Chapter Five-Larkin

I've lived in these woods for my entire life.

I've played in the streams, climbed in just about every tree, and I know everyone's story and name by heart. 

    But the day people found out about my Delilah, I didn't recognize a damn person. Everyone who mattered to me was angry that I had hidden her from them for so long. My mother, my elders, and even some people I've traded with since I could hold a spear refused to trade with me because they thought I was a traitor. Everyone of importance to the people who lived in the town were thinking of ways to  use her. Use her like she was a donkey, not a person.

There was a group of people, about a hundred strong, a mile or so away from here.They were the ones who had run around telling everyone they had found a sleeping girl in a field looking for me. They have a cause, a stupid one, but they believe fiercely in it and I believe they would do anything, including hurting my Delilah, to make their cause become a reality. I know their leader also wants Delilah because there's a rumor going around that he has some intertwined fate with her, but I've always thought that was bullcocky. 

I had grown up surrounded by these people. We had helped each other out during winters when some people didn't have enough food and were on the verge of starving. We had taken in children when their parents died from disease. And now they were going to betray me like this. And even though I didn't believe in the same things as the aforementioned group, I didn't hate them. We had still helped each other and gotten along. Until now.

    I was angry at myself for allowing her to be discovered. I had gotten careless with my location, and that had led her straight to me.

    Now I would be lying if I said that didn't excite me a little. 

The prospect of hugging her, smelling her coal colored hair as it ran through my fingers, and kissing those plump lips of hers.

But none of that was worth her losing her freedom. 

    It was morning now, the morning after I had given Delilah even more directions in finding me. I almost had told her to run, to leave and never dream of me again, but I was so selfish and couldn't help myself. When she visited me while she was sleeping, she wasn't quite real. She sort of blurred at the edges, and I couldn't really feel her. It was like I was touching a tub full of bubbles. I wanted to smell her, and see how soft her pink cheeks were. 

    I lay there in my bed, where Delilah had appeared earlier. 

My fur suddenly felt too heavy and my skin felt clammy and too hot. 

I threw my blanket on the floor and sat up on the edge of the bed I had been sleeping in since I was a child.

    I felt my throat closing up at the thought of what I had done to Delilah. I had doomed her.

Delilah was one of the few existing dream hoppers.

Our people used to mingle with hundreds of them. They were still special and respected, but there were entire families of them. Whole blood lines mingled with us and ate with us, shopped among us, traded food and animals with us. But three hundred years ago, a famine hit our land.

    Cows were diseased, crops wouldn't grow, and thousands died.

Some think (and still do think) it was the work of said dream hoppers. I mostly think people thought this because they were jealous. Their population was growing, and all these people were so special and loved. Newer generations had more and more powers, some could even shift themselves into deer and fish and bears.

    Of course, people always freak out when anyone is even a little different from them. 

    Dream hoppers everywhere either left this dimension, or were slaughtered by their neighbors.

    That was hundreds of years ago. 

Some have returned, including my family. That's how I was able to first begin communicating with Delilah, though how I found her in the first place, is still a mystery to me and my elders. But I've been dreaming about her my entire life, since I was five years old when my power's first began to manifest.   

I remember the first time I visited one of her dreams. She had been dreaming that she was in school, and the classroom set on fire. Her classmates and teachers burned in front of her eyes, and she was so scared. I could feel her fear in me as I watched from outside the classroom door.

    Now I sat there on my bed, staring at my pillow, where her head had been laying a few hours ago. I wished she had really been there. I wish I could've felt her when I hugged her. I wish when I now grabbed my pillow, I could really smell her scent on it still. 

"Larkin!" My mother's shrill voice pierced through my thoughts, making me leap to my feet. I quickly pulled on a pair of pants and grabbed a shirt, and walked into the kitchen barefoot and shirtless. My mother was cooking breakfast, which looked like eggs and thin strips of cow. Her hair was plastered onto the back of her sweaty neck, and her freckled cheeks were pink and rosey.

"Your father had to go into town, so I need you to milk the cows and collect eggs, okay?" 

"Those are children jobs." I say, pulling my shirt on over my head.

"The children are doing laundry in the stream." She huffs, "They won't be back for another couple of hours, or knowing them until this evening. I need to get water to boil and the cows udders are going to explode if someone doesn't milk them soon." She laid a few pieces of meat and egg on a plate made from soft stone and handed it to me. "You can go be a man and a hunter when we have enough milk and eggs to trade for some wheat." She pinches her brows at me, and I sigh. 

"Whatever you say, Mother." I stuff my breakfast into my mouth, watching as she grabs the two buckets we use for carrying water. 

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Be good." She puts a bucket on each shoulder, kisses me on the cheek, and then leaves. 

I set my plate in the bucket we use for washing dishes, and grab my shoes that I left by the door. I don't like doing children's work, but I know if I don't we won't be able to get wheat, and then there will be no bread, and then we'll be hungry when winter comes.

    I step out the heavy front door into the cool morning air, and inhale deeply. It smells like lavender from the fields about a mile to the left, and honey from the beehives that live in the trees surrounding our little house. I think I might collect some today. 

Mother seems stressed, from the news of a new Dream Hopper or from Father staying out all night getting drunk and sleeping with whores, I'll never know. She's like me, closed up and quiet. One day she'll probably murder Father in his sleep from all the pent up anger she has. Whatever. All he does is sleep in our bed and eat our food anyways.

    I make my way to our barn, which is huge and new looking. We built it last spring, after a flurry of wolves killed three of our cows.

    Inside it smells like hay and poop, and sounded like uncomfortable cows. 

"I'm coming girls."  I sigh, and grab a bucket from beside the door. There are six stalls, each with a huge mooing animal in it.

I make my way down the line, getting a full three buckets of milk, which I'll put into glass jars and one of the children will take into town for trading. We would only keep a small amount for ourselves, which was fine with me because I didn't really like milk anyways.

    I set the buckets of milk down beside the door, grabbed a new bucket, stuffed some hay in the bottom for padding, and made my way to the other side of the barn, where there were nests built by the chickens laying everywhere. We had thirteen chickens, and got about twenty eggs a day from them year around. We would usually keep ten eggs for ourselves, and then once a week take the other seventy or so into town for trading.

    After I finished collecting eggs, I grabbed the buckets of milk, being careful not to spill any, and carried everything into the house. I kicked in the door for lack of hands, and set the buckets on the table. Later, someone would transfer the milk into glass jars. I was eager to go hunting and had no time for any more of this petty work.

    Then I went back to my room and grabbed my spear that was leaning against the wall. Now the real work would begin. 

This was my life. 

Collecting eggs and milk, feeding the animals and picking crops from the small garden we had, and hunting. 

Every day I pretty much did the same thing. When the children were too wild or Mother wasn't feeling well, I would do the women's work; laundry and collecting and boiling water and trading in town. It wasn't my favorite, but it had to be done nonetheless. 

    I preferred what I was doing now, crouching low behind trees and bushes, stalking a fat, happy deer that was prancing about munching on grass. 

    I would kill the deer, drag it home, and skin it. We would keep some of the meat for tonight, but the rest would be smoked and stored for winter, which was only a few months away. Last winter was a lot easier, because we had Father helping us prepare. But these past few months all he's done is spend our few remaining gold coins on cheap liquor and whores. I've prompted Mother to kick him out, but it's easier said than done.

    "You had a good day I see." Says my Mother as she comes home hours later with her bucks sloshing full of water. She groans and bends down to set them on the ground. I watch her stretch her old back, and can tell she's aging. She used to be so full of life, able to pick up the children and swing them around. Able to balance a bucket on her head and one on each shoulder. Now it looked like she was going to pass out from carrying just two buckets.

    On the kitchen table I'm skinning the deer I killed earlier. 

"I wish you wouldn't do that in here." She says, frowning at the blood dripping off the edge of the table onto the floor.

"One of the children moved the table that was out back." I say, shrugging. "And I need a table to skin my deer." She ignores me as she starts a fire inside the wood stove, and pulls out a stone pot to boil the water in. 

"I see you also didn't put the milk in bottles." She comments as she catches sight of the milk sitting by the door.

"Not my job." I reply simply, once again shrugging. She sighs quite heavily and casts me a look. 

"You need to grow up." I chuckle, causing her to shoot me daggers. "I'm serious. Soon your Father will be completely helpless in caring for us, and you'll need to step up to be the man of the house." 

I slam my knife I was using to skin the deer into his eye and hiss, "I already am caring for us. Who milks the cows almost every day when the children are off fucking the laundry up? Who kills at least two deer a week for our meat pantry? Who rides into town when we need wheat?" She avoids my eyes as she pours water into the now hot pot. "It's me, Mother. Get off my back." And with that I abandoned by deer, stomping out the front door and slamming it behind me.

Outside the day is coming to an end. I can hear small voices shrieking somewhere close by, and assume the children are finally coming home with our laundry. I assume half of the clothes will have fresh holes in them, and the other half will be soaking wet and covered in pond mud. 

    The thought of my clothes covered in mud pisses me off some more, and I go to retreat to the only place where I can be by myself,

My field.

    I tromp through the woods, twigs snapping under my heavy feet and birds flying away from my angry smell. 

    By the time I get to my field I'm fuming, thinking of my Mother's ungrateful attitude and my Father's lazy one. I was only nineteen, and already practically caring for a family of twenty. It wasn't fair, but it didn't matter. I was still expected to do it without hesitation. 

    I collapsed in the middle of the field, laying on my back to watch the sky turn from light blue, to pink and red, to black and speckled with stars.

    I couldn't help my mind as it wandered to thoughts of Delilah.

I craved her touch. 

I craved her company. 

I craved her. 

I remember when I first invited her here. I didn't know it'd be the beginning of something dangerous and wonderful. I didn't think she was a Dream Hopper; I didn't think she would find her way back to me. Truthfully, I don't even think she knew what she was doing. Which meant she was stronger than anyone knew. 

    But now she was close, she was coming here, just for me. 

I smiled at the thought of her being here with me. 

Of me running my fingers through her soft looking hair. Holding her in this very spot. Kissing her fingertips and knee caps. She could help me in the mornings, taking care of the animals and getting things ready for trading in town. One day we'd move away from my home, and build a new life for ourselves. We'd have a couple of cows, and she'd cook and bear my children while I hunted and took care of us. 

    I was practically beaming by the time I stood again. I was about to go home, when suddenly, a light appeared, far off in the woods to the west. 

It was pink tinted, and brighter than the sun in the sky. 

Larkin.

A whisper echoed in my mind, and forced my feet forward. And as I was running towards the light, I realized where I was running.

To the pond.