He saw tears cascading down her face like waterfalls and he could see her hands trembling. He heard nothing.
By morning, she was dead.
* * *
He tries to keep track of time by scratching notches in one of the iron bars. After seventy-three days, he gives up. The next day, Maria comes to him not with a gift but a set of keys. "It's time you came out of there," she says.
He stands, too quickly, and she backs away from the door.
"You're only still alive because of me," she informs him warningly. The tension and anxiety radiating from her is almost enough to knock him to the ground. "You understand? You will not attack."
He has no intentions of attacking anyone, but he nods anyway. "Yes, ma'am."
Maria shows him their base – an old house that once belonged to an aristocrat and his young wife. Jasper doesn't need to guess what happened to them. When the sun is low enough, she tells her comrades that she's unavaliable for the rest of the night.
"I want to show you your new life," she explains as they walk along a dirt path, her arm linked in his. "I'm going to teach you everything."
In the time it takes him to look down at her and open his mouth to ask a question, she's gone and he's left looking at an empty space by his shoulder.
"…Maria?"
He hears her laugh. She's several hundred yards down the path, her hands on her hips, an amused expression on her face. "Come on, then, I'm not waiting all night."
Jasper inspects the distance between them. "How…?"
"Trust yourself."
He still doesn't know what he's supposed to do, other than mentally will himself to her. There's no way he can cover that much distance in –
"See?"
Opening one eye, he looks down. She's linked in his arm again, as though they'd never separated in the first place. He looks over his shoulder, at the place he'd been standing just a fraction of a second before.
"You'll get used to it," she promises as they continue down the path at a pace he's more comfortable with. "One of your greatest weapons is your speed."
"Can I ask where we're going?"
She laughs. It sends a chill through him.
"Hunting, of course. The first thing a newborn learns. I have to admit, you're a little behind the others when it comes to skill honing. I have no doubts you'll catch up in a matter of days, though."
In truth, he's a bit excited about this change. He wasn't going be handfed like a pet anymore, which was something he never liked to begin with.
The town they arrive in is mostly quiet and devoid of people wandering the streets; this is no surprise to Jasper. War keeps people indoors. Maria slows their pace to a leisurely stroll, and in inhales deeply from time to time.
He watches her carefully. She's an attractive young lady, he decides, even if her intentions aren't always as pure as her appearance. She didn't fool him; he'd seen her in action. She was quick, and she was lethal.
"Anyone catch your fancy?"
He blinks. "What?"
"Jasper," she says with a hint of exasperation, "you're going to have to stop that. Blanking out in the middle of whatever it is you're doing. It's not safe."
He feels disappointment from her, and he wants nothing more than to change it to pride and confidence. She pats his arm and points at something to her left discreetly. Two young Union soldiers were watching them – no doubt noting Jasper's decorated Confederacy uniform.
He notices for the first time that he is actually the only soldier representing the southern states in the area. "Maria, I shouldn't be here," he says quickly, quietly.
"Don't be silly," she says dismissively as the two soldiers began to make their way over. Her eyes dart around the area quickly. They're the only four people around.
"What've we got here?"
Maria lifts her chin. "Hello, boys. Can we help you?"
One of the soldiers inspects Jasper momentarily before curling up his lip at them. "You can explain what you're doing 'round here. Especially him. We ought to take you in, you know."
"Can't we play nicely?"
"Well," the second soldier said. "We can. He can't."
Maria unhooks her arm from Jasper's. "That's too bad."
It's a matter of seconds before she lunges herself at one of the men, and the other is attempting to run away, stumbling over his own feet. For a moment, Jasper isn't quite certain what he's meant to do.
He looks back at Maria, her tiny frame wrapped around the man, her mouth latched onto his neck. His attempts to fling her off all fail, and they both drop to the ground. He was nothing left but dead weight.
Looking up, Maria points at the fleeing soldier's back, her eyes a startling, furious red. "Don't let him get away," she hisses.
He doesn't when he subconsciously makes the decision to catch the man, or even why. The distance between them is eliminated in mere seconds and, as Jasper's hand closes around the back of the man's neck, he feels a wave of emotions crash over him that he'd never experienced before.
The soldier's fear and terror mix with a new sense of power and dominance and, somewhere between the sound of screams and the feeling of teeth sinking into soft flesh, he realises that this is what Maria wants from him.
She's moulding him into a bloodhound. He's becoming her own personal hunter.