Giver28

It wasn't until we'd packed up our belongings that I noticed Girl barking or the rain that mingled with the cool breeze. Color, sensation, smell…it had all left me, abandoned me when I longed to feel the world more than ever.

Hair damp, clothes sticking to my body, I stuffed my blanket into my pack and ignored the freely-given affection of my only friend. Girl nudged me with her wet nose, begging for the attention I feared giving. If she licked my face she would taste my bitterness.

"Erik," The Shadow said.

I stared at the ground briefly before I lifted my gaze.

"I'm not angry with you," he said.

No, I thought to myself. It was worse than anger.

"I'm afraid for you," he said flatly.

With a slow nod I looked away and wondered if he feared for me or if he feared for his own safety while in my presence.

For two hours we walked in silence. The rain cleared and the day turned tepid and bright. Girl continued to bounce around me, licking at my fingers and rearing up until I finally agreed to throw her a stick. She bounded forward, scrambling around Moon until she retrieved the stick and brought it back. For an animal who'd nearly died, she showed amazing resilience.

Tragically, I no longer shared her optimism. I felt closer to death than ever before.

As we passed a herd of noisy sheep, I considered my actions and soon began to wonder if I was at fault. I hadn't hit the man, nor had I brutalized his daughter. True, she'd been bruised, but it wasn't intentional. I didn't even know if it was my doing. She could have very well bumped into a tree or fallen over a rock. I was not the only one in the woods, either.

Suddenly I looked up and caught my uncle's eye.

"Best not to dwell," he said. "What happened is in the past. It could have been better or it could have been a great deal worse."

"He wanted to kill me."

"True. And you wanted to kill him as well."

"Because he kicked me." The mere thought of it sent my blood racing through my veins.

He sighed and gave a nod. "His daughter should not have been racing about the woods like a blind, mad fool. You should have told me immediately that she ran into you, especially when you returned and found her father in our camp. He should not have reacted so strongly and most certainly should not have reacted in such a violent manner."

"And I should not have threatened him?"

He was silent a moment.

"Uncle?"

He licked his lips. "There is no simple answer. I will not tell you that it is wrong to defend yourself when you are threatened, but..."

Breath held, I waited, anxious for his words.

"You're stronger than you know, Erik. You're tall, and I highly doubt Arthur knew you were only thirteen years of age. I doubt he would have threatened you if he'd known." He shook his head. "But that is not my point. You changed the moment you realized what had happened. The look in your eyes, the way you stood…you were not the same boy I've known these past weeks."

I bowed my head and shuddered. He was correct. I wasn't the same boy he'd whisked away from the seaside village. My shell had cracked and a monster had been born in the wake of fear.

"If you allow rage to hold sway, you may find that you've hurt more people or taken more lives than you could possibly imagine. Is that what you want?"

"No." I didn't know what I wanted other than to feel like a normal boy, and what exactly that entailed completely eluded me. I felt somewhat better than I had, but no less confused. "Then what must I do?" I asked.

He exhaled. "That's a good question."

My shoulders dropped at his lack of an absolute answer. Girl whined for me to throw her stick and I complied, whipping it much further than before to keep her occupied.

"Have you ever wanted to kill someone?"

He looked at me and frowned. "Yes, Erik, I have."

"But you didn't?"

His lips twitched. "Anger has gotten the best of me in the past. Once. But I will never allow it to do so again because I regret it deeply."

My eyes widened in horror at his revelation and fascination with his words. I felt no fear when I looked at him, merely…kinship. I offered a weak, tentative smile of acceptance. Girl returned and I threw her stick again. My tribe had changed, twisted before my very eyes. I wasn't certain how I felt about it, but I saw him as a stronger, more powerful man than ever before. Danger fascinated me in a way I found both sickening and tantalizing. Undiscovered possibilities danced through my mind. In him I saw fault and redemption, weakness overcome by power…my childhood and my adult life.

"Erik," he said suddenly. His gaze had hardened and I felt the need to stand straighter and earn his approval. He stared at me as though he understood what ran through my mind. "You do not want to become me."

But I did. More than ever. He showed me, perhaps unintentionally, that he was both a faulted man and a god.

I looked away from him and chewed on my lip, which hurt because, just like my nose, it was swollen and tender.

"Who was he?" I asked.

Long, dreadful silence passed and I gave up hope that he would answer. I'd finally done it, I thought, finally overstepped the invisible boundary.

At last I glanced at him and found him staring at me. He looked older, more tired than before.

"He was my son's father."

I swallowed hard. "Which one?" I whispered.

"Phelan," he answered. "I was away at sea for three months when a man entered my house. Joshua hid under his bed but my wife was not so fortunate. He left her, bleeding and blinded by his fists, near the well by our old house. Joshua found her the following morning. When I returned from sea that same week, she told me of a man with a long, red beard and mismatched eyes. The next day I decided to question a few of my friends, see if they'd seen or heard of him. It was then I discovered her attacker was fool enough to remain in town."

"And you killed him?"

"Anger overtook reason." He glanced at me, and before I could ask him, he elaborated. "He was living at an inn across town and I heard him bragging to several fishermen. Your father was amongst them. The two of them were gambling with the others, and the man had been caught cheating. Your father pinned him to the wall, which is how I found him."

He grew quiet for a moment. "When the commotion broke up and the rest of the fishermen left, I pulled him aside, asked him his name, and questioned him about a woman who'd been beaten. Never said her name or that I was her husband. He looked me dead in the eye and told me exactly what he'd done to her. He spoke without remorse, without any sense of feeling."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. I asked if he'd wanted money or food and he said he'd wanted neither. He'd wanted her, and he thought he'd take her and kill her." His voice remained even and I found myself walking a step behind him. "Broke his neck when I pushed him down the stairs, treating him with the same amount of humanity he'd treated my wife."

I had nothing to say or to do other than blink at him. His voice was like ice, his expression hardened almost beyond recognition.

"It wasn't my intention to kill him. I'd wanted to frighten him, but I pushed him harder than I thought, or he fell at an angle I hadn't intended…it doesn't matter. He died. I killed him and told the innkeeper that I'd seen him stumble from his room and miss the first stair. No one questioned my story any more than they questioned my wife, who said she'd fallen and blackened her eyes."

My hands began to shake and I felt tears prick my eyes for the people who were my family, if only in name.

"Three months later I discovered my wife was with child. I'd not touched her, left her alone at her request. I had no regrets then for what I'd done. Yet, still it haunts me, this image of a man at the bottom of the stairs, his neck horribly twisted, his lifeless eyes open. He took my wife's life away as well, and I lived with her death…every day until she finally ceased to breathe and we buried her, me and my sons."

Girl returned with the stick in her mouth and forced it into my hand. A moment's distraction and my attempt at questioning came to an end. There was little for me to say in response, and as my uncle strolled ahead of me, I knew he no longer wished to speak.

"I have unintentionally burdened you, my son," he mumbled. "An old man should know when to keep himself silent."

"No," I replied quickly. "I trust you—with everything."

He looked at me and smiled. Unexpectedly he placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

"We have a long ways to go," he said.

I wasn't certain if it was the road ahead he referred to, but I shivered and wondered if we would make it.