Meryl was as cursed as her son. The black cross on her lower belly did not alarm the athlete she was having an affair with.
"I can't have a child anymore." She whispered to the man's ear. "But I can still have fun." She added.
Her senses down there were amplified. Due to many times she had been stimulated by Stan, the lack of skill her current partner had made their exchanges more torrid.
Soon he was dead exhausted. Reggy almost fell asleep while she continued alone. Her satisfaction had no bound, except the disgusting face of her mate that managed to stop her after forty minutes of sport.
The man was exiled from the house after not being able to satisfy her. Yet the sole thoughts Reggy had were about how lucky he was to see Meryl naked. Never in his wildest dreams would've he thought to do it with her.
No resentment towards her, he vanished long before midday meal.
In the two boys' plate, some roasted leek stew with duck, a warming lunch for the two knife-throwers. Oswald noticed his friend's discomfort when they practised around the herd, because he wanted him to enjoy their sessions, he decided to teach him depending on the wind's direction.
From time to time, he stared at the four nice knives, he dissected the details engraved in it. The well-made handle already shown sign of weakness, scratches barely visible to the naked eye. They were carved out of bone, the material had been covered in a glue to improve its resistance and durability. Their blade was partially serrated, the many teeth at its base had no use for a knife thrower, only for a hunter.
Still, Oswald would make good use of them. Deep inside, he wanted to be alone and test how sharp they were, on his body. In fact he had no idea how far could his regeneration go, the sole issue to it was the excruciating pain he'd feel while testing it.
He wanted to know his limits, he knew he could go far thanks to his strength, but to get better at being careful he needed to know himself more.
After a serene afternoon, Tom managed to throw every of his knives without them bouncing back on the handle. The little twist he gave them while throwing gave him much more potency, the rotation of the blade made it much easier to sink in the wood.
Until now, Oswald threw his knifes to be able to justify the preys he caught. He dumbly threw them with a lot of power, focusing solely for them to reach their target. But when Tom asked questions such as. "For big targets, which part do you aim at first?" He couldn't answer properly.
He avoided answering until he had a suitable answer such as. "Well, the body or legs if the animal you're aiming at eats vegetation, the head if it's running after you."
Both boys had yet to confront danger. Even far from the herd's stench, Tom had an awkward attitude next to Oswald, he was concerned about how mysterious he was.
First the yellow eyes, then as if nothing happened, he went to Adelmo's shop to brag about his lasts hunts. Was he not afraid of getting caught in a trap?
An unanticipated event happened. Meryl came, dragging her feet in the snow, to invite both of them for dinner.
Once both stepped in the house the chimney's heat struck the guest. Finally a warm place!
While thoughts about Meryl's sanity wandered in his head, Tom never stopped acting pleased. He knew many business tricks, the woman in front of him had good craftsmanship, he would not bother having another card in his game.
She hummed a slow-paced song. Something that'd usually soothe a newborn's cry. She never stopped singing her little melody, it was a simple one, with a lot of repetitions, it became nearly hypnotic.
Sitting next to Tom, Oswald had no idea what she was doing. The cradle next to his mother's chair was empty. There was a doll with two acorns where the eyes had to be, little bit of paint and a thick wire sewn a little to high to draw a smile. The whole thing was packed in a handcrafted dress, with a blue-ish colour. Another of Meryl's great works.
The result was horrific.
Meryl's walk was strange. Her fat hips wiggled left and right with each of her steps, marking the rhythm of her medley.
Oswald's first time next to his 'little sister' shocked him, his eyes, brimming with a golden color were the most eye-catching detail in the living room. Both Tom and Meryl were mesmerized by it. Yet no worry stained the mother's face.
She thought. 'You're not ugly like this. But you're not my son either, I'm dining with strangers, I'm pretending everything.'
Oswald sent hand signs to his friend, pushing air downwards, he wanted to calm his friend's mind a little. 'She's overdoing it. Has she crossed sanity's line? I can't believe she's doing as if everything was normal!' He couldn't help but think about the abomination lying in the cradle a meter away.
Tom wasn't calm nor agitated. His obsession with Oswald's strange eyes grew in intensity with every of the fire's sparks. The light reflection on them was messed up to his logic.
Around the round table, multiple meaty plates were dispatched. The high quality of the meat and the many cheeses next to it, coupled with the bread were an admirable dinner for such a poor family.
"Are you not disoriented Tom? How's your mother doing?" Meryl asked. She wanted to make sure the teenager felt home, the question she asked him every time they met, concerning his mother, helped him not being disturbed.
"She's doing great, you'll see each other soon, she's impatient for spring to arrive." He said, shoving mountains of food into his mouth. He thought eating more would help him growing as big as Oswald.
Leaning to his right, he peeked at the inside of the cradle. His curiosity outweighed his hunger and what he saw made him choke.
"Oh my!" He exclaimed. "What a cute little sister you have!"