Liquid drained from Jostice's face as he wandered the barren wasteland. Boots kicking up dry soil. The smell of muggy decay in the air.
Red strands, olive skin, the smell of the prairie … Red strands, olive skin, the smell of the prairie … Red strands, olive skin, the smell of the prairie.
The voice spoke from the sky … his voice.
Jostice blinked—
Around him, golden stems protruded from the earth, tops spiked, guarding the kernel inside. A malty, fresh smell found his nostrils on his next breath. A slight wind yanked on his brimmed hat, tugging at his coattail, and waving it like a flag.
He glanced beyond the field to a cottage sitting on the horizon; the darkened wood beaten from many years of tough weather.
"Help me!" A voice projected from inside. He took a step forward, a lump rolling down his throat. "Help me, brother!"
Remmiron ... I'm coming!
He felt his muscles tug and his legs were off, moving towards the faint cries; his heart beat with each step, drumming to the rhythm of his boot.
"Help me!"
I'm coming ... don't you give up ... I'm coming —
Jostice blinked—
The world around him was swallowed in a cloak of darkness. Twenty paces away stood a figure in black, a dull light outlining his frame.
"You killed him!" The voice was familiar. "It was you! You killed my son!"
No! Jostice shook his head, pleading with hands. "Forgive me, father ... It was an accident … I didn't know."
"You knew!" The figure shimmered. "You betrayed him!" Light pulsing around its frame. "You. killed. my. Remmiron!"
"No!"
Jostice shot up while sheets slipped down his swollen chest. From head-to-toe, he was moist like he'd carried the sweat from the barren wasteland with him.
Lealie twisted at her hips, strands of hair draping down her shoulder. Her voice weary, "another nightmare?"
As vivid as the images were, they faded in Jostice's mind. He couldn't quite recall everything he'd seen: a shadowed figure, a cottage, a barren wasteland, and a golden wheat field.
"This one was something else." He rubbed his head. "These were memories."
Leslie rolled to face him, the blue glow from outside highlighting her olive skin. Normally her flesh would draw his eyes, and her scent would draw his nose, but on this night she saw his blank, fearful gaze. Lost in the visions that haunted him.
"Is there anything I can do—"
"Go back to sleep." He pecked her forehead with the passion of a vulture, then climbed to his feet, dressed, and headed outside.
There was a cool breeze coming from the north where Primepin mountains stood like a black bottom row of jagged teeth. The sky was a deep black, flecked with white specks, while the moon hung blue and half asleep.
The craving that festered his tongue was like a fungus eating the inside of his mouth. One smoke never hurt no one. He patted his pockets, slipping a hand inside until his digit slid against a smooth set of barbs.
He gently wrapped his fingers around the object and withdrew it into the night. A breeze whipped around his hand, working to yank the feather back into flight. He held tight, twirling it with his thumb and index. Even in the moonlight it still shimmered of gold.
Jostice sat there long after the rooster crowed and the dawn had come and gone, watching the feather glimmer with each spin.
He caught her scent before red strands popped out the doorway. A morning smile on her face, freckled cheeks rounded. "There you are," Leslie said gleefully. She leaned her hip against the doorway. "Have the horses been fed?"
"Shit … I've been distracted."
"I can see that." Leslie's smile folded into a frown. "What's bothering you?
He twirled the feather once more and it shined like a coin flipping in the air, gold and bright.
"It's nothin—"
"Tell me or you'll be sleeping in your own quarters tonight." He didn't have to face her to know she stood crossed armed, eyes sharp as arrowheads. "You going to talk or just sit there—"
"Beatrice," Jostice's tongue felt funny speaking her name.
Leslie had a problem finding her own tongue, and when she had her words fumbled out. "Is this some woman of your past?"
Jostice laughed senseless of her feelings. He noticed she was too quiet and changed his tone. "Beatrice was Remmiron's bird — a golden hawk."
"Golden hawks are just tall tales —"
"They're no such thing." Jostice lifted the feather, allowing her eyes to see it shimmer. "This is one feather, true as my words."
"You mean …"
"My father fought the Oganaki at Falls Canyon. And when up there he found a nest and brought back two eggs—" The memories had been lost in the back of his mind, but now flooded forward, like the damn holding them back had been broken. "One egg for him and one for Ma Jean — a boy and a girl who, together, had two eggs of their own — which were given to Remmiron and I. "If it dies you'll never hold another …" My father warned us, and sure enough, my Maki died shortly after he found his wings." He chuckled sorely. "Never been whipped so damn hard in my life."
"And what of Beatrice?"
Jostice shrugged curiously. "I have no idea … But she was full-grown, and as loyal to Remmiron as your brother is to you."
The words made tears surface and Leslie fought them back to wherever they came from. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Me too …" He stood up and placed the feather into his pocket. "I believe they were the last of their kind; like Boone and I are the last of the Riggers." He didn't know what brought the words out, but they felt true, sending a pain deep within his chest. "I best feed the horses."
Leslie wanted to help, but she knew he needed to face this one alone; or until he asked for her help.
"I'll fix breakfast."
The day was a blur. Jostice hardly could recall all of the mundane tasks he was doing; adding as many as he could to keep his mind busy: Fill the troughs with water and hay; stretch the horse's legs through the tree-heavy hillside; fix the axel on the wagon; and tear down the old cottage (to much of Rynan's disapproval and dismay).
By supper time, he was soaked in sweat and so dehydrated he began to fade at the table. Only able to keep his head because Leslie had him drinking slowly from her lap.
"You trying to kill yourself?"
He coughed as the water slipped down his throat. "My apologies … my mind been lost today —"
He blinked —
Around him was the golden, barbed stems that protruded from the earth. A breeze having them dance, waving for him to come towards the cottage that was nearly fifty paces away.
"Help me" Remmirons voice wailed. "Help me, brother!"
Jostice reached towards his gun belt, only finding the bare flesh of his hips. His body exposed to the sun; the smell of his flesh burning riled his nose.
I'm coming, Remmiron, I'm coming ...
He took a step forward; there was a pop like corn and the wheat spun from the soil, barbs extending from the stem. There was no gust, but it didn't stop the thousands of golden feathers that took flight into the sky, spinning around him violently. Their points causing abrasion to his bare flesh.
Jostice waved his arms to defend the feathered blades.
"Jostice no!" A voice wailed. "Jostice please, no!"
With a bit of rage, he swung his arm and caught a bladed feather into his hands, eyes glazed, staring upon the cottage.
I'm coming, Remmiron, I'm coming —
Suddenly he felt his body lift from the earth, shaking violently, limbs rattling like trees in a storm.
He blinked —
Darkness swallowed the room and a young, feminine voice carried to his ears.
"Rynan! Don't hurt him!" Leslie screamed near loud enough to shatter glass.
Jostice felt something slip from his fingers then heard it stick to the floor with a clank. He couldn't catch his breath, throat tight like he'd been noosed.
"He's trying to hurt you!" Rynan squeezed. "I won't let them hurt you anymore!"
Jostice eyes adjusted, finding the large boy's eyes black as obsidian. The smile that always marked his face replaced by bared teeth. His grip tightened. Jostice grabbed hold of his wrists.
Leslie screamed, "Rynan! Don't you do this … don't you become that boy again … you're stronger than this, and you're a man now, and true men don't give in to fear!"
The boy's eyes shifted towards her and a glint of light drew away the darkness in his eyes. His lip quivered.
Suddenly Jostice could breathe, then felt light, then hit the ground with a thud. Leslie ran to the man and dropped to her knees.
Rynan twirled a blue feather in hand, mumbling. "I didn't mean to hurt him … honest … I was just trying to protect you."
Leslie glared up at him, body trembling. She screamed, "you're such the burden of my life ... now go to your room!"
The boy drew tears then stomped off; his wails fading down the hall.