Chapter II

The Watcher

A slight drizzle wakened Arabelle. She cracked open her good eye, waiting a while for it to fully open. Then she raised her head, yawning. She glanced around, noting that the stranger was gone. He had said he would only be there at night…and he wouldn't reveal himself to her.

Arabelle sat up, stretching her arms and legs. They were somewhat stiff and cold, but she was well rested. The fire was dying, just a heap of glowing embers.

Arabelle rose, draping her cloak over her shoulders and stamping her left foot to shake off the numbness. She went to the fire, hoping it wasn't too wet to build up again. She found some dry grass and leaves and fed the embers, poking and coaxing, at last getting a small flame going.

Turning her head slightly, Arabelle glimpsed a pile of creamy white mushrooms near the edge of the fire. Scooping them towards her, Arabelle sniffed them. They looked very good and a fresh. Was this a parting gift from her mysterious friend?

Smiling slightly, Arabelle spitted three of the biggest ones on a stick and began roasting them over her meager fire. After they were good and brown, she had a good breakfast, enjoying it thoroughly. Good of her new friend to leave mushrooms for her.

Biting into another savory morsel, Arabelle reflected on the previous night. She wondered if the stranger would really come back. She half hoped he would. She liked him. He saw through her deformity. That was good of him.

Arabelle doused the fire, treading on the remaining sparks. She sharpened her dagger, ready to go out and do her day's work. She set off into the deeper parts of the woods, never aware of a large, dark shape following swiftly and silently behind her.

Arabelle had journeyed a good half-hour when she came to the banks of a pond. She smiled, the good side of her face lighting up. What good fortune! She could fish here! She stepped a few paces away from the pond. There was a farmhouse a ways off, but surely they wouldn't mind if she took a few fish from the pond. She could see cows grazing in the pasture. Good…the inhabitants of the house had meat aplenty. She wouldn't be stealing from them, necessarily.

Arabelle laid aside her staff, which she carried in case of a wild animal attack. She tied her long hair in a knot at the nape of her neck, pushing a few strands behind her ears. She then bent at the shaded end of the pond. This was where fish liked to stay. They would swim in and out of small hollows beneath the water.

Arabelle slowly raised her hand just above the water, staying absolutely still. If anyone had been watching her, they would have thought she was made of stone if not for the wind ruffling her clothes and hair. Of course, if anyone had seen her, they would have driven her off as they normally did.

But someone was watching her, and didn't dare show himself to her.

Two eyes stared out at the girl from the shadows beneath the overhang of a clump of weeping willows directly across from where Arabelle was kneeling. The shadowy form was large and awkward shaped, with huge hulking shoulders and clumsy paw-like hands and feet. But it stayed as still as Arabelle, simply watching her.

What is she doing?

The figure almost jumped up as Arabelle's arm snapped down into the water, sliding in without a ripple and snaking back out again. Though the deformed side of her face was a permanent sneer, the watcher could tell that she was not pleased, as the normal side of her mouth was turned down in a frown.

What on earth is she trying to do?

Arabelle stayed in the same position for almost half an hour, never flinching or moving. Then, her hand shot down again, slipping into the water. This time, when she pulled out her hand, the watcher saw a flash of wriggling silver. A fish!

Arabelle's face showed happiness and satisfaction. She held onto the fish tightly, searching to find a sizeable rock that filled her palm. The watcher stared out, fascinated. Then Arabelle positioned the rock, held onto the fish's tail and brought it slamming down, hitting the rock squarely with the fish's head. The fish immediately stopped squirming, killed instantly.

The shadowy mass moved slightly, crawling forward to the pond edge. Surely…she didn't do that for fun, did she? What would the point be?

Arabelle was handling the dead fish, that satisfied smile still on her face. She was saying something, and her observer heard her with keen ears, "Ah, what a beauty!" Then she bowed her head with closed eyes as she said in a softer voice, "Thank you, Lord, for providing me with food."

The watcher was filled with amazement. Food! That was what she used the fish for? It didn't make sense, but…

Humans do strange things…this must be one of them…but if Arabelle does it…it can't be wicked. And she is obviously grateful for it.

The watcher looked down into the water. There were a few large fish swimming lazily about.

Maybe I could help her…

Sliding into the water slowly and with unperceivable smoothness, the stranger submerged after taking a long breath.

Arabelle was amazed. She had never seen so many fish come flocking to one spot! Her hand shot down, snaring another fish. She pulled it out, swiftly killing it and tossing it into her satchel.

Repeating this process, Arabelle soon had four fish, big and sleek. Delighted, Arabelle resolved to catch just one more. She planned to share with her new friend, should he return. She bent down, readying herself for the next fish.

Suddenly, Arabelle was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and swung around. She was confronted with the angry face of a farmer, obviously the owner of the house nearby. On seeing the girl's hideous deformity, he gave out a cry, his fingers digging cruelly into the girl's shoulders. Arabelle tried to pull away, her hands at her mouth, gasping out, "Sir, please! Let go of me! What's wrong?"

The man drew back his hand, slapping the bad side of Arabelle's face. The girl cried out, the old stitch marks of her scars opening. Blood began seeping slowly from the wounds. The man hauled her upright, snarling into her face, "Trespasser! Little fiend!"

Arabelle pleaded with him, "I'm sorry, sir! I didn't know it was your pond! Here, I'll give you the fish if you'd like! Please, let me go! You're hurting me!"

The farmer pulled back his hand again, absolutely disgusted by the girl's appearance and not heeding her pleas. He struck her harder this time. Arabelle reeled back, missing her footing. She slipped into the pond, her head striking a submerged root of a gnarled tree. She immediately blacked out, her body limply sinking.

The farmer was standing over the pond, his eyes cold as he watched the girl sink. He had heard of her…the little demon girl who had been driven from every town she ever tried to visit. He had heard she was a witch and called up evil spirits. With a face like that, she must be some sort of sorceress. Fine…see if she would call any up now!

The submerged stranger saw a cascade of bubbles as something struck the surface. His eyesight, even underwater, was unnaturally good. He could make out the shape of the girl. Arabelle! She wasn't moving.

Swimming with strong strokes, the stranger reached the girl, hooking his arm around her waist. He touched the bottom of the pond with his feet, pushing up and breaking the surface with a gasp as he sucked in air.

The first thing he saw was the face of a middle-aged man, looking down into the pond. The moment he locked eyes with the man, the man's mouth dropped open, and he gave out a cry of horrified surprise. He turned without a second glance, running with a speed that belied his age.

The stranger pulled himself out of the water, dragging the unconscious girl along with him. He shook water from his face, kneeling over the girl. Unsure of what to do, he softly slapped her cheeks, trying to revive her. He didn't want her to see him…but he didn't want her to die!

He continued doing this until he was rewarded with a groan from the girl. Leaping up, the stranger turned, fleeing into the trees.

Arabelle came back to herself, coughing up water. She rolled over, retching and convulsing as she strove to get the water from her throat. Once she had recovered, she slowly crawled fully onto the bank. She pressed her cheek to the muddy ground, weeping unashamedly. It was more the cruel injustice that caused her to weep than the fact that she had almost drowned. Why? Why did they not see past her face? Why?

Not really thinking as to how she had managed to get ashore, Arabelle lay sprawled out for a few more minutes until she had properly recovered. She then rose, her ragged tunic muddied and drenched, her hair plastered to her face. She turned, expecting to see the satchel of fish gone. But no…it was there!

Sobbing with relief, Arabelle picked up the satchel, actually kissing the rough burlap material. Food was hard to come by for her. She was happy to have it.

Realizing the farmer might be back, Arabelle set out for the quarry, deciding to have an early supper. As she left, leaving wet, muddy footprints on the crushed grass, a large shadow followed imperceptible behind her; the shadow of her rescuer.

Arabelle had built up a good fire, sitting near it and rubbing her chest vigorously. She was cold. The cool air was not kind to her damp skin. She had removed her wet clothes and wrapped herself in her cloak, waiting for her clothes to dry. Once they had, she donned them again, still wearing her cloak. She rubbed her hands in front of the fire, hoping the night wouldn't be windy.

Now Arabelle turned to roasting the fish. She cleaned them and spitted them, roasting them over the flames. They smelled wonderful. It had been a while since she had had some decent meat. This would be a real feast.

Darkness fell as Arabelle finished preparing her meal. She scooted her fish onto a flat rock, drawing her dagger and cutting into the meat.

"Are you going to eat it?"

Arabelle looked up, knowing she wouldn't see anyone. She smiled, "Aye, mate. Smells good, don't it?"

Her mystery friend was silent for a while, and then answered, "Well…I've never eaten a living thing…"

Arabelle arched her good eyebrow, "Never eaten meat? You're missing out, friend. Good, roasted meat is a real treat for me. Why don't you try some fish? Here, I'll roast this one for you." She spitted the third fish, roasting it for her friend and setting it out on a flat rock. She brought it to the edge of the firelight, setting it down. She stepped back, hearing footsteps nearing the plate.

Arabelle went back to her seat, continuing her meal. She heard a loud noise coming from the darkness. A moan of pleasure. She smiled, "Good, eh?"

Her friend continued making the sounds, "Mmm, wonderful! Tastes wonderful!"

Arabelle laughed, "Aye, that it is. I fancy a good fish every now and again."

The two finished their fish in silence. The voice spoke after a contented sigh, "I don't think I've ever eaten so well in my life!"

Arabelle chuckled, "Nothing beats fish, mate. Except a slab of beef, maybe. Can't get my hands on that, though." She shrugged.

"Beef? Aren't there cows nearby?"

Arabelle nodded, "Well, yes…but they belong to the farmers. They either use them for meat or milk. I don't want to steal a cow from them!"

Silence followed. Then a soft, "Are they kind to you?"

Arabelle thought it an odd question, "Well…I've never properly met them…"

"But are they kind to you?"
Arabelle shrugged feebly, "I don't think they pay much attention to me…" She involuntarily rubbed the side of her face, which had caused her so much grief…and which had also taken many blows. She winced suddenly, her fingernail snagging one of the scars reopened by the farmer's rough treatment of her.

This was immediately noted by the watcher, "What is it?"

Arabelle glanced up into the darkness, pulling her bloodied finger away. Blood trickled down her cheek. She blinked her good eye and then answered, "Nothing…just thinking."

The voice turned harder, "You flinched…what happened?" A gasp was heard, "You're bleeding!"

Arabelle looked at the blood on her finger, pretending to have just seen it, "Oh…clumsy me, I must have torn through some of the stitching…that happens."

The voice had an edge now…cold and commanding, "What happened? Who did that to you?"

Arabelle didn't like lying, but the sound of her friend's voice had a vengeful tone. She spoke in a small voice, "I must've ripped the stitching…it's all right, no one hurt me!"

The voice had grown increasingly deeper, more menacing, "Who did it to you?"

Arabelle, after hearing that voice, spilled it all, too frightened to disobey, "Just a farmer, but I was fishing in his pond and deserved to be hit! I was trespassing! He was just warning me!"

She was surprised to hear restrained breathing. But it quieted after a while, and the voice said, "You have every right to fish where you please…he shouldn't have struck you…"

Arabelle tried to justify the man, "I shouldn't have trespassed. He was only doing what he knew would keep me away. He didn't want me stealing his fish!"

The watcher was thinking one resentful thought. Or didn't want to look at your face!

"Will you be able to fix it?"

It took a while for Arabelle to realize he was referring to the scar on her face. She patted it gingerly, "Aye…I've had worse."

She heard movement as the voice said, "Sleep now, Arabelle. I have things to do. But I'll be with you tomorrow night."

Arabelle nodded into the darkness, calling out a farewell, "Goodbye, friend. And God bless you for your kindness!" She still felt eternally grateful that she had gained this man's friendship, no matter how strange a form it was in.

The watcher turned, going towards the edge of the quarry and scaling the walls quickly. As he reached the top, he turned, looking down at the young girl curled up near the fire. He nodded, and then vanished into the night.

No one knew what started the fire. The farmer had woken up in the middle of the night due to the noise and the heat of the fire. The roof was well ablaze at this time and was licking at the walls.

Now in a panic, the farmer had roused his wife and gathered up what remaining possessions they could salvage. They made it out of the house just in time. The roof collapsed with a resounded crash and crackle as the flames leapt high.

The farmer and his wife stood on top of the hill overlooking their burning house. The woman wept openly for the loss of their house, for they were poor and didn't have much. The man simply stood, his eyes hard in the light of the fire, his arms crossed.

Suddenly, the man stood rigid. He squinted. There, set against the glow of the flame, was the outline of a monstrous figure. It seemed to be a man, but much larger and of a deformed posture. It was leaping out of the remains of the burning house. The farmer only had a moment to observe it, as it darted away out into the open, sprinting towards the forest with superhuman speed.

Arabelle slept on, blissfully unaware of the catastrophe taking place not more than five miles from where she lay. Her own fire was dwindling down but still casting a reddish glow of her.

The watcher was back. He was bathed in sweat, grimy with soot and ash. But he lay on his stomach, chin propped up on his arms as he surveyed the scene before him. He had good eyesight and could see the girl well, even from his position on the rim of the quarry.

The watcher thought the girl was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He had seen other girls. He thought them all beautiful…but none like this girl.

I never knew there were humans as unfortunate as I…

He watched he with soft eyes. She was lying on her side but slightly twisted. Her arms were stretched out slightly before her, and her head rested on her arms. The good side of her face was visible in the firelight. Her long lashes cast a shadow over her cheek. Her lips looked even redder in the light, full and beautiful. Her skin was a honey-gold color, and her hair, which fell framing her face and would stir gently each time she breathed, was a soft flaxen color.

She's beautiful…

He had never seen anyone like her. The deformed side of her face did not bother him. She's brave and strong to live with a face like that…

And to not be bitter and resentful towards those who hated her?

Shall I not hate those who abhor me?

Maybe she's happier because she doesn't hate them…

Settling down a bit more, the watcher prepared to sleep. But before he closed his eyes, he took one last, long look at the girl, and breathed in a soft murmur.

"Sleep, sweet angel, and may I meet thee in the land of dreams, where no darkness shall hide me from thine own pure eyes."