Chapter Four: Scratching The Earth
Twigs snapped underfoot like frail bones. I had no concept of where I was going, but I knew that for some reason I was in a rush. The wind was so harsh that the trunks of trees seemed to sway and move, propelled by sails made of thousands of dark leaves. In the distance I could see a warm glow, but it wasn't getting any closer. Perhaps I wasn't really sprinting, but my feet were just turning the earth.
It didn't feel like I was running towards anything – I was running away. Something silent was chasing me, keeping up with ease, watching, waiting. Its large, dark form crept in and out of the corner of my vision, never fully visible, waiting to strike.
One moment I was sprinting down a path, the next it was a dead end, blocked by a wall of trees so large I couldn't see where their tops. When I stopped, so did the creature. I moved again, zigzagging through the forest as branches swiped at the air around me. I looked up, and the light in the distance was no longer there.
Then I tripped, hanging in the air for a fleeting moment before I hurtled to the ground in a mess of dirt and leaves. I tried to scramble up but there was no point, it was advancing out of the shadows towards me, its eyes illuminated in the darkness.
I shut my eyes and saw images, of home and of old times, then of the last few days, and of Stanley. I relived his anger at me, then the next moment I was back in the hut, he was shirtless and his hair was damp. When I opened them again the creature was nearly upon me. It almost looked human.
"Kyle?" A call rang out through the woods. Suddenly the presence was gone, and my eyes drifted shut.
"Kyle!" I woke with a start. There was a girl standing over me, holding out a slender, pale arm.
"Everyone's looking for you." She said, helping me to my feet. She was the girl who I'd seen looking at Stanley while we ate last night, and up close she was mesmerizingly beautiful, with long dark hair down to her hips, and two braided strands at the front. Her face was gentle and pretty, like the illustrations of Greek goddesses in the texts I used to read. "I'm Gwendolyn." She said, smiling.
I was disorientated, and I nodded dumbly at her. The moon hung low in the sky, so it wasn't too long before sunrise, and I had been just lying out in the woods in my night-clothes. I watched Gwendolyn's mouth move as she spoke to me, her face looking concerned, but I wasn't of a mind to listen. I often had nightmares and sometimes wandered my house back home while I was asleep, but I had never done anything like this. I didn't really feel like I had just woken up, I just felt more alert, my mind less muddled.
"Sorry?" I asked, noticing Gwendolyn staring at me as if she was waiting for an answer of some kind.
"I said you're chilled to the bone. Let's go back, it's almost the morrow." I followed her through the trees, but I glanced over my shoulder every once in a while, to see if anything was following. I still had that heavy sensation of being watched.
My mother ran out to engulf me in a hug when we reached the edge of the village, and I could see her eyes were blurry and red from spilling tears. Messages were sent around to let everyone know I had been found, and people slowly started returning from the woods. The first creeping signs of dawn were already on the horizon, so there was little point returning to bed.
"You just left, I woke up and you were gone." She said, still holding me tightly.
"I don't know what happened, I must have walked in my sleep…" I muttered.
"You're stressed and nervous, your mind is probably running wild with everything that's happened. I was so worried bubbeleh." She said, using the old nickname she called me as a young child. I was surprised to see the group of boys I had been working with yesterday walking out from the trees, and even Stanley had been looking for me.
"Don't do it again, blockhead." Ike said, smiling at me wryly.
The boys were all sitting around the ashes of the fire, with Clyde trying to rouse it back to life. I decided to confront them now, and get my awkward apology to Stanley out of the way as well. I knew a week here would be bad enough without them all despising me any more than they already did.
"I'm really sorry I made you come and search for me like this." I said simply, sitting down next to Craig on the end of a log.
"What in hell were you doing?" Eric asked, staring at me. "Are you possessed or something?"
"No!" I replied quickly, "I get nightmares, and sometimes I walk in my sleep, but not normally out of the house…"
The fire sparked into life, and Clyde grinned triumphantly, throwing down the kindling he'd been using and sitting back down.
"Freak." I heard Eric mutter under his breath, but loud enough that he'd clearly wanted me to hear. "Roaming about the forest on a full moon like some demon. What kind of nightmare makes you do that?"
I realised after the pregnant pause that he was waiting for an answer. "I mean, uh, I felt like I was being chased, not by an animal but something…else."
"Eh!" Eric exclaimed, suddenly sitting upright and wide awake. "That's the Schrat! Told youse all they were real."
"What?" I asked, intrigued by how excited he'd become.
"Don't be stupid." Stanley interjected. "It's just some myth he talks about too oft for his own good."
"What do you know Stanley?" Eric asked, poking the taller boy in the chest. "I've seen one."
"Sure you have." Clyde said, tossing a stick onto the flames.
"Believe what you will. I've seen one, now this Jewish freak has too." People started crowding around the fire, preparing to cook breakfast or heat water, just as the sun emerged fully over the shadowy hills. It was apparent that this was as far as the conversation would go, and I wasn't going to hear Eric's theory on what exactly 'Schrats' were. I asked to speak to Stanley alone, and we walked away from the group.
"I'm sorry about what I said." I told him, trying to avoid having to look him in the eye for this awkward moment.
"Just remember," he said after a brief silence, "you're staying with us, but don't think you can change ought. We're alright just as we are."
"Of course, sorry."
"The rest of them already don't like you." He said bluntly, gesturing to the boys around the fire. "You don't want me not liking you too. Lucky for you I don't bear grudges." He gave a small smile, and patted my shoulder.
"Are we working on the defences today?" I asked, trying to prevent the uncomfortable silence I could sense bubbling up.
"The rest of those idiots are." He said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the group again. "My pa wants you to teach me how to read and write, he says it's useful. I don't see the point, honestly, but I don't get a say in these things."
"Oh, okay." I was glad not to be building again, and equally glad that I only had to teach Stanley and not the rest of the brutish group. Despite what he had said he seemed equally pleased not to have to do the back breaking work, and certainly didn't put up any resistance to the idea of learning literacy all day.
We took our time and ate breakfast, watching the rest of the village go about their routine very efficiently, everyone practiced at their jobs like well-rehearsed jesters and gymnasts at court. There seemed to be some discontent amongst the other boys that Stanley wasn't going to be helping with the work, and I seemed to be getting some poisonous glances from most of them.
Stanley suggested that we went down to a quiet spot in the grassy glade by the river to have some peace and quiet, and I watched him stuff a hunk of bread and some cheese into a satchel before leading me down away from the huts. I was tired from my lack of sleep, but not shaken up anymore, and I was far less apprehensive about doing a little bit of teaching than I was about trying to turn trees into a defensive barrier. Ike had mastered the basics of reading and writing by the age of about four, only a few months after my parents had adopted him from somewhere up in the snowy north of Frankia, so it couldn't be hard even for a pagan.
"Do you have any papyrus and quills?" I asked, once we were perched on the grass. We were a few feet from the water's edge, where it splashed into rocks, bouncing and sloshing its way towards the sea.
"No…" Stanley said, seeming a little amused at the idea he would own something like that.
"What about parchment, from animal skins?" He just shook his head at me. "Right." I muttered, wracking my brains for a way to teach this.
I recalled learning about Christians back in the olden days of the Roman Empire, where they would draw a fish in the sand to let the other know they were a Christian without being caught and crucified. I found a short, sturdy stick and patch of earth devoid of any grass, and that seemed like the best I could do.
"Are we starting from the beginning?" I asked.
"No, I can write a little. Well, I can write my mark." Stanley said, clearly quite proud of this.
I handed him the stick and pointed to the ground. He began to draw in the earth, his face etched with focus and determination as he guided the stick to form this 'mark'. I smiled upon seeing his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated.
"There." He said, looking back up. On the ground were four ill formed but legible letters: S T A N.
I nodded at him, grinning. "Stan?" I asked, amused.
"I never learnt the rest." He shrugged, handing me back the stick.
"I like it. Stan." I said. "I might call you that from now on." He just laughed.
I rubbed out his work with my foot, replacing it with the entire alphabet scratched into the dark, crumbly soil.
"So, Stan. These are all the letters."
For the rest of the morning I just tried to get him to recognise each shape, and what it meant. It was very foreign to me, teaching something that seemed so natural now. He seemed to have a confident grasp all the way down to 'R' by the time the sun was at its zenith, but after that he was less focused, and a little worn out, so I suggested a break for lunch.
"What are the Schrats that Eric was talking about?" I asked as he pulled the food from his satchel and divided it up.
"Don't worry about them." He replied. "It's just nonsense 'bout these people that are meant to live in the woods and hunt travellers who pass by, but Eric's the only clot who believes it."
"People?" I asked.
"Of sorts. Some say they were people once, but now they've become somethin'… other…" He replied, widening his eyes and speaking the words softly, like he was telling a scary story, then laughing when he finished.
I watched as he divided the bread and cheese, handing me an equal half, or perhaps even slightly more than he gave himself.
"Here," I said, tearing a piece off and giving it back to him. "I don't need this much. You're a lot bigger than I am, you need it more."
He looked at me with a bemused but smiling expression. "You're a strange one. I've ne'r met anyone quite the same as you."
"Is that a good thing?" I asked, trying to read his face for any sign of what he was thinking.
"I'm not so sure I know what I think yet." He said slowly, as if he was seeing if he could make up his mind in the time it took to say the words. "I'm not sure it's good for a simple man like me to spend time with the likes of you."
I was never really sure if he was still angry about what had happened during the eclipse ritual or not, but I tried to push it to the back of my mind. As the afternoon passed I carried on teaching him, enjoying whenever he found it difficult and I saw his brow furrow and his tongue appear just a little. All the while I kept thinking, there was nothing simple about him.