Chapter Twelve
Dreams Become Ashes
The cavern was probably the best one that they've had to search for so far. It was dry, and was uninhabited save for the occasional spider and lizard. There was a system of mirrors that reflected the sun's light into the cave, so it was bright and easy to see. Shukaku pressed deeper inside, along with Gaara, while Hinata trudged behind. Both of the ancient demons seemed to share an unbelievable sense of curiosity, which would've been funny if one wouldn't tear her apart just for looking at him the wrong way. So she kept to herself and diligently trudged behind them.
After moving through one last bend in the cavern, they entered the chamber. It was filled with treasure, from coins and bars of precious metal, to jewels and necklaces, bracelets, and rings. She saw headdresses made of all sorts of precious material, and, on an altar at the back was a simple wooden staff. It looked like the kind that was fond in the woods as a stick and was taken back home and had its ends rounded off. She was trying to comprehend the fact that they had come all this way for a stick, when something caught her eye.
In the corner was a necklace. It appeared to be made of gold, and had a largish amethyst in the center, but it was caked in dust and dirt. Nevertheless, it drew her attention. It was pretty, and she liked it, dirt and all. At length, she decided that it was best just to leave it alone, since Gaara liked to destroy things that she liked, or twist them into some sort of punishment. She turned her attention back to Gaara, who rolled his eyes in disdain and focused on the staff again.
"Prepare to dodge, father, I believe there is some sort of trap rigged here." Gaara grasped the staff, and a loud groan was heard just before a giant scythe on a rope came swinging down at them. The rope, however, had long since decayed and snapped, sending the blade crashing down and sailing into Hinata. The flat caught her arm and wrenched it painfully, bringing tears to her eyes. The scythe finished its journey into a wall, where it fell with a clang.
"You know, oh intelligent one, when I warned my father to dodge, I thought that you'd be smart enough to take heed as well. I won't be overestimating you again." Gaara gazed at her in a curious mixture of amusement and exasperation. Shukaku went to her side and examined her arm.
"Her shoulder is dislocated, and she has a stress fracture just below the socket. She's going to need help descending the slopes, Gaara." Many places were too steep to walk normally, and she was forced to use her hands to help her balance. To make matters worse, it was her right arm that was injured. She was tearing up, but was bravely trying to hold it in. Gaara was unmoved, however.
"Just pop it back in, she'll be fine. We'll need to come back here with more than just one wagon. We'll take the staff then. I don't want any human snooping in our rooms to take it."
"You're taking the trinkets too? That's strange."
"Not really, they can pay for our trip back. I've spent enough money on this venture."
"No, you just like things of historical significance and things that are different. You've always been a collector, my son."
"So? Finders keepers," he huffed as he stalked out of the cave. Shukaku chuckled lightly; then turned his attention back to Hinata.
"I'll help you down the slopes, alright? I'm going to push the shoulder back into its socket, and it's going to hurt, child. I am sorry for your pain, but you will suffer far more if we leave it, and the sooner this is over with, the better. Ready? One, two, three!" he grasper her shoulder firmly and popped it back in place. She gasped and gagged from the pain, but obediently held still. She was grateful that he was demon, because he could get it done fast, whereas a human would've taken forever. Shukaku carefully wrapped it in a sling he made from their scarves, and then helped her down the slopes, warning her not to put any weight on it for at least the day, until he could get a better look at her back at the inn.
The little girl was waiting for them, having been with the others all day. Gaara paid her no mind one way or another, but Shukaku gave her a fond pat on the head. Hinata was coaxed into playing a game of cards with the girl, but was forced to turn in early when Gaara grew impatient.
Once in the room, he seized her wrist and drew out a bead of blood. She shuddered from the pain, but held still. It was just easier to give him what he wanted sometimes. He left her and etched a familiar symbol on the wooden table. Her blood was added, and he gazed into the cloudy image. The vision was difficult to make out, but since he was in such close proximity to his goal it wasn't so bad. He added a fine white powder to it, and it glowed blue. He then cut his finger, and squeezed a few drops onto the vision. It glowed red. He smiled triumphantly. It was real after all.
Later on that night, when everyone was asleep, it seemed, Gaara went out hunting. His first victim was a prostitute, and he tore into her throat greedily. But it wasn't enough, nowhere near enough, and he viciously slit her throat to hide his fang marks. He then went in search of another. The gang that he surprised were out by the canyon, and too far away from the city for anyone to hear there screams. One by one he fed off of them, and he threw the bodies into the canyon, after cutting their throats of course. He hissed in frustration. It wasn't the same, it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted that.
Fifteen others met their demise that night, and he disposed of them all, hiding their bodies in the woods, mountains, or canyons. He let lose a horrific shriek of rage and frustration, one that echoed for what seemed like forever. It wasn't enough, no where near enough. He was full, but he wasn't satisfied. Why wasn't he satisfied? He had fed off of twenty! It should've been more than enough, and, indeed, he felt bloated from it, but why was he still left with this sensation of emptiness?
Furious, frustrated, and confused, he flew off to the inn. No one was awake at this hour to see him anyway, so he wasn't concerned. His father was there to greet him.
"How many?"
"Twenty," Gaara responded. Shukaku stared at him in surprise.
"You should go lie down and let your body process all that. What's the matter?"
"It wasn't enough."
"What do you mean, it wasn't enough? You had twenty!"
"I don't know. I'm full, but not, satisfied. They weren't the ones I wanted."
"Then what did you want?"
"I don't know, father. This has never happened before. One minute I was fine, the next I was overcome by the thirst, and I needed to feed. I'm bloated, but the thirst is still there."
"I trust you took care of things?"
"Of course, I wasn't that far gone."
"I see. I'll see you in the morning, my son. Goodnight."
Shukaku was frantic, searching for her everywhere for a month and a half. She wasn't anywhere to be found. Where was she? Who could've taken her? And why did they take her? He flew through the air like an arrow, searching, hoping, and failing to find her.
However, he had finally gotten a tip. A blond woman who was heavily pregnant was seen traveling with two men, heavily bound and gagged. They were supposed to be staying at a shack along the road. So here he was, flying through a bitterly cold rainstorm in the middle of the night. He was flying as fast as he could when he came upon her. She was lying in the middle of the road, covered in blood.
"Karura!" He landed and darted over to her, cradling her close. Her stomach wasn't swollen anymore.
"Shuky," she breathed softly. She coughed, and blood flecked out of her mouth. He moaned in desperation, and tried to work his healing magic on her, but he already knew it was too late. She had gone into labor, and the child's energies had ripped her apart. The ones who took her had consigned her to death.
"I-it's too l-late f-for that, Shuky. P-please, listen."
"I'm here, Karura, I'm here." He rocked her back and forth, and he used his wings to keep her out of the rain.
"I-it was Yashamaru a-and the one I-I was s-supposed to marry. They took him away, Shuky! I didn't even get to hold him long enough to say good-bye! They pulled our son from my arms!" she cried then, her sobs shaking her form. Shukaku's heart clenched in his chest.
"Our son?"
"They took him, but not before I named him. I named him Gaara; it was the only protection and warning I could give him! I didn't know what else to do! You have to find him, they were heading north. Save our son!" She clutched at him desperately.
"I will, Karura, I will, I swear. But I can't leave you alone. I will find our son, my love, I swear."
"He t-tried to protect me. He saved me from that man; he keeps calling himself Lord Kazekage, as if he were some sort of king. He tried to rape me, but Gaara stopped him, even before he was born, he was using magic. Y-you w-were right, h-he is st-strong. You h-have to find him, this wasn't h-his fault."
"I know, Karura. Shh, my love, my princess. Rest easy now, I will find our son, don't worry." Shukaku smoothed her hair from her face. She sighed softly.
"I love you, Shuky."
"I love you too, Karura." She didn't respond.
"Karura?" he shook her gently, but it was too late. She was gone. He let loose a wail of despair that shook the very skies.
The next morning he built a funeral pyre for her. There was some sort of legend that went with it, but he couldn't remember what it was. He mostly built it because he couldn't stand the thought of her rotting in the ground, to be food for the worms. No, this way was better, then, at least, her soul could fly free.
Her ashes swirled, and he wasn't sure if it was her soul or just the wind. Did it really matter? She was gone now, somewhere where couldn't reach her, no matter what he did. He pulled out a glass vial and scooped some of her ashes into it, then put the cork in it tightly. He would keep this much of her, at least. It seemed like only yesterday that she was laughing with him as their child nudged his way around her womb. Now his dreams have become ashes.