Chapter VI: Dulcea's Friend

January 6, 1789; 7:26 AM

...Oh! Thank God! She's finally coming to...

...Tia, can you hear me?...

...Come on, honey. Open your eyes...

Tia gradually wakes up in her own bed surrounded by Pappa and Klas, and even Mamma, who struggles to keep her head up while seated on the edge of the bed. Tia is wrapped in blankets, a wet rag pasted to her forehead. She suddenly convulses violently with outright horror when seeing Mamma, confusing her with the ghastly apparition she saw out of the window before passing out. She thrashes about frantically, trying to get away from the shriveled monster.

"Tia! Honey! Take it easy! We're trying to help you! Shh... shh..." Pappa grasps Tia's arms tight, trying to prevent her from harming herself while trying to soothe her fears. Klas grabs her legs so she doesn't kick anyone. Mamma clasps her hands to her mouth, shocked and dismayed at Tia's reaction when seeing her. Finally, Tia comes to her senses, and immediately feels profound regret and shame as her tears start flowing like the Hällingsåfallet.

"Oh, Mamma!" Tia lunges forward against Pappa's grip and hugs her Mamma, shaking with distraught wails. "I'm so sorry, Mamma! I didn't mean it! Please forgive me, Mamma! Please, please..."

"Oh, my sweet baby." Mamma's tone is soft and reassuring, but her expression remains unchanged. Her own mortality has never been more clear and imminent than at this moment. She holds Tia tight, feeling intense love and human bonding despite her own fears, while rocking her gently and stroking her hair. Perhaps the extreme connection she feels for Tia is being fueled by her existential crisis. "You have nothing to apologize for. Everything is just fine. Mamma loves you so, so much."

"What happened, Tia?" said Klas.

"Not now, Klas. We'll ask questions later. In the meantime, you need to rest, Tulip. Lie back, now." Pappa and Klas both gently guide Tia back down on the pillows, then place the rag back on her head. "It's not yet dawn. Try to get some sleep while I whip up some breakfast for you. And Mamma needs to go back to bed as well."

"Oh, come now, dear. I'm perfectly fine. I'll sit with her a little longer."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine. Really, I am." Mamma's getting exasperated.

"Very well." Pappa kisses Mamma on the forehead, then leans forward to kiss Tia before announcing, "I'll be downstairs." But before leaving, he takes Klas aside and mumbles to him covertly, "keep an eye on both of them."

"Mmm," is Klas' only reply while nodding slightly. Klas places a chair next to the bed, sits down and wipes the rag gently on Tia's heads. When Pappa is satisfied, he heads downstairs.

As Mamma holds Tia's hand, Klas continues to rub the rag on her forehead, feeling her cheeks to check for fevers, being as attentive as a loving parent. Eventually he asks, "what were you trying to do last night, little Tulip? Were you getting sick? Did you need air?"

"I'd rather just forget about it," Tia responds with weary sighs.

"Are you sick?"

"I don't know."

"Did something frighten you?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Tia throws the rag aside and briskly tosses herself into a fetal position, with her back turned to Klas and Mamma. Mamma gestures to Klas that he should back off, and that they should leave the room.

"Very well, baby." Mamma kisses her cheek. "Klas will help me back to my room."

"NO, MAMMA!" Tia whips around and faces Mamma. "Don't leave me! I'm SCARED!" She flings herself up and clamps her limbs around Mamma.

"Yes. Of course I'll stay, my sweet Dulcea," a lingering kiss on Tia's forehead, "but I need to lie down. Klas, could you help me to your bed?"

"Can't you stay in my bed, Mamma?" Tia's plea is heart wrenching.

"I don't think there's room for both of us."

"I'll drag my bed next to Tia's, so you can both be side by side." Klas shares the bedroom with Tia, and his bed is on the opposite end of the room.

Before Klas gets up from the chair, Tia grabs his arm and weeps. "I'm sorry, Klas. I didn't mean to yell at you. I hate when I do that! You're the best brother in the world!"

Klas couldn't help but be deeply moved by Tia's sentiment and genuine tenderness, and he found himself wishing that he had another sister like Tia. Carina. If you had lived... He leaned over and kissed her left cheek. "Oh, my tiny tot. You have nothing to apologize for." He kissed her right cheek. "Your anger is understandable. Please don't be upset. You know that I will love you no matter what."

She grasps Klas' arm even tighter and exclaims in a wavering sing song voice, "thank you, dear brother. That means so much."

"You're very welcome. Now, if you could let go of me so I can move my bed," Klas said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" She jerks her hands to her face.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You're doing it again." Klas waves his finger playfully at Tia as he strolls to his bed. The bed is very heavy, but Klas is as strong as a mule despite his thin, lanky frame. After moving his bed next to Tia's and helping Mamma lie down, he utters, "both of you rest now. Pappa wanted me to watch the two of you, but..."

"We're fine, Klas." Mamma is irritated by Klas' comment.

"As I was about to say," Klas speaks with sarcastic emphasis, "I have things to do: feed the animals, muck out the stalls." He kisses his Mamma, "good night," then leans toward Tia, now snuggling in Mamma's arms. He caresses her head with both hands and touches his forehead to hers, "rest, Tulip, and promise me that we'll talk about what happened when you're feeling up to it." Tia responds reluctantly with a shy, pouty nod.

"A ghoul?"

"That's what I said."

"But, surely that's just pure fantasy."

"I know what I saw!"

"Shh! Your mother is asleep," whispered Pappa, sitting on the sofa in the parlor with Tia sitting on his lap. Klas is opposite them on the rocking chair.

"There's no such thing as ghouls, Tia. It must have been something else." Klas is genuinely concerned that Tia may be losing her sanity due to Mamma's illness. She's been very moody, and now she seems to be prone to hallucinations. He can't bear the thought of losing another sister, first Carina whom he cannot remember and has never known, and now little Tia to the madhouse.

Pappa tried to interject in a more soothing tone. "Tia, are you sure it wasn't just an animal of some sort? Maybe a fox or..."

"It stood on two legs. It had a big open mouth full of long, pointy teeth. It had bulging snake eyes and long, thin pointy fingers, and it was naked and covered with big, bloody cuts," she responded in a flat tone, blank faced.

"And you saw that much detail in the dark of night? The moon was set by then." Pappa tenderly whispered his inquiry as if to avoid any embarrassment on her part. Klas looked down, losing hope.

Tia began quivering slightly with eyes shut tight. Her heart was pounding in her throat. I know what I saw!

"Could it have been a dream? Maybe a vision brought on by some scary books you've been reading?" Pappa gestures to the bookshelves in the parlor. After a few moments of awkward silence, Pappa said, "perhaps you need to eat. Come." He pets Tia's long, soft hair. "Let me make you some lunch. You skipped breakfast and it's important to..."

"I'll show you!" Tia jumped off of Pappa's lap and ran to the back door.

"Wait, Tia!"

"I'm going to show you EXACTLY where it was when I saw it!"

"Well, put on your coat and shoes first!"

"Maybe she did see someone, Pappa. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt." Klas pleads Tia's case. "There may be an injured person out there," he said, pointing at the bay window.

Pappa exhaled hard as he stood up, "let's find out."

"Hmm... Well, they certainly can't be squirrel tracks. There're far too big." Pappa is down on his knees, examining a series of strange, long clawed animal tracks in the snow with his fingers.

"They're too small for a bear. Maybe it was a wolverine," adds Klas. Both he and Pappa are remaining calm, studious, like a pair of paleontologists at a fossil field. "Whatever it was, it must have been pretty light. It didn't sink in the snow too much."

"Aye, and it wasn't in a hurry. Look at how closely together the tracks are. Strange that a wounded animal would move so casually." Pappa points at some blood drops in the snow. "Then again..." his gaze wanders off into the distance.

Tia is beside herself with disbelief and apprehension. "How can you two be so calm?! It was a MONSTER! Why won't you believe me?!"

"Tia, calm down." Klas massages her shoulders. "We're trying to figure this out. If there's a dangerous animal around here we'll need to take precautions."

"In the meantime, I don't want you out here by yourself anymore until we get to the bottom of this. Understand?" Pappa speaks in a faraway voice as he stands up, continuing to peer out.

"Yes, Pappa, but I'm telling you that this wasn't an animal. It was a person! Someone who's cursed! A ghoul or a devil!"

"Tia! That's enough! Now I want you to go back inside and have some lunch, then serve your mother!"

"But Pappa!"

"GO ON!"

Tia stomps back to the cottage with a pout that threatens to crack her face in two. "Weren't you just a little too harsh on her, Pappa?" Klas' concern for Tia's mental well-being has not escaped Pappa's cognizance.

"I didn't want her to see this." Pappa points down.

Klas looks at the tracks with a puzzled countenance, squinting, turning his head. "What am I looking for?"

Pappa looks up at Klas bemusedly. "If you want to be a good tracker, you have to observe all of the details of your prey. Keep looking."

Klas is about to give up when his eyebrows involuntarily rise. "There's just one set."

"Aye. This creature walks with two legs instead of four."

"But, they're obviously not human."

"No, they certainly are not. And only humans walk on two legs."

"Except for birds."

"Well, this bird has five long, sharp toes, all pointing forward. Real birds have three facing forward and sometimes one going backward. Besides, these tracks are too big for any bird."

"Then, what the hell is it?"

"I don't know, Klas, but look over here." Pappa gestures to Klas to follow the tracks to their point of origin, near Carina's grave. "I don't see any more tracks here, but there's plenty of scratches on this tree." Pappa points at an old spruce just a few meters away.

"That's where we heard those sounds last night. You thought it was a lynx."

"Does this look like lynx tracks?"

"No. Far too big and long."

"And again, only back feet. Now let's follow them forward."

They retrace their steps, following the tracks back to where Tia saw her monster, just behind the cottage near her snowman, and stop. "The tracks end here, and one is much deeper than the other. Did it just leap into the sky?"

"Actually, they don't end here." Pappa points forward to where his gaze wandered just moments before. At first, Klas saw nothing, until he squints and sees one lone track some four meters ahead, deeper than the rest, and another at the same four meter distance. Indeed, there are many bizarre looking footprints, all about four meters apart, arcing back toward the woods, with some drops of blood sprinkled in between.

A long, astonished whistle from Klas' puckered lips is followed by a subdued, "wow, such long strides. This thing can run like the wind. I wonder if it suddenly got spooked."

"Let's follow the tracks," which they proceed to do until they reach the treeline, some one hundred meters west of Carina's grave. The tracks continue into the woods, spaced closer together now, about two meters apart, and more difficult to see on account of the ground cover. Eventually they stop some twenty meters into the forest under a thick Scots pine, where they observe scratches going up the bark.

"Whatever this thing is, it seems to be a creature of the forest." Pappa runs his fingers over the scoff marks on the wood.

"And it must have rested on a high branch of this tree for a while."

"Why is that?"

Klas points at the ground about three meters from the trunk on the opposite side of the tree. A large pool of frozen blood covers the ground. "Either it's badly wounded, or it carried its prey across the meadow and up this tree." They both peer up, looking for an animal, but see only branches, pine needles and snow.

"It's probably long gone, or dead. Come now. Let's head back."

"The swiftness of my Lithuanian enabled me to be foremost in the pursuit, and seeing the enemy fairly flying through the opposite gate, I thought it would be prudent to stop in the marketplace, to order the men to rendezvous. I stopped, gentlemen; but judge of my astonishment when in this marketplace I saw not one of my hussars about me! Are they scouring the other streets? What is become of them? They could not be far off, and must, at all events, soon join me. In that expectation I walked my panting Lithuanian to a spring in this marketplace, and let him drink. He drank uncommonly, with an eagerness not to be satisfied, but natural enough, for when I looked round for my men, what should I see, gentlemen! The hind part of the poor creature-croup and legs were missing, as if he had been cut in two, and the water ran out as it came in, without refreshing or doing him any good! How it could have happened was quite a mystery to me, till I returned with him to the town gate. There I saw, that when I rushed in pell-mell with the flying enemy, they had dropped the portcullis unperceived by me, which had totally cut off his hind part, that still lay quivering on the outside of the gate. It would have been an irreparable loss, had not our farrier contrived to bring both parts together while hot. He seemed them up with sprigs and young shoots of laurels that were at hand. The wound healed, and, what could not have happened but to so glorious a horse, the sprigs took root in his body, grew up, and formed a bower over me, so that afterwards I could go upon many other expeditions on the shade of my own and my horse's laurels.*"

Tia placed her copy of "Baron Münchausen" on her lap and observed her Mamma sleeping peacefully as Klas held her hand, sitting on a wooden chair by the bed. Pappa sat next to Mamma on the bed and nodded with satisfaction. "Very good, Tia. Your reading is much improved."

"Thank you," was her flat response, barren and cold. She was still very much perturbed by the events of the long day, which is finally almost over. Pappa's harsh tone by the footprints was a shock to her. He's never spoken to her in such a way. He's always been very serene and benevolent, even when angry. He knows something. I know he does. He's keeping a secret from me. Why else would he be so cross? And that, perhaps, is what is even more disturbing; the secrets, the deception. It WAS a monster, and Pappa knows it. He doesn't want to tell me. He thinks I need to be protected and sheltered. Well, I'm NOT a baby anymore! These thoughts rolled through her mind throughout the day, tormenting her, raising nagging questions. Does Pappa not trust me? Does he think that I cannot handle the truth? Has he lost faith in me? Does he think I'm a liar, or mad? Tia couldn't face Pappa. She stayed with her Mamma for the remainder of the day and much of the night, catering to her every need with diligence and compassion.

Klas kisses Mamma's hand before placing it on the bed. "Well," he says softly with a big stretch and a yawn, "I reckon it's time to turn in. Are you sleeping in here again, Tia?"

Tia gives Pappa a stone-faced glare as she responds gratingly to Klas' query, "I'll go to my OWN bed!" She then swiftly gets up and leaves the room, as wooden as a toy soldier, her head raised high.

"Oh, dear," Pappa sighs. "Maybe I should have a word with her."

"She's just upset. She'll be better tomorrow. And besides, I probably would be upset too if you bit MY head off like you did to her." Klas was never afraid to be bold with his Pappa.

"I'm just trying to protect her."

"...which is fine, but I don't think it was really necessary to hide our findings from her. I mean, is Tia a part of this family or not?"

"I don't want to hide anything from her, but you know how unstable she's been lately. You saw the state she was in last night."

"They're just animal tracks."

"A two-legged animal. What would she think of that? You heard her, insisting that it was a ghoul or some monster."

"Yeah, I know. But I still think it was handled all wrong."

"That's my decision to make, not yours."

Mamma started to shift in the bed while murmuring something. Klas whispered, "we're being too loud. I'll go to bed now, but we're not finished with this." He emphasized his last point by pointing at Pappa with confidence, one of Klas' traits that always made Pappa proud. Klas left before Pappa could respond, and when he entered his bedroom he saw Tia sitting on his bed, still next to her own, with legs crossed and wearing a very stern and downcast expression. Klas sat next to her with a burdened slouch, rubbed her back and sighed. "How are you, tiny tot?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"I'm sorry," Klas responded as he jerked his hand away.

"You both think I'm still a baby, especially HIM!"

"I know you're not a baby, Tia, but you're still my little sister, and I'll never stop caring for you. I'll never stop protecting you."

"I don't need to be protected!"

Klas nodded firmly and said evenly, "very well."

She gives Klas a long, frigid glare before hissing, "I hate him."

"Oh, no, Tia. You mustn't think that. Pappa has so much on his mind, and he was just trying to do what he thought was best for you. Granted, it wasn't handled very well, but..." He couldn't find the right words, being that he was upset with Pappa as well. Eventually he added with a weak breath, "he's trying to keep a brave face, but Mamma's illness has been so hard on him. I've even overhead him weeping quietly by himself a few times."

"So, he's giving up," Tia responded with bitterness.

"He hasn't accepted it yet. And it seems that you haven't either." Klas spoke as tenderly as possible as he put his arm around her.

"I DON'T accept it!" Tia throws off Klas' arm.

Klas sighed and weighed his options as to how to respond. He contemplated telling Tia that Mamma will not live for much longer, that she must come to terms with it. No. It will just make matters worse. Instead he pleaded, "try to forgive him, Tia. He cares for you so much."

"Hmpf!"

"I do too." He tried to brush aside her hair, but she slapped his hand away. Klas was losing patience with her insolence. "You're not the only one that got a fright, you know! Do you have any idea how much you scared the perdition out of all of us last night? Do you know what you were doing?!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what you were doing when you thought you were unconscious! You were flailing about wildly with your eyes bulging and rolled up so only the whites shown! You were foaming at the mouth, and you were screaming some nonsensical gibberish! All that in front of Mamma who woke up terrified!" Klas was livid. His anger boiled over with tempestuous fervor. "Do you know what that did to her?!"

Tia was stammering, breathless, her demeanor more irresolute and contrite. "I... I... didn't... know..."

"Well, now you do! And now maybe you'll understand!" Klas calmed down and risked taking Tia into his arms. She didn't resist. "We're all so worried about you, Tulip. Even Mamma. She knows that she's nearing the end, and still she worries more about you than herself." Klas started weeping slightly as he held Tia tighter. "You've seemed so fragile lately, so moody. I... I don't want to lose you."

Tia wept openly. "I don't want to lose MAMMA!" She hugged Klas back. "Tell me there's still hope, Klas! Please tell me that Mamma will get better!"

"I wish I could," was his whimpering reply, "but if you don't want to be protected, then I have to tell you that she won't."

She released her hug and pushed Klas away. "So, you're giving up, too. I HATE YOU BOTH!" She stormed out of the room and down the stairs with stomping feet.

"Ugh..." Klas slowly lay down on his bed with his face in his hands, emitting exasperated groans and sighs. She doesn't want to be protected, but she obviously still needs it. She's avoiding reality by fantasizing, and the fantasies are deluding her, making her sick. Oh, God! I can't lose her! He couldn't shake a feeling of impending doom.

Why is it possible for us to live in the future of our primary focus?

What are the chances that we will be cleansed from the chorus ringing of floundering concupiscence,

Of shimmergloss mallearecreant submission of our most Stygian consternations?

Why should I, of all mortals, adhere to the sticky murkysage notions of the quadrating helotry of aegis exile?

Oh, if we could just dine in the heart of the Maiden's spear,

Cast aspersions on the dubious constitution of foolish men,

Set aside the exhaustive overments in a tide of importunate onslaughts!

After all, are they so delusional as to believe that we can be sustained by horse feathers?

NAY I say!

NAY to those who curtail the axioms of veracity with deception and smokescreens!

NAY to the false gods of ruination and despondency with their witchy wrathbones of sepulchral drivel,

Their illusions of Devine exultations and fallacious comminations!

For Pappa and Klas to be tools of Pazuzu's dark sword... no, it's unthinkable.

It cannot be.

They are both so profoundly adored.

And yet, they can no longer be trusted.

Where do their devotions lie?

The peckish greedhounds are consuming their closed minds

And sucking the marrow from their serous jellyspines.

The crows await the carcass, the waterwheels await the mites.

The mischeaters abate the rabid dogs of perfidy from the blue satin tundral chasteness.

The bile in the bowels of wicked men,

Sounding off their putrid flatual quakes prior to the horror ravaged beshitting upon the innocent sheep

Grazing upon the fruit of the vines of Gethsemane.

Seething from the caitiff of fools, I will hang high from the spiny entrails of demons,

And bow low into the nauseating whirlpool of nihility,

To the tune of howling bloodhounds sniffing out the malodorous rot of the dead.

This cannot be!

I will not fall victim to the typhlotic hordes of scapegrace neonates,

Their torrid tendrils squirming to the beat of hogshead foreskins and cochlea-shattering tocsins.

I will negate the toxic herd of rapacious despoilers of puerile virtue,

The scurrilous knickersmudged shamtraffickers with their insidious barn burning duplicity.

Damn them all!

And to the unbiased receptors of inquiry,

I bid you peace,

And SAVE ME!

Tia sat in the outhouse, peeing in the hole on the bench, with the oil lantern on the floor beside her. She could have gone in the chamber pot in her room, but she had to get away from everybody, especially Klas. I'd rather smell the stink in here than in the cottage! She shook her tear soaked head slowly with disbelief at the events of the day, the betrayal of trust, the loss of hope.

I'll NEVER lose hope! Mamma will get better. I know she will! How can they quit on Mamma?

That last thought made Tia cry out loud with her face in her hands, rocking vigorously to alleviate the pain. But the pain increased, a feeling of dread that pushed her down onto the floor as she writhed in agony and despair. Tia was about to lose consciousness when the misery quickly receded to just a diminutive pulsating that she sensed coming from outside, until it nearly stopped completely and was replaced by the sounds of distant shallow footsteps in the creaking snow.

The ghoul is back!

Paradoxically, the pulsating phobia receded even more as the impish footsteps grew nearer, until both the fear and footsteps stopped completely when the ghoul was some five meters from the outhouse. Tia's panic was replaced with boldness as she quickly stood and pulled up her knickers.

I'll show them! They won't think I'm mad if they see the ghoul for themselves!

With no plan of action, Tia picked up the lantern and impulsively charged out the door, hoping to surprise the ghoul before attacking it. She rushed headlong toward where she thought she heard the sounds, but nothing was there. Oh, no! Having lost the initiative, Tia panicked and felt exposed. She spun in place like a gyroscope looking for the ghoul, and a quick exit. Quite by accident, after the third spin, did she see a vague unmoving silhouette standing next to her snowman. She shouted out, more due to fear than boldness.

"Who are you?!"

The silhouette did not respond or move, so Tia ran toward it, hoping to catch it off guard. She abruptly stopped midway when the light from the lantern illuminated the apparition.

A child? At first, Tia couldn't believe what she was seeing; a scrawny child, just a few centimeters taller than Tia, with unkempt shoulder length black hair. The child was turned away from Tia, facing the snowman. Disappointment was quickly replaced with relief.

I'm a fool! It's not a ghoul at all! But what about the animal footprints. What made them?

She moved towards the child again, slower this time. "Hello?" Her apprehension increased as she noticed that the child paid no attention to her. He remained stone still with one hand slightly rubbing the snowman. As Tia approached, and as more lantern light bathed the child, she spied his feet, noticing that they are indeed human, but just barely sinking into the snow, only a few centimeters, whereas Tia's were sinking in above her ankles. Also, it just occurred to her, why is he barefoot in this bitter cold snow? Yes, the child's strangeness intensified as more and more light shone upon him, and Tia observed that the child's feet and legs are bare up to above the knees, as well as his arms, all the way above the shoulders. The child smells bad, like rust and rotting meat, and his arms and legs are filthy with dirt, mud and grime, and the hair is crusted likewise, with pine needles and flakes of dead leaves enmeshed in it. But what distressed Tia the most is the child's garment: a tight fitting, knee length hairshirt with spiny branches of hawthorn and blackthorn interwoven in the coarse goat hair fabric. The macabre hairshirt is as filthy as the child, with the back containing long streaks of bloodstains, and smaller stains of bloodspots around the frightening thorns. It was the awful hairshirt that made Tia gasp in shock, loud enough for the child to finally acknowledge her presence.

"You shouldn't be here." The child's voice is slightly lower than Tia expected, with an apathetic monotone.

"I'm... I... I'm sorry..." Tia was stricken with dumbfoundedness and horror that threatened to make her take flight, but she also felt profound pity which compelled her to stay. Why is he wearing that?

"I mean you no harm, but I must caution you all the same." The child still faced away from Tia and caressed the snowman.

You must caution me?! That stuck in Tia's craw. "You're on MY land! YOU shouldn't be here!"

"Of course."

Tia waited a bit, but the child continued to rub the snowman, seemingly unaware that he is not welcome. Finally, she asked, "what are you doing here?"

"Admiring your handiwork."

"Oh. Do you like it?"

"Yes. It is quite lovely."

He speaks like a girl.

"Very beautiful." The child pulled away his cold, snowy hand and deliberately wiped his face with it.

Tia's resentment transformed into intrigue. "Are you from around here?"

The child turned slightly, robotically. He faced the woods and pointed towards it. Tia still couldn't see his face. "Yes, the town past the woods."

"You mean Gävle?"

"If that's what it's called."

Tia was getting suspicious. "You don't know the name of your home town?"

"I stayed for just a brief time." The child continued to face the woods.

"What about before then?"

"I'm always on the move."

Is he a vagabond? That would explain the dirt and lack of clothes. But, my God, that shirt! "Why are you wearing... that?"

"To feel something."

"Um... I see." Alas, he's mad! "I need to go back inside, now. You should go home, too." Tia wants to end this back and forth NOW!

"I have no home."

He IS a vagabond! "What about your parents?"

"I lost them."

"What do you mean?"

"I was taken away from them, and when I returned, they were gone." The child continued to speak in an unemotional monotone, standing perfectly still, facing the trees.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

The child didn't respond. Instead he looked up at the starry night sky and gradually turned towards Tia as he examined the stars, looking at the current locations of Rigel and Aldebaran. "I must go. It's nearly time for my nightly penance."

Tia was too dumbstruck by what she saw to respond to the child's odd announcement. When the child turned towards her, Tia finally realized that the child is actually a girl, very pretty, with large, bewitchingly dark eyes that shimmered in the moonlight. Those eyes could have entranced Tia, the girl's beauty could have enticed her, but for the fact that the girl's complexion was that of a plaster death mask, cold and exsanguinous. But what shook Tia to the core were the dried bloodstains all over the girl's mouth, chin and cheeks, down her neck and soaked through most of the front of her hideous hairshirt. In her state of consternation, Tia managed to stammer out a faint, "M... Mamma..."

"Excuse me?"

Tia composed herself enough to blurt out convulsively, "you're ill! You... Ma... I mean, are you sick?"

The girl slowly and laboriously tilted her head left, right and back, as if to alleviate a pain in her neck, and sighed deeply. "Mmmmm... quite."

"Let us help you. Please! Please don't go!" Tia felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to take the girl's hands and fall to her knees groveling, but she didn't want to scare her away.

The girl looked up to the sky again, with a blank visage. "Thank you, no. I really must leave."

"Please! We can give you warm clothes, a bath, some food and a hot fire. Please come into my house. I want to help you!"

"Why? You don't even know me." The girl turned to look at the moon, and squinted as if she was staring at the sun.

"My name is Tia. That's short for Dulcea."

"Dulcea. What a lovely name," the girl said flatly, continuing to look up at the moon.

"What is your name?"

"Eli."

"Is that short for something?"

Eli closed her eyes tightly while facing the moon, and as a single tear emerged from her left eye and rolled down her cheek, she whispered, "no."

"There. Now we know each other. Now please, come in and get warm." Tia gestured to the back door of the cottage.

Eli slowly moved her head down and gazed directly into Tia's eyes. Tia was lost in the vast orbs of Eli's alluring eyes and everything turned to pitch. She lost all sensations, and she didn't notice Eli's lips curling back. Through the blackness Tia was barely able to discern a faint, blurry pair of aquamarine slits and a frighteningly growling utterance, "are you inviting me in?"

Tia was terrified and helpless. She was unable in her momentary incapacitation to respond in any other way than to whisper with a shiver, "yes."

The spell abruptly broke, and Tia saw Eli looking with a downtrodden countenance at the snowy ground. She pressed her crossed arms onto her chest several times, wincing and hissing in pain each time she did. When Eli was finished she sighed hard and shakily moaned, with a few more tears rolling down her dirty face, "very well, Dulcea. Please lead the way."

Tia entered the back door into the kitchen and quickly hung up her coat, before announcing, "I'm going upstairs to request my brother's assistance. He'll start a fire and we'll melt some snow for your bath." When Eli didn't respond, Tia turned and saw that she was still outside, standing by the door. "Eli? Why are you..."

"Are you sure that I can come in?"

"Please. Don't be frightened. We will take good care of you."

"Say that I can come in." Eli became stoic again.

She is so strange. Perhaps she's scared and needs reassurance.

Tia went back to the door and took Eli's hands while saying in as soothing a tone as she can muster, "please, Eli. Please come into my home. You are perfectly safe here." Tia gradually guided Eli across the threshold while whispering, "it's alright. You are most welcome here. Let this be your home. You will always be among friends here." Tia led her to the drawing room, which is across the parlor on the opposite side of the front entry hall. The drawing room contains another large fireplace, currently out and cold, like all of the fireplaces on the ground floor. It also contains a few couches, easy chairs, a few small tables, more bookshelves, and a large metal bathtub in the center of the room, surrounded by several metal buckets. Two bureaus contained towels and linens. "Are you cold, Eli? I can give you some robes to wear."

"No. Thank you." She stood by a bookcase.

"Well, why don't you sit while I go upstairs to fetch my brother? You'll like him. He's very nice." He'd better be! "Would you like me to keep the lantern in here? I really don't need it. I can go through this house blindfolded."

"You're very kind, but that will not be necessary." Eli stayed still and rigid by the bookcase, looking blankly at nothing.

"Well, I'll keep it here anyway, in case you want to read or something. I'll be back soon." Tia placed the lantern on a table and dashed excitedly out of the room and up the stairs, nearly tumbling over when she barreled into her bedroom.

The raucous noise startled Klas, who sat up with a start. "For God sake, Tia! What are you doing?"

Tia rushed up to Klas and started pulling his arm. "Quick, Klas! Come downstairs and help me! Come, now!"

"Wait a moment! What is this about?"

"Please, Klas! I need your help! The ghoul is in our house!"

"What are you babbling about?!"

"What I thought was a monster isn't really a monster at all, but a child! A sick, destitute child with no family or home! I think she has consumption, just like Mamma. Oh please, Klas! We must help her!"

"Tia! Slow down, please!"

"Damn it, Klas! Will you just come down and help me?!"

"All right! All right! Could you please keep your voice down? Very well. I'll come down to take a look."

"Oh, thank you, dear brother," Tia is whispering now, with less hysterics.

"Don't thank me yet," said Klas with a touch of angry sarcasm as they both went downstairs and headed to the drawing room. When Klas entered the drawing room and saw a ruined, shattered child, with wild and bristly hair, in the sinister flickering lantern light, standing statue still in the exact place where she was when Tia left the room, with the same blank expression, he nearly collapsed from shock. Klas stared at the ravaged child with his jaw slacked. The ravaged child stared at nothing. Finally, Klas collected himself to say to the child, "would you excuse us for a moment?" He then grabbed Tia's arm, roughly pulled her into the entry hall, and whispered brutally, "Tia! What the hell are you thinking?! Have you taken leave of your senses?! That thing in there is clearly mad!"

"Her name is Eli, and she is not a thing!" Tia hissed back.

"I don't care what she is! She's a lunatic and she belongs in a madhouse! For God sake, have you taken a good look at her?!"

"She's not mad, Klas! She's sick and homeless with no parents!"

"Well, I'm sorry for all of that, but she has to go!"

"We can't throw her back out there! She's freezing and starving!"

"She can't be here, Tia! That's final!"

"Oh, no Klas, please! We've got to help her! Please! I promised her that we would help! That we're good people! Are you going to make me out a liar by casting her out?!"

"Oh! Don't give me that!" Klas turned away and rubbed his hair, the guilt landing hard on his soul.

"First you give up on Mamma, and now you're giving up on Eli!"

Klas turned and rushed to Tia, shoving his face in front of hers, and shot out a string of spittle streamed rasps. "Is that what you think this is about!? About Mamma?! That she's going to die of consumption soon, so you want to help a dying child who also has consumption to make yourself feel better?!"

"Just listen to yourself, Klas! Who are you?! I don't know you anymore! Who's the monster here, Eli or YOU!?"

"Don't do this, Tia."

"I HATE YOU!"

"Please, Tia..."

"YOU BASTARD!"

"You watch your mouth!"

"GO TO HELL!" Tia started pounding on Klas' chest with her fists.

"STOP IT!" Klas had forgotten in his anger that Tia's emotional state has been tenuous as of late, so he said the only thing that could possibly salvage the situation. "All right! All right! I will help! Calm down!" Tia stopped beating him, but the rage remained in her face. "Compose yourself!" he whispered through his gnashing teeth as they both reentered the drawing room with mock calmness.

As Klas entered, he spoke with a false authority, "so, um... Eli, is it? Tia and I were discussing the situation, and we're..."

Klas stopped speaking when he noticed that Eli was totally unresponsive, and that she was still standing in the exact same place, rigid and corpse-like, still staring at the same empty space with half-shut empty dead eyes. He shot a wide-eyed, incredulous stare at Tia, who responded with a biting pout and a stomp of her foot. He immediately returned his attention to Eli. This time he stood directly in front of her and crouched down so that he can speak to her eye to eye, and his anger and skepticism immediately melted when he looked closer at this sad, feral creature. Adorable in spite of the grime and blood. So pitiful with the rough, bristly shirt irritating her skin, stabbing her with the thorns enmeshed in the fabric. He saw something strange and felt compelled to investigate. He slowly lifted his right hand and moved it close to Eli's neck. When her eyes widened a little, Klas asked, "may I?" before lifting her fouled hair from one side of her neck. "My God," he whispered to himself when he saw through the blood a small section of a thick, heavy, nickel plated chain linked cilice, each link containing frighteningly long, sharp spikes. The weight of the cilice pressed down severely on Eli's neck, forcing the spikes deep into her flesh, stabbing and gashing Eli's neck and above her shoulders, the gashes and stab wounds bleeding over the old, dry blood, staining the horrible shirt. While Klas examined Eli's neck, he heard her barely whispering through still lips:

et convocata turba cum discipulis suis dixit eis si quis vult post me sequi deneget se ipsum et tollat crucem suam et sequatur me qui enim voluerit animam suam salvam facere perdet eam qui autem perdiderit animam suam propter me et evangelium salvam eam faciet

"Eli." Klas took her bare shoulders in his hands. "Eli." How could I have been so callous. She may be mad, but she's still one of God's creations. "Eli," he spoke as gently as possible. "We're going to do everything we can to make you well. Alright? I'm going to make a fire here and warm up some water for a bath. Bathe for as long as you like, and when you're finished we'll give you some of Tia's warm and cozy clothes."

"I have a lot of clothes. You can have some to keep." Klas didn't know that Tia was sitting behind him on an easy chair.

Klas continued, very serenely, "then we'll wrap you up in blankets where you can sit by the fire with some warm stew. How does all of that sound?"

"Mmm," was her only response.

"You can stay with us. I'm sure Pappa won't mind. Would you like to live here?"

Eli slowly met Klas' eyes with her own. Her eyes were soaking with tears that were threatening to flow out. She shook slightly and moaned, "I can't."

Don't push. "Very well. In the meantime, I've talked long enough. I'll get that fire started."

Klas left Eli in the drawing room, where she continued to stand stiffly with half closed eyes, the tears now dripping down her cheeks, making the dirt run, and she recommended her silent mutterings:

in hac die expiatio erit vestri atque mundatio ab omnibus peccatis vestris coram

Tia stood slowly, observed Eli in her apparent trance-like state, wearing that hideous shirt, I must try to get her out of that awful shirt, and asked Eli in a quiet voice, "Eli? Are you sure you don't want to change into a soft robe now while you wait? I don't mind if it gets dirty."

"No."

"Well, how about you come upstairs to my bedroom. There's a warm fire there."

"No." Domino mundabimini sabbatum enim requietionis est et adfligetis animas vestras religione perpetua

Tia sighed and sat back down with a thud. What happened to her? Why does she torment herself? "Eli? Why do you REALLY wear that?"

"To atone."

"Tia! Leave her alone and help out!" Klas dumped some wood in the fireplace and turned to get more.

As Klas was exiting the drawing room he felt Tia grasp him from behind and give him a warm, tight hug. "Thank you, dearest brother, and I am so sorry for everything I said."

Klas turned and picked up Tia and hugged her while she lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm the one to apologize. I don't want to be cruel to you, ever." He swayed her a few times before he placed her down and said, "come, we have work to do. Gather as much snow as you can for Eli's bath."

Everything was ready; steaming water in the tub. Towels, scrub brushes and lavender scented soap (which Tia made herself) on a table beside the tub. Clean, plush and warm clothes made of deer and mink skins on a chair beside the table, a blazing fire, larger and warmer than usual for their special guest, and a Japanese bamboo room divider with a simple Muromachi period landscape painted on its surface in the Wabi Sabi style placed discreetly between the tub and the entrance into the room. Eli eventually ceased her mumblings to peruse the books while Tia and Klas worked on the preparations. Her interest peaked when she found a Swedish translated copy of a children's book written by James Janeway, called "A Token for Children: Being an exact account of the conversion, holy and exemplary lives, and joyful deaths of several young children."

"Eli. Everything is ready now." Tia failed to get Eli's attention. She was too busy reading the preface to herself:

PREFACE, Containing DIRECTIONS TO CHILDREN.

"YOU may now hear (my dear lambs) what other good children have done, and remember how they wept and prayed by themselves? how earnestly they cried out for an interest in the Lord Jesus Christ; may you now read how dutiful they were to their parents? how diligent at their books? how ready to learn the scripture and their catechisms? Can you forget what questions they were wont to ask? How much they feared a lye, how much they abhorred naughty company, how holy they live, how dearly they were loved, how joyfully they died?

But tell me, my dear children, and tell me truly, do you do as these children did? Did you ever see your miserable state by nature? Did you ever get by yourself and weep for sin and pray for grace and pardon? Did you ever go to your father and mother, master, or mistress, and beg of them to pity you, and pray for you, and to teach you what you shall do to be saved, what you shall do to get Christ, heaven and glory? Dost thou love to be taught good things? Come tell me truly, my dear child, for I would fain do what I can possibly to keep thee from falling into everlasting fire. I would fain have thee one of these little ones, which Christ will take into his arms and bless. How dost thou spend thy time? It is in play and idleness, and with wicked children? Dare you take God's name in vain, or swear, or tell a lye? Dare you do any thing which your parents forbid you, and neglect to do what they command you? Do you dare to run up and down upon the Lord's day? Or do you keep in to read your book, and to learn what your good parents command you? What do you say, child? Which of these two sorts are you of?**"

Above the ever present, searing pain which she has accepted as her just punishment, Eli felt a gentle, loving touch on her bare shoulder. The compassionate voice of Klas followed. "Eli, your bath is ready." She slowly met Klas' gaze, and saw Tia standing beside him, reaching out to her with welcoming hands, nodding and smiling. Eli returned the smile and gave the book to Klas before taking Tia's hands and allowing herself to be guided to the tub, thinking in her fuzzy, blood deprived brain:

I am not worthy of their hospitality. I am damned, condemned to an empty existence of death and decay. I should leave. These wonderful children are in grave danger. I should go before the devil consumes me.

But it was too late. The close proximity to these living, breathing, selfless souls was awakening the beast in her, the bottomless hunger, the insatiable lust to drink from the forbidden fruit of the vine. The anxiety spiked, along with the distorted buzzing in her vertigo-spinning head. Why do you suffer so? You don't need to. Do what you have to do. It's your nature now. Feel relief from your pain, the ecstasy of blood, the elixir of life.

No! You have no hold over me! Crawl back in your cave! Foul spirit of Hell! Be gone! Oh, dear Lord Jesus, guide me. Save them from my damned soul. Please, Lord Jesus. Live in me so that I may no longer live! Please! Save them!

Eli shoved Tia away with a force which startled both Tia and Klas. Tia could have been injured if not for the good fortune of having been pushed towards Klas, who caught her just before her head nearly hit the floor. Eli yelled with a growl, "STAY AWAY!" She immediately fell hard on her knees and began pounding her chest, impaling her fists on the thorns in her shirt, and rocking while muttering:

Deponere vos secundum pristinam conversational veterem hominem, qui corrumpitur secundum desideria erroris. Renovamini autem spiritu mentis vestræ, et induite novum hominem, qui secundum Deum creatus est in justitia, et sanctitate veritatis

"Are you hurt?" asked a shaken Klas as he lifted up Tia and cradled her.

"No, Klas. Thank you. But, what about Eli? She is so deeply disturbed. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know, either. I'm having second thoughts about her being here. She's clearly mad, Tia, and she could be dangerous."

"No, Klas. She's just scared and ill, and she seems to have strange religious beliefs."

"That's what worries me." Klas sat Tia down on a chair as he approached Eli and observed her babbling in Latin while pounding on her chest, writhing in severe pain with each strike, her hands and forearms slashed and bloody. "Eli! Stop it! Snap out of it!" He grabbed Eli's shoulders and shook her. That had the desired effect as Eli immediately stopped and glared at Klas with astonishment and shame.

"Forgive me. I... I..." She stood up, wincing in pain, and said flatly, "I should go."

Tia jumped up. "No, Eli! Please stay! We'll help you! Please!"

"It's your decision, Eli," said Klas, partly hoping in secret that she'll go. "but we've prepared everything for you," gesturing to the bath. "It would be a waste if the effort went for naught."

"Thank you." Eli reverted back to her stoic exterior as she walked stiffly toward the tub. Klas and Tia noticed a fresh pool of blood where Eli kneeled, and glanced at her legs, which are now running with streams of fresh blood. As she walked, she peeled off her shirt with a cry of agony as the thorns were pulled out of her flesh, making a sickly ripping sound. She didn't wait until she was behind the room divider, and both Klas and Tia saw the copious amount of terrible puncture wounds in the red, irritated skin of her back and buttocks, dripping with blood, as well as long streaky scars and scabs, too numerous to count. Tia was horrified as she threw her face in Klas' belly. He picked up Tia and allowed her to weep in his shoulder and shake with fear. Klas continued to stare with morbid fascination as Eli proceeded to pull off the cilice and emit an even more pronounced weeping shriek of pain. She let the cilice drop from her hands with a thunderous clank on the floor next to her hairshirt and finally stepped behind the room divider and into the tub. Klas stared at the bulky cilice, at least five kilos in weight, with absolute revulsion as he noted the spikes covering each thick chain link. The spikes are about two centimeters long and coated in blood. The cilice also contains a pendant, an enormous crucifix nearly the size of Eli's chest, with a macabre, writhing Christ on one side and more spikes on the other, covering the backside of the crucifix like the surface of a Judas chair, splashed with more blood and even some embedded bits of flesh and gore, the sight of which compelled Klas to flee with Tia in his arms.

Klas carried Tia upstairs and into the bedroom, laid her down on her bed and kissed her on the forehead. "Sleep, Tulip. It's been a hard day."

"No, Klas. I want to help Eli."

"I'll take care of her. You need to rest."

"YOU need to rest. You need to wake early and do your chores."

"I'll manage. Please, Tia."

"I don't know if I can. I'm afraid that I may have bad dreams."

"Eli will be fine. I'll take good care of her. I promise." He kissed her again and tucked her in.

"All right. I'll try." She turned her head and closed her eyes.

Tia doesn't need this. She's fragile enough. This situation may push her over the edge.

As Klas was about to leave the room and head downstairs, he heard Tia's little voice. "Klas, I'm sorry that I was angry with you. You're the best brother in the world."

"Thank you, sweetie, but you don't need to say it again. Sleep now."

"Klas, why does she wear those awful things?"

"I don't know, Tulip, but she's obviously very troubled. Don't think about it, now. Think peaceful thoughts and sleep." How will I ever exorcize that vision from my mind?

"Very well. Goodnight."

A single rusty tear drips into the stagnant pool, with crimson ripples and submerged bones of decayed jackals, reflections of grey clouds and dead trees, a mercury rain wasting the arid soil to muddy soot, soaking in the graves of bloated mortrot, wasted shells of calcinated homesteads, a byproduct of war's cleansing baptism, and a solitary raven circling the clouds, searching, seeking... what? Prey? A mate? Answers? To ingurgitate itself with death, with life? To generate terror for sustenance and amusement, to toss entire families in the pit of the Amphitheatrum Flavium? The bloodlust of thousands demand to be conciliated to satiation, with severed heads and disgorged bowels, with shattered passions and damned souls. Take heed, you follymouthed wenches of hating harpy dystopian vulgate dictums, you pearly swines of beatitudal canards! I will STOOP to meet your turgid steaming coprofables head on. I will SWOOP like the ravenous raven, perch on the crossbeam, pluck out the eyes of the condemnable credenda, peel the skin off of the maxims of malice. Take heed, you deplorable demons of doubtless doubletalk, you pusillanimous pubic crab lice! I spit on your vile platitudes, your suicidal directives, your biblical bile! Pastor Castor, the steely snake, is farting argotuous claptrap out of his woolgathering rectal mouth from the pulpit of fools, and the mindless herd of obnoxious pinheads ingest the venom and perish on the plutocrat's alter of lies.

But soft, methinks approach the celiactic grumblings of bygone tempestuous strife, of tumescent effluvium of odorous squawks of the dark raven, as the crone stirs her vodka with a rusty nail and tsks at the tipsy sailor. And the one eyed cyclops with the inverted crucifix tattoo bends over, awaiting the entry of the oiled impaling post, praying for the extinguishment of propensity. And the burning witches light the street like a pleasant sunshiny day, with skipping children and goading mothers parading to the Church of the Blessed Mother of Maledictions, soiling their briefs from the afternoon's turkey neck vindaloo. And the queen of the whoregalley sails through Gibraltar without the aid of lubrication. She disembarks in Cyprus, setting up shop in Kyrenia, and is immediately set alight in the golden plaza of Chrysopolitissa, accompanied by dancing, mustachioed Turks juggling their scimitars and passing zurna gas to the tunes of Ğazi. I cannot awaken. I cannot be set free from this rampageous pageant. I find a staircase, heading down steeply into a spinning tunnel dug deep into the Earth. The vortical spinning accelerates as I race down the stairs, until the staircase itself spins wildly. I hang on to the bannister tightly as I forge ahead, catching sight of a flaming light deep below, chimney red and pumpkin orange. Severe vertigo forces grainy vomit from my mouth and nose, splaying out with the spinning helix of the stairwell as the winds increase, the heat rises and becomes stifling, the red orange light is closer as I realize that it is a raging inferno, the flames kicking high up the stairwell, being fueled by the winds. The air ripples like the sea, scorching and toxic. The baking heat deters my progress, the tornadic whirling prevents my retreat, but the loss of my grip on the bannister decides my path as I fall toward the flames of Hell with an involuntary scream from my melting lungs and the whirlpool stairwell becomes a perfect vertical drop.

I fall hard on the solid surface of a dingy dry grotto. It's no longer hot and there is no sign of any fires other than a distant flickering candlelight on the far end of the grotto. The flickering flame shrinks and the darkness of the cavern is gradually replaced by ghostly, semi-luminescent buildings of various sizes, transversed by wooden walkways and streets of brick and dirt. The aurora borealis is in the sky, along with fireflies and moths. The neighborhood is devoid of all human life, and looks vaguely familiar as I attempt to navigate through the confusing maze, looking for a way out of this abandoned town. I want to go home. I want to take care of Mamma. I want to ask Pappa and Klas for forgiveness. I wander through streets, past faint, shimmering buildings that are only slightly recognizable, not knowing precisely where to turn, until, quite by accident, I stumble upon the home of Fru Tulin, phantasmal and neglected, with massive, broken down, haunted warehouses across the street. But Fru Tulin doesn't live in an industrial area. Nevertheless, I knock on her door. I need her help. She would know how to get me home. Before waiting for an answer, I suddenly find myself in the house, now completely gutted and dark, with missing floorboards and gaping holes in the walls. I call out to Fru Tulin, but receive no response. For some reason other than an uncontrollable compulsion, I crawl into one of the holes to look for her, and find myself back in the barren grotto, the flickering candlelight at the far end, the hole gone, and echoes of piercing scratching sounds surrounding me. I panic when I realize that the scratching is coming from scurrying rats and I immediately attempt to flee, but my legs are paralyzed. The rats are everywhere, the grotto is infested. I tuck my useless, shriveled legs up and run with all of my strength with my arms and hands. With no destination and surrounded by rats biting my arms, I hobble towards the candle flame, which grows larger and more distant, and as the distance inconceivably grows, the flame multiplies and expands into a blazing fire. Several more rat bites were the final straw as I lunge hard at the firelight and land hard on my feet, miraculously useful again, in the drawing room, the fireplace active with a sizable fire. The room spins, pulsates and glows with a blinding flare, and I see Klas on a couch with his head tilted back severely and his eyes half closed with only the whites showing. A small child with a mass of black hair, wrapped in a thick fur blanket, is half lying next to him with her head on Klas' arm. It takes me a moment to realize that the child is Eli, the sick vagabond. Neither of them are moving and I assume the worst. They both look dead! I attempt to approach them, but the spinning room makes it difficult. When I finally reach Klas, the room stabilizes and dims to an acceptable level. I shake him gently and he immediately awakens.

"Tia? I thought you were asleep," Klas mumbles, bleary eyed, moving his head to and fro as if he didn't know where he was.

"I was," whispers Tia, also a bit disoriented, "until I found myself here." Eli stirs a bit and Tia sits next to her.

"You must me sleepwalking again."

"I don't know."

"Let me help you back to bed."

"I don't think so... too many strange dreams." Tia places her arm on Eli. "How is she, Klas? Will she get better?"

Klas sighs heavily. "I don't know, Tulip. She's all cleaned up, probably for the first time in months." He gestures with his head toward the tub, filled with bloody water that is tainted with dirt, plant matter, lice, fleas and maggots. "But," he adds with emphasis, "she refuses to eat. I tried to convince her, but to no avail." Klas shakes his head. "At least Mamma tries a little, but Eli?" He sighs again. "She must eat, Tia. She's severely malnourished. Probably has been for much of her life. Do you know that she's twelve years old?"

"I thought she was my age. We're about the same height and..."

"And she's much thinner than you. I actually thought she was younger than you, but her face is more mature, so when she told me that she's twelve, I believed her."

"What else did she tell you?"

"Not much, except that she and her family were peasant farmers from somewhere around Norrköping, and that they were vassals of a tyrannical lord, but I don't believe it."

"Why not? You believed that she's twelve."

"This isn't Russia, Tia. Serfdom was abolished in Sweden hundreds of years ago."

"Why would she make that up?"

"I don't know," Klas says wearily. "Possibly to play on my sympathies. What I know for certain is that THOSE are definitely real." He gestures again with his head, this time toward the cilice and hairshirt which were moved to the corner of the room.

Tia emits a lamenting moan when she sees the hideous, prickly accoutrements, but when she sees the massive crucifix with the gore covered spikes, she gasps. "Oh my God, Klas! The crucifix! She was pounding that into her chest!"

"Don't look, Tia." Klas immediately regrets pointing them out to her.

"I don't understand. Why... why?" Tears start welling up in her distressed eyes.

"She's an ascetic. It's the only thing that makes any sense."

"What is that? Asce... asc..."

"Ascetic. A religious person who denies themselves worldly pleasures, sometimes to the extreme of self torture and starvation."

"I don't understand."

"Some Christian ascetics try to emulate the agonies that Christ endured, to atone for the world's sins, or their own."

"Eli did tell me that she wears those things to atone."

"Yes, I overheard that. So, between that, the homeless wanderings, her lack of hygiene, the denial of food and the Latin chanting, undoubtedly biblical passages," Klas pauses to shake his head slowly. "Why would someone so young feel the need to live like that?"

"I bet she ran away from home so she can be as... cetic?"

Klas continues to shake his head, even more slowly. "Mmm. But why?"

Eli stirs some more and opens her eyes. When she sees Tia sitting beside her, she reaches out to her, whispering, "Dulcea, my friend." She embraces Tia, places her head on Tia's chest and nods off again with Tia in her arms.

Tia slowly lays down on the couch with Eli in tow, softly petting her hair. "My God, Klas," Tia whispers. "She's exhausted."

"Well, it's understandable, considering what she's been through."

"I hope she changes her mind and decides to stay with us."

"Aye, well that's her decision to make."

"Mmm." Tia pets Eli's hair some more and feels forlorn when she sees several white strands mixed in with the jet black locks. She points them out to Klas. "Have you seen this?"

Klas nods with a frown. "I have." He leaves it at that as he gets up from the couch. "I need to sleep, Tia. I have to get up early."

"I'll sleep here with Eli." Tia wraps her arms around Eli like a new mother protecting her baby. "Could you get me a pillow and another blanket before you go upstairs?"

"Of course." Klas kisses Tia's forehead.

"And get those awful things out of here." She looks at the cilice and hairshirt.

"Right away." As Klas stands upright, he sees Mamma in the doorway. "Mamma! Why are you down here?"

"I heard some commotion and was wondering what was going on." Mamma steps in with considerable effort. "You're up so late, Klas."

"Tia and I have been busy. You shouldn't be up and about, Mamma."

"Oh, pooh! I need to move around once in a while." She hobbles closer to the couch. "Dulcea's up late, also? What have you two been up to?" She finally reached the couch and was about to sit when she sees Tia and Eli. "Oh, my goodness, who is this?"

Klas quickly responds quietly, "Her name is Eli. Tia found her outside freezing and starving. She's very ill and destitute, with no parents and no home. We've been taking care of her."

"Please don't be upset, Mamma," Tia pipes in. "Eli's in a very bad way, and I couldn't just leave her out there."

Mamma gingerly sits on the couch, clearly weak in spite of her stubbornness. "How can I be upset? You're doing the right thing, and I'm very proud of both of you." She rubs Tia's leg.

"You may be upset if I tell you that I've asked Eli to live with us."

Mamma shakes her head slowly with a smile. "You would be wrong, Dulcea. I wouldn't be upset at all, but that decision is ultimately up to your Pappa, and I'm sure he wouldn't object." She takes a closer look at Eli. "She's adorable, but I can see that she's quite ill. So pale and gaunt." As Mamma lightly brushes Eli's hair with her skeletal fingers, she casually glances up to the bathtub, and her casual glance instantly transforms into stupefied horror. "What in the world..." she whispers, wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mamma," Klas says, slightly panicked, after quickly moving in front of the tub to block her view. "She was quite a mess, so she took a bath. I'll dump it out with Pappa's help tomorrow, then scrub it clean."

"... all that blood..."

Klas emits a labored sigh as he nods, "Aye..."

"She's very sick." Tia's crying as she holds Eli tighter.

Mamma takes Tia's head in her hands. "Oh, my baby. Don't be frightened." She kisses her cheek. "I'm sure that Eli will get well, and you're taking such good care of her." She tucks the blanket tighter around Eli. "Pappa will take good care of her too. I know he will, and Fru Tulin as well."

"Oh. I didn't know she was coming so soon. She couldn't have already received Pappa's letter." Klas is a bit disappointed. He was hoping that the snowfall would delay Fru Tulin's return, and extend his break from his studies.

"Oh, no. Of course not. But Pappa's going to make other arrangements to have her come here so that you and he can take old Klara to Herr Ljungstrand."

"What is this about Klara?" Tia has known that the old cow might be replaced, but she's saddened all the same.

"Yes, Herr Ljungstrand bought Klara, so Pappa will deliver her with Klas' help." Mamma takes Tia's hand when she sees her disappointment. "It's for the best, sweetie." She tries to sound sympathetic. "We need a younger cow for fresh milk, and Pappa doesn't have the heart to put her down. You and I will remain here with Fru Tulin. She'll take good care of us, and hopefully Eli as well." Mamma gently pets Eli's soft hair and notices the wiry white strands. She sighs, "poor child. I can only pray that Eli and I are both still with you all when Fru Tulin arrives." Tia looks away and squeezes Mamma's hand while whimpering to herself.

Klas takes Mamma's free arm. "Come, Mamma. You need to rest, and I need to go to bed. I've been up long enough."

"You go ahead, dear." Mamma pats Klas' hand. "I want to sit with Dulcea and Eli for a little longer."

"Don't forget the extra pillow and blanket, Klas," Tia chimes in.

Klas waves a mocking salute and smiles. "Aye aye, captain," and as he turns he sees the hairshirt and cilice. I better hide those before Mamma sees them. He discreetly backs up and kicks them under a chair as Mamma attends to Tia and Eli as if they were both on their death bed. The room suddenly erupts with booming rasps of wet hacking as Mamma keels over onto the floor, coughing up copious amounts of blood. Klas rushes back to support her as Eli is startled awake and scoots to the edge of the couch. "Breathe, Mamma! Breathe!" Klas pleads as he holds Mamma up to prevent her head from hitting the floor. Eli shakes her head fiercely while backing away. Tia is panic stricken as she smacks her hands to her mouth and screams while Mamma continues to cough up more blood and seizes. Klas yells at Tia, "get Pappa!" and Tia rushes upstairs, and no one notices that Eli ran off into the chill night.

*Rudolf Erich Raspe "Baron Münchausen's Narrative of his Marvellous Travels and Campaigns in Russia"

**James Janeway "A Token for Children: Being an exact account of the conversion, holy and exemplary lives, and joyful deaths of several young children"