The Motherface

My Pa falls to musket fire during a clash with the other half of our family. Mama decided to bury him under the sycamore that gave shade to his favorite field. We all stood watch while my uncles’ dug the grave, not wanting to be ambushed.

Mama had pressed her hand against my Pa’s scar and took his ring off, looping it through a piece of leather to hang round her neck.

No one said anything. Prayers were meant to comfort the living, and the dead didn’t need protection, not anymore. Besides, I had a sneaking suspicion I knew where he’d gone, and it wasn’t as far as the townsfolk seemed to believe.

It didn’t rain that day, but the wind whipped through our valley so hard it sounded like it was doing all the wailing we couldn’t voice ourselves. I could tell it rattled Aunt Esther, but it comforted me.

Roland sat apart from me and ma, too busy trying to find the shape of his new role through the ache of losing pa. No one had expected him to become head of our family at nineteen years old.

He’s not ready, but he fills our Pa’s shoes like he was raised wearing them.

In some ways he was, following our Pa around as his assistant and message runner every day. Knowing his role in the family and earning his place at our Pa’s side.

I tried to take my place at his side too, but message running bent me double in only a few strides and I had no hope of keeping up with my cousins let alone my older brother, who had seven years on me.

We mourn our Pa in silence, having seen too many funerals to count growing up. The sky cries all the tears we can’t wear on our face in public, lashing out with strikes of thunder that startle even our battle-trained horses.

My brother keeps busy reviewing facts and maps he’s known for years, second guessing everything now that our Pa wasn’t around to correct him. He does it with such confidence that our cousins and uncles all assume it’s nothing more than keeping busy to stave off the grief, but me and Mama know better.

She comforts him in the rough way of our family, bringing him bread and drilling him on our landmarks and family history. It calms him; settles his resolve back into his boots.

It calms me too, knowing my brother is more level headed than anyone else his age, except maybe his best friend Sean.

The rain doesn’t stop. Nine days after our Pa falls my brother takes our uncles into the long shed set before the main house.

No one speaks of what he’s gone there to do but I know anyway, and find equal comfort and horror in it.

My Pa’s scar had been old by the time I learned what scars were, having served as head of our house for years before I was born.

My brother comes back with fresh clean bandages in the same spot, not a speck of dirt or blood on them. He smiles at me easily, like it’s a weight lifted off his shoulders with all the certainty that was missing from him before, now plain to see.

He stays up late most nights making big plans for the upcoming storm season, which seems to have begun early this year.

I stay up to tend the fire and listen to their murmurs in the next room.

Four nights my brother does this. Planning for a future he never gets to see.

Three days after he visits the long shed, our house catches fire.

I raise the alarm, having come down to help Mama start the morning bread to find our sheep dog Malley whining circles at the door, smoke wafting in like mist off a river.

I call for ma to raise the alarm, throwing the door open only for it to fan the angry wall of flames, already chewing on the wooden gate and beams of the house, licking the thatching set around the windows.

Ma heads to the stairs to start shouting to the others to get out and I grab a wooden ladle to bang against the metal soup pot to try and pierce the fog of my relatives that sleep liked to keep hold of.

The air was so thick with smoke by the time Roland found me and dragged me out of the house by my collar that I didn’t know who he was til we both collapsed in the ash flecked grass.

The exhaustion hits suddenly when I see most of my relatives accounted for. The rest of them are those with the energy to start a bucket line from the river to our hill house, trying to save what no amount of water would.

My brother drags himself up like he’s got bags of lead strapped to each limb and two to his torso and approaches them, a hand on my uncle’s arm and a shake of his head has them all dropping their buckets with numbed fingers and turning to watch the fire.

I’m not watching the fire, though I can feel it breathing down my back. My eyes are on the ridge to the east. Looking for something I hope on our land and ancestors I don’t find.

But I do.

A line of mounted riders watches from the tree line and I’d know them by the shape of their inaction; even if they didn’t have the blue ponchos of their family resting on each of their shoulders. The Boone’s had done this.

“Ro.” I call to my brother, my voice creaks from smoke inhalation but is steadier than I expect. Roland holds a hand up to stop our cousins panicked ramblings and steps up the slight hill to stand beside me.

“What is it Ren?” His voice is calm and I draw strength from it, despite the unfamiliar tone of his responsibility weighing it down.

I don’t say anything. I just meet his eyes and move my head back to the ridge, letting him follow my gaze.

I know he does when he starts cursin’ under his breath beside me. It doesn’t take him long to realize it’s not helpin’ much and start givin’ orders instead.

“Jaime, Conrad, get the horses, we’ve gotta move.”

But the call comes too late as musketfire cracks off the canyon walls like thunder.

“Move!” My brother yells at my cousins cowering forms sharply enough that they jump into action from instinct.

Roland points to our uncles and starts to make a plan. I only half hear it, too busy trying to breathe evenly so my heart doesn’t burrow under my lungs.

Mama beckons me over with an outstretched hand and I go despite my embarrassment. Too old to argue in such a dangerous situation but still ashamed I’m to be rounded up with the children.

Mama’s hand rubs circles on my wrist and I use it to focus on what’s happening as we cower behind our stone wall, still hot from the flames despite the rain.

“We can’t cross the river so close to flooding, but if we use the weapons in the barn and mount up, we can try to hold off the Boone’s while the rest of you head for the high caves.”

Uncle Gabriel steps forward with empty hands raised as if bearing proof that he doesn’t have his musket or hunting bow.

“They have too many Roland, and we don’t have time to grab ammunition.”

My brother shakes his head, sending raindrops flying. He looks more like a rain-soaked yearling than a band stallion but he’s steady enough to calm the others.

“We’re out of options. If that doesn’t work, we’ll head for the bluffs. If we can’t lose them in the forest we’ll corner them there.”

Conrad jogs out of the barn leading three horses but that’s not enough to distract Uncle Gabriel. I can tell that our youngest uncle isn’t done complaining, but before he can start up again, Uncle Gideon takes his brother’s reins from his son and walks over leading their horses behind him. He thrusts Gabriel’s reins into his hands, pointing a sharp thumb at the musket in its saddle holster.

“Theres no time to discuss this. Let’s just raise hell anyway shall we?”

And his younger brother’s stubborn look melts away, replaced by weary resolve. He takes his reins and mounts his paint mare Meadow before looking Gideon in the eyes as he settles on the back of his bay gelding Ridge.

“They brought hell brother, we’re just giving it back.”

Conrad nudges his horse Flint closer to his father but keeps both eyes ahead, keeping watch over our enemies slowly drawing closer, stopping every few hundred yards to cover themselves in case we start firing back.

Gideon looks over at his son and wheels Ridge over when he catches sight of Jaime pulling his colt out of the stables beside Roland’s with his makeshift blanket saddle cinched tight across the little gelding’s withers.

His nephew’s longbow slung over his shoulders nearly trips him as the quiver catches on the green colt’s hock.

Ridge prances in place as Gideon guides him sideways with his knees till they’re blocking Jaime’s path. He leans down and grabs the top of Jaime’s longbow where it’s peeking over his shoulder and pulls him in gently.

“Not this time Jaime. You need to lead your aunt up across the highland field, they’ll need a scout ahead and behind to watch for mudslides and Boone’s. Don’t let your father or I catch you trailing us neither, we gave you a job and we’re counting on you to get done.”

Jaime’s face churns through about nineteen different emotions as our uncle speaks but in the end he doesn’t argue.

He has the same look of resolve as his father, just less weary when he tugs his horse towards the stone wall and helps our youngest relatives onto his back.

Davy scoots his chubby legs up until there’s enough room for Bernard and Silvie, fingers playing over the edge of the blanket as he looks down at Jaime and Aunt Esther as if wondering why we weren’t moving yet. When more musket fire echos off the cannon walls Jaime moves his colt ahead until he’s sheltered by the barn, but stands to wait for his aunts to follow.

I hear the buzz of a projectile as it smashes into the old tree built into the stone wall we were all hiding behind. I start to question the same thing but I say nothing.

Jamie’s colt picks up on his unease and whickers quietly, bobbing his head until Jaime turns to run a hand down his face to calm him.

I wait, crouched beside my mother and aunt as they quickly count heads and tug us into the order they want.

Only when they’ve arranged our makeshift band into order does Aunt Martha wave us ahead, with Adelaide in the lead until she too is behind the barn.

She runs a gentle hand over Jamie’s horse as she speaks softly to the three on his back, telling them we’re going on an adventure and not to be afraid. The colt pulls his head eyes with eyes rolling and whickers again and Aunt Martha hisses in displeasure.

“Jaime keep that colt quiet ya hear?” And Jaime tugs the lead rope until he can reach the nose band, soothing him with firm hands and hushing noises before answering.

“I’ll do my best Ma’m, but Rabbit always talks.”

We all gather behind the barn and arrange ourselves in the way Mama and Aunt Martha want us. It’s only because I’m still beside Aunt Martha that I hear her mutter a reply.

“Then you named him after the wrong creature boy.”

But her tone was more worried than annoyed.

I pause to watch my brother mount his chestnut mare Sparrow while Uncle Gideon and Gabriel return fire to cover him before they urge their horses forward, towards danger.

My eyes stay latched on my brother until Mama tugs me forward into the dark. I squeeze my eyes tight and call on our ancestors to protect him and bring him back to me, believing their protection a little less with every creature that falls to a pointless blood feud.

We walk briskly. Jaime was supposed to set the pace, but it’s Rabbit’s nervous energy pulling him along. I’m pulled by mama to make sure I don’t fall behind despite the pace being faster than I usually dare to go. My heartbeat is closer to my throat than my chest and I struggle, trying to find a rhythm to breathing.

I’m scared, but not for myself. Even the heartbeat in my ears can’t drown out the shouts and musket fire echoing off the canyon walls. The gunfire worries me, but the silence is worse, bringing images of my fallen family members unbidden to my head.

We’re just outside approaching the last stretch of open field when Rabbit screams, kicking out his right leg as if to fend something off but finding only air.

He paces sideways, eyes rolling white in the low light to look for the threat but I’m not watching him anymore. I’ve turned to the sound of Aunt Martha’s kitchen musket as she fires at two figures on a tall grey carriage horse.

I know she’ll miss. Not because she’s a bad shot, but because the second rider is definitely a kid.

“Go Angela!”

She calls to mama as she lines up another shot. Mama’s reply is drowned out by the sound of musket fire but her hand motion is enough to get the message.

Keep going. Don’t stop.

Jaime is already across the field a few hundred yards ahead of us so when he gets the message he stops trying to hold Rabbit in check and lets the colt spring ahead, nearly dragging him off his feet as he disappears into the tree line.

Adalaide and Natalie are just ahead of me when Mama falls with a crack, the air escaping her lungs with an unnatural whoosh that scares me more than the musket fire. I fall with her, trying to turn her over with trembling hands that lack the strength.

“Angela!” Aunt Martha calls, but she can’t help us right now, she’s the only thing keeping that horse from running us all down.

“Mama! Where are you hurt?” I ask, straining my eyes but finding no sign of blood across her back.

When she doesn’t answer I turn her head towards me only to find a dazed look on her face and blood running down her forehead from her hairline.

I choke on air that desperately wants to be a sob as mama’s breath turns to an aching sound stuck somewhere between a creak and a moan.

“Run, Warren.” But I shake my head even as she pushes me away.

A sob finally escapes when I realize how little strength she had left, that she couldn’t even push me away.

“Run!” She moans, swallowing roughly as her eyes finally focus on my face. She raises her hand to my face even as I cradle hers, feeling the dip in her skull that shouldn’t be there, I stop trying to hold in my tears.

“Be safe. Love you- both, always.”

I pull away and raise my lead-limbed hand to rest on hers as it cradles my face. She smiles when I squeeze it tight. She knows it means I’ll do what she asks.

She lets her hands drop with a rough sigh as I rise. I don’t look back as I run for the treeline I can’t see, the darkness of the field and forest blending into a slurry of blacks and greens, but I run anyway. Faster than I’ve ever dared.

I nearly run straight past Natalie but she grabs my arm and yanks me to cover behind a tree, ducking around to look behind us before yanking me into a jog with nothing but a determined “come on, this way!” as explanation.

She drops my hand when she’s sure I’m following, and I don’t argue. I don’t have the lung capacity to ask questions let alone debate the direction we were going.

We trudge on in silence for a few minutes until Natalie looks back to see my eyes on the ground.

“What are you doing, why aren’t you looking?”

I raise my heavy head and try to press the feeling of a fractured skull out of my finger tips.

“For what?” I ask softly, rubbing circles in my own hand to try and pace my breathing but that hurts me too, reminding me of Mama.

I must look lost because Natalie’s expression softens from anger to annoyance and I get an answer instead of a reprimand.

“Silvie fell off Rabbit. We need to find her cause she doesn’t know the way to the caves. Ada went to help Jamie. We need to find Silvie. Got it?”

I don’t bother to answer, I just nod and press my hands to my heart.

We twist our way through the small grove of tall trees and out the other side before we find Silvie. She’s jumping to reach a branch when Natalie spots her. She takes off and I trail after her.

“Silvie! It’s not a good idea to be out in the open like this, What were you even doing?”

Silvie drops her hands to her sides and shrugs, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“I couldn’t see the way to the caves, so I thought I’d get a better view.”

Natalie looks at the thin twisted tree then towards the canyon wall before answering, knowing her idea wouldn’t have worked and trying not to upset Silvie.

“Theres not enough light for you to see that far anyway silly. We should get back to the tree line.”

Natalie doesn’t quite manage to cover her scepticism and Silvie’s guard goes up, yanking her hand away from Natalie’s reach in bruised defense.

She turns her shoulder to our cousin and mutters, “If I couldn’t find the caves on my own I was going to go to the gates instead. The dogs would protect me, and I know how to get there.”

Even through the nightmarish fog clouding my head I can tell Natalie has reached the end of her patience with our cousin and her fear is starting to get to her.

I sniff in a sharp inhale to try to turn my focus back. Even though it feels like trying to unstick a burlap sack from tar, I manage, forcing myself to focus on Silvie.

“That was a good plan Silvie, the dogs would’ve protected you. But now that we know the way, we should stick to the plan that Mama and Aunt Martha made. Okay?”

I can see Silvie’s stubbornness crumple a little, but her guard goes back up and she pulls away when Natalie reaches for her hand again.

“Make Natalie say she’s sorry.”

I’m about to tell her we don’t have time but Natalie beats me to it, immediately trying to appease our younger cousin.

“Silvie I’m sorry okay? But we don’t have time for this right now-“

I cut Natalie off with a sharp hiss of air and snatch both their hands, pulling them to the base of the tree and around to the other side.

There’s a horse and rider coming down the hill path between us and the way to the caves and I pull them both lower to the ground when I see which Boone it is.

The horse is a fine boned thing, too delicate to be carrying a rider as merciless as Jack. No one would tell Jack though, nobody ever told him what to do. I close my eyes and hope it’ll be someone, anyone else when I open them but it’s still him. Of course, it was just my luck that he was the one to find us. Jack was about two years younger than my brother and about twelve times crueler, the only Boone I was absolutely certain wasn’t involved in the feud because of a twisted sense of justice.

He snaps the reins and his horse sidesteps towards us. He scans the grasses and trees and as he gets closer, I decide that the second he looks away we’ll have to bolt. I tilt my head towards Natalie and when our eyes meet, I know she’s thinking the exact same thing. I drag my eyes to the closest pine tree then back to her so we both go the same way and she nods.

We each grab one of Silvie’s hands and she swallows thickly, also ready to bolt. Jack horse tosses its head as its foreleg comes down in an old rabbit hole and he jerks the creature’s head until it walks in a tight circle.

We rise and bolt as one, hands held tight in desperation until we slide to a stop under the pine’s low hanging branches, our palms and elbows pierced by the sharp, dry needles sheltered from the rain.

My eyes scan automatically for the thin boned horse and its awful rider but I see neither. Not until it’s too late.

Jack drags Silvie out and Natalie lunges to grab her hands, which we’d both been holding only seconds ago. She catches and holds on to Silvie’s ankle, but Jack simply drags them both out from under our poor protection.

I climb up onto one of the low hanging branches and beg luck to let me pass unseen when he ducks below to find me. I hope my cousins understand my stillness. I’m not big enough to fight Jack and I can’t help Silvie or Natalie if I get caught too.

I hear whimpering cut off by a slap as Jack mutters sharp commands at the girls to be still. I know he’s tying their hands to drag back to the other Boone’s and out of my reach, and I’m busy wracking my brain on how i can get them loose when another unfamiliar voice calls out for Jack.

Jack hisses angrily but calls back.

“Here, Paul!”

Well what took you so long to answer? Thought you’d been had by that crazy Hyll lady with the musket when you went missing.”

A heavier horse jogs closer and the sound of a saddle creaks as they come to a stop.

Jack doesn’t bother to raise his voice when he answers his older brother this time.

“They’d never manage to down me, even if I had been hit. I ain’t going without taking them all down with me. You know that.”

I know you’re crazy enough to make that true even if it does disregard logic.”

The saddle creaks again as his horse sidesteps.

“Now, what’s all this then?”

I close my eyes in despair knowing he’s spotted my cousins and there’s nothing I can do now. If it was just Jack, I could do something to distract him while the girls esponchod but now that there’s two Boone’s that slim chance is gone.

“Nothing much,” Jack replies, his voice guarded.

“Found myself a few Hyll rats is all.”

The sharp irritation in Paul’s reply catches me off guard and I nearly fall from my branch in surprise.

“Those aren’t even Hyll rats yet Jack, they’re barely even mice. Let’em go and let’s get back to the group, we’re hunting their pipsqueak leader, not schoolgirls.”

Heavy hoofbeats tell me that Paul has taken his own advice and headed back up the hill.

“Oh fuck off Paul,” Jack says, but there’s no hatred to it as he calls after his brother.

“You aren’t the head of house yet!”

I set my feet softly back on the ground and duck low to see if I can spot my cousins through the thick grasses and needle cover only to get the life scared out of me by a pair of expensive leather boots, only a foot away from my face and stepping closer.

“Already bossin’ me around as if our father has gone and died. Does he think none of our uncles will fight’em for it? Well… he can’t say I didn’t listen if I leave the last little rat to crisp all on his own can he?”

There’s a sharp scraping sound I don’t have time to identify before a match falls just in front of me, catching the dry pine needles on fire like a dragon had blown on it.

I scramble away but he must’ve thrown another match on the other side of the tree, because it’s already burning when I scramble away from the first patch of flames. I don’t think as I duck through the flames. It takes my breath away as hot sap drips down singeing my shirt and arms.

I burst free ready to be grabbed by Jack or Natalie but no one’s there to greet me. I scan my surroundings for clues, unsure if my cousins got free or if Jack took them. In the milky morning light I manage to find bare footprints and several horse tracks with shoes. Thanking luck that they go off in two different directions.

Seeing the footprints of Natalie and Silvie, I take a few deep breaths then force myself to jog after them, wanting to catch up. I carry myself bent low to the ground as I go, forcing my mind to stay on task dodging thicker brush and ditches and breathing evenly. I can still hear the calls of the Boones, spread out into a line as they cover ground. They’re getting close enough to hear the heavy breathing of their excited mounts.

I add the sounds into the background of my pattern and try to ignore the panic of its proximity, counting out when to inhale like I’m trying to lull myself to sleep. I force myself to pause and slow down when I finally acknowledge I can’t breathe. I’d been speeding up the count the closer I got to the tree line. I press heavy hands to my chest and get up before I’m ready, setting determinedly back to my count.

The mindlessness of it usually soothes my heart back to a pace I can handle, but not this time. It drums hard and fast against my ribs like a wild dog clawing at its cage. I stick to the count despite it. I have nothing else to rely on and no other way out of this.

I lose my count to sheer terror when the thicket reaches out and yanks me into it. I stare wide eyed at my brother as his tacky, shaking hand covers my mouth. I can’t see him well in the cover of the thicket, but I can smell the iron on his hand and I know he or one of the others has been injured somehow.

I don’t dare to move but I run frantic eyes over him wishing I could see more than shapes. I would be begging for the sun to rise already so I can assess his wounds, but I know the fading darkness is also keeping us safe.

He lowers his hand slowly and smiles softly at me. I search his face for pain but don’t find any trace of it there. Roland’s smile fades when he catches on to my erratic breathing and he takes exaggerated quiet breaths for me to follow. I try, only for the air to catch in my throat and I slap both hands across my mouth to muffle the sound of my coughing.

Roland rubs a rough hand into my back and turns his head in the Boones’ direction worried they might’ve heard. We both know it’s not safe here. Not really safe anywhere, but especially not for us two.

He scoots closer and pulls me in, whispering quietly but calmly.

“We’re going to head for the forest of gates alright? The dogs will spook the horses and give us more time to skirt the sculptures and get to the caves.”

I nod and swallow my questions back roughly. There’s no time to wonder what happened to Conrad and our uncles, but I’m horrified by the images flashing behind my eyes, helped along by the fact that Roland was alone and without his horse.

We keep low to the ground down the center of the clearing, moving from thicket to thicket for cover. I can see the beginning of the forest of gates. The nine foot high logs woven around posts and still living trees, all carved with the history and knowledge of our family. Its shadows are almost menacing in the fog and mist of early morning but to me, it looks more like safety than anything else I’d seen since I’d woken up this morning.

We leave the clearing in a mad, silent dash, hoping the Boones trailing behind us won’t notice, but I’d run out of luck before I’d even found Roland. Left it somewhere under a pine tree that was probably still burning.

The shout goes up behind us as we weave past trees, my brother dragging me forward as if he knows instinctively where each branch is, somehow still having the lung capacity to whistle for the field dogs. They come running in a roiling mass of shadows to greet us as we burst from the tree line, all thirteen of the massive hounds milling around us like excited pups until Roland whistles one quiet sharp note. The dogs snap to attention with sudden tension thrumming through them as if they’re one creature.

“On watch.” My brother says, and the dogs all spread out with heads held high searching the air for danger.

Lion stays close to Roland but his eyes are scanning the forest as if he’d bite a tree branch if it fell in our direction. The biggest and oldest of the field dogs, Lion had grown up with Roland and had chosen him as his human before Roland ever became head of the family. No dog had chosen me, but all thirteen were friendly enough.

I knew any of them would tear anything apart if my brother gave the command, but he didn’t tell them to seek. He simply left them on alert and pulled me to crouch beside him in the shadow of one of the first gates.

Roland turns me to face him with firm hands on my shoulders and I bite back questions bubbling to the surface and focus on telling my brother the one thing that matters right now.

“Ro, they-“

But Roland shakes his head and stops me, his eyes holding information just as urgent, I drown my sorrow and let my brother speak first.

“Listen Ren. They’ve taken our uncles hostage but they left Conrad behind. He was unconscious last I saw him but I don’t think he’s dead. The horses have been hamstringed and Sparrow is dead so -.”

Our heads snap to the tree line when the dogs start baying at something. Lion’s deep rumble settles a bit as Roland soothes his fur, and we turn back to the conversation knowing we’re running out of time.

“The dogs won’t be able to hold them off for long and help isn’t coming. They knew our horses’ verbal commands, do you understand? Someone ratted on us.”

Roland looks me dead in the eyes to see if I understand the weight of what he’s telling me but my mind is already reeling, who could’ve possibly done that knowing what the Boones were willing to do to us to get what they want?

I don’t want to think about it but my mind flicks through every familiar face looking for someone to blame. My mother was dead and someone I trusted played a hand in it.

The dogs start baying again, this time their calls are joined by shouts coming from the tree line and Roland rises to look. Lion stands too, growling low but I tug on Roland’s hand to stop him. He glances back at me in question and I nearly choke on the words I need to tell him. I force the words out and ignore the shake in them, at least it wasn’t the sob building up in my gut.

“Ro, they killed Mama.”

Roland’s face collapses and he turns back to pull me into a bone crushing hug. We don’t say anything else. There are no words that can cover such a loss, but we take a minute of time we can’t spare to shoulder our grief together before Lion bounds forward and Roland pulls back.

A horse crashes into the other side of the gate we’re crouched by and Lion turns back at the sound, charging the horse and rider on the other side. My brother pushes me towards the next gate over and hisses at me to go before unsheathing his belt knife.

I remain frozen in place, terrified that if I look away from my brother for more than a second, I’ll lose him too.

The dogs snarl at our intruders, snapping at the heels of their steeds that prance and kick at them while their riders wave torches against the waning night, urging them forward into the forest of gates and fangs.

Roland darts past the end of the gate and helps Lion pull Edmund Boone from his painted palfrey, leaving him for Pebble to hold hostage while the other hounds try similar tricks, some leaping at the riders and others nipping at their mounts.

Root and Tracks leap as one and Ballard Boone goes down with his heavy black draft horse. Basil cries out as his father disappears beneath the beast and the gate’s pole twists away, unable to take the weight of the horse, made worse by the beast’s struggle to stand.

Roland darts forward with a stern voice to ward off the hounds and both flee to find other targets. Roland pulls on the draft’s neck and reins until he gets his feet under him, then heaves himself up.

My brother offers Ballard a hand and for a moment I can feel the possibility of change between them, every molecule of me begging please strongly enough that I think reality might allow it, but it doesn’t.

Roderick Boone rides past and slams the butt of his gun against my brother’s temple and he flies into the end of the failing gate. Jack turns in his saddle to line up a shot with his bow and lets the warhead thunk into the wood.

I scream Roland’s name before I can stop myself, but it’s not enough to ward off what’s happening. The wood beneath the arrow creaks and the failing gate finally gives way, the ends of the neatly stacked trees crashing down on top of my brother. He’s pushed flat on his back, the soft earth having molded around him.

I slide into the rough tree as I get to him, snapping commands at the field dogs to guard, and to hold them back.

The rough hewn branches that were never filed out of the gate are piercing him. and even if the logs weren’t too heavy for me alone to move, I would never free him without risking the chance of him bleeding out. I keen as the dam within me fails and the sob I’d tried so hard to contain bursts forth.

He smiles softly at me like he knows I can’t free him, and every other panicked thought racing through my head and heart. I sob again, reaching for his hand as I realize it’s probably true. My brother could always read me, and I him.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow Ro, not yet.” I beg him, both of us knowing it’s not his choice or decision to make.

“Ren.” He says softly, and I see the tension start to leave his shoulders. My desperation to stave off reality doubles. This can’t be happening. But it is, and my brother frowns as the riders circle closer.

“Back! Back!” I scream, my throat raw from smoke and sobs. The dogs snap with renewed vigor as they smell the air thick with blood. “You can’t have him!”

I scream, bending my body over to cover my brother even though I know it’s not him they want anymore. Anyone who’s lived out this far in the country has seen death in one form or another and knows what it looks like. Nobody’s after a dying boy, not when his inheritance has fallen to the pipsqueak sheltering him.

Roland tugs at my sleeve as I glare at all the circling vultures on horseback, I bend myself over further until I can hear what he wants to say. He pulls me closer with another tug on my sleeve and I turn my head to listen.

“You have to get to the caves and warn the others they aren’t safe there. Take everyone into the long shed. The things- the things in there will give you the answers, okay?”

I’m nodding before I register where he’s told me to go. The long shed. The place he’d left his heart, a place only the heir and his right hand were supposed to go. I’m nodding with my jaw clenched tight before I even realized I’d made up my mind.

“Okay Ro, I will. I promise.”

I say, but my brother is already gone.

I call each of the field dogs with a voice shaking in rage and loss and each dog returns to me, creating a semicircle around Roland and I.

Lion pushes past the others and steps close, nudging the hand of his chosen person. I ruffle his hackles as I’d seen Roland do a hundred times and stand. Pressing my forehead to the top of his, I whisper.

“Guard him until I return okay? Keep him safe for me.”

Then I turn and bolt into the forest of gates.

I don’t look back as I run faster than is safe, I don’t look even when some of the dogs yelp. My shoulder crashes into some of the gates, running too fast to keep my balance. I make it to the edge of the forest of gates and into the actual forest, reaching from tree trunk to tree trunk until I’ve found my center of balance again. I fall too many times to count, occasionally crawling forward until I find the strength to rise.

I know the Boones will find me eventually. The dogs can’t delay every rider and one is all it’ll take to send me off with Roland and Mama. But I still have family left to protect, and I promised Roland I would get them to the long shed.

I don’t follow the path to the high caves, the wide flat rocks that are big and stable enough that a horse could use them. Instead, I scramble up crumbling rockslides and cling to anything I can to make it up another inch, another foot closer to everything I have left. I pass the line of lightening shadows and into the unfiltered morning light, nearly sobbing again as I realize my palms are a dried red, tacky in some places and already chipping off in others. I inhale sharply and look up to stop the tears when I realize I don’t know if it’s Mama’s or Roland’s blood.

The small entrance is only about half a furlong up the rock face and visible from the forest floor below, but the Boone’s will have to ditch their horses and lose time climbing it when they spot me.

I’m only an arms length away from the side entrance when an arrow shrieks off the rock face beside me, chipping pieces of loose shale free to crumble to the rockslide below.

I turn my head to see if I need to dodge another arrow only to see Arthur fling his reins at Jack and dismount his horse. Starting up the loose shale, it’s clear that he’s planning to get me down, or follow me in.

I’m the last of my fathers children. I’m not officially head of the house until we bury Mama and Roland, but I’m all there is right now and the only one who knows someone sold us out. I refuse to be pulled down like some incapable child stuck in a tree.

I use that as fuel to throw myself upward. Catching the lip of the ledge, I scrabble until I find a grip with my other hand and pull myself up until my ribs catch on the edge and hold me while I readjust my hands and throw my knee up over the lip.

I stay crouched -not wanting to be hit by arrow or musket fire- and duck inside. The cave walls are sharp and twisted near the top. I used to escape the bonfire smoke down this tunnel for a breath of fresh air. Coming up here in the early mornings to watch the sunrise as it started peeking over the mountains on the other side of our valley.

Every piece of this place is home, but it feels colder now. I try not to think about it and dash a quick running tear from my eye in annoyance and grief. I can’t afford to be weak right now. The tunnel slopes down, then drops off sharp into a y-shaped fork. Two thicker, smoother tunnels leading opposite ways. One back to the main cave and the other deeper in, to storage and sleeping spots. The sound of Arthur’s efforts filters down the tunnel and I know he’ll catch me soon if I don’t move, but I can’t lead him to the others. I press my tacky handprint against the wall leading to the deeper entrance.

I can lose him in these tunnels if I keep just ahead of him and duck into one of the tunnels hidden by rock formations. He has to give up soon now that the sun has risen. The Boone’s always retreat in the daylight, that’s when the town’s lawman gets brave enough to hear the musket fire.

He catches up quicker than I expect and I’m left stumbling ahead still trying to catch my breath. Never left with enough time around blind corners to disappear, I double back on myself creating loops and circles, never safe enough to get to the others. Eventually though, I manage to lose him by ducking into the shadow of a boulder, huddled down in a dip in the floor, and he passes me quickly.

I rest my heavy head on my knees for a moment to try and catch my breath knowing I don’t have time. I slip back the way I came and into a hidden tunnel, coming out just before the bend into the main cave. The others are all there except Rabbit, who would’ve been left hobbled in a small alcove just inside the first tunnel entrance.

I freeze before I take another step though, because they’re not alone. Adam and Roderick Boone stand before my family with an easy confidence. Jaime stands between them and the others shaking, but I’m not sure if it’s from fear or rage.

I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out why they aren’t forcing them out of the cave when I spot Aunt Martha off to the side. She holds her musket level between the two with an indifferent expression, as if asking them if they really want to die today over a few kids and their mother.

Roderick looks like he’s ready to back down, but there’s a hard glint to Adam’s eye that scares me.

“How could you?” Jaime says, the shake in his voice is all rage.

He’s not looking at Roderick or Adam though, he’s glaring behind Adam. I scoot myself out a little further to see who he’s addressing, but I don’t need to. I recognize my best friend’s oversized tattered brown coat.

His mom had gotten it for him three winters ago, bought used and battered but with no holes, she’d sewn patches into it anyway so his father wouldn’t trade it in for cash to spend at the bar.

I hear Henry sniff like he’s getting ready to answer Jamie but he’s interrupted by Adam’s firm hand slapping onto his shoulder. The gesture pushes him into Adam’s side as he answers for him.

“Awww now, don’t hold it against him boy. He’s just trying to fit in to his new family, aren’t ya son?”

I close my eyes slowly, tired of all the running. The danger, grief, and pain. We found our rat and it turns out he’s just another victim in this.

I move before I think, stepping out into the center of the tunnel. I don’t bother to cover up my weariness. Not the blood on my hands or the dirt on my clothes.

“Leave’em be. You’re after me anyway aren’t you?”

Roderick snaps to attention and the only thing stopping him from stepping forward and grabbing me is Aunt Martha, who tilts her musket just the slightest fraction.

Don’t Aunty,” I sigh, tired of the fighting. I don’t want anyone else to die today.

“let him come.”

Adam raises his hand to stop Roderick as he walks forward slowly.

“Stay here and watch the others Rod. I’ll get the boy.”

Aunt Martha’s hand twitches towards the trigger but she doesn’t touch it. I back up slowly into the tunnel as Adam Boone approaches me, not wanting to get caught but finding no other way to give Aunt Martha a chance. Roderick wasn’t a very brave man without his older brothers backing him.

When he reaches the uneven rock at the beginning of the tunnel, I turn and run. He curses and starts after me but I know exactly where I’m going, and he’s never been here.

I can’t run for long so it’s a good thing I have a plan, even if it is likely to fail. My limbs feel like someone poured lead where my bones should be and now my veins are filling with it too. Still, I race on.

It’s a relatively straight shot to the cave I’m heading for. There are no side paths off to get lost so, though the tunnel rises and falls with slight twists to the path I go as fast as I can, disregarding my safety.

Adam is far stronger than I and I can’t risk him catching me before we get there. Finally in the last few strides I throw myself sideways down a small drop that leads into the room early.

I dive for the massive pile of ash from every ceremony next to the seven foot deep bonfire hole. Burrowing myself into it next to the rocks jutting out from the cave wall, I close my eyes and will myself not to breathe and disturb the ash.

Adam rushes into the room like a storm. I hear him kicking ash around in his search for me, breathing heavy as he gets increasingly angry.

Roderick, Henry, Get in here! And bring the woman!”

His voice rings through the tunnel and a few minutes later Roderick, and one or two others step down into the fire room.

“Why’d you bring her?” Adam asks, his annoyance building. “I told you to just bring the woman.”

I can hear the whine in Roderick’s voice as he tries to appease his older brother.

“I thought you said bring the women, so I did.”

There’s a muffled sound of contact before Adam replies.

“Woman you dolt! Oh it doesn’t matter. You two! Kick some of that ash into the pit, I want it filled up. If your little brat is in there like I think he is, he’ll suffocate soon enough.”

The two try to refuse and I hear Adalaide cry out as she stumbles forward, probably pushed from behind by Roderick trying to get back into his older brother’s good graces.

“Well? Get to it!” He shouts.

Adalaide must hesitate because Aunt Martha says “come on now Ada.”

There’s a brief sound of shuffling before Adalaide replies.

“But Mama, it’ll kill him.”

“Hush now my girl, I know. But these fine gentlemen aren’t giving us a choice now are they? just do as we’re told.”

They cry as they do it but they do it, and it goes quiet except for the scraping of shoes and people sniffling.

I open one of my eyes just a crack to watch as Adam Boone declares the pit filled. He turns around and beckons Henry over to him. He approaches reluctantly, shrinking himself down small just like he did for his first father.

Adam snaps his fingers at Roderick until he steps forward and hands him a small blue poncho in the same design as theirs. Adam flicks it out over Henry and pins it together.

“There. You’re one of us now Henry, you played a big part in this hit for Hyll rats today. Now let’s go home before your mother starts to worry about us eh?”

It hurts despite knowing it’s not his fault. My chest still feels like it’s been inverted. My heart squeezes hard around nothing but air. Air in my heart and thick blood in my lungs. He may not have wanted this but that won’t bring my brother or mama back to me.

Their footsteps echo through the tunnel as they head towards daylight but I don’t move.

I wait a few more minutes to ensure they’ve really left before I dare to try unburying myself. It’s harder than i expect and I’m too wrung out to muster more energy.

If Aunt Martha and Adalaide hadn’t called out for Jaime and the others to help them dig I might’ve just given up to rest right there in the ashes but the sounds of their frantic digging gives me the strength for one last effort, and I push more ash away reaching for the surface.

Natalie sees the movement of my hand and cries out, scrambling around the ash filled firepit and rocks until she’s pawing at the ash above me.

Aunt Martha and Adalaide join her with streaks of tears running down their faces as they realize I survived. They hadn’t killed me after all. I would’ve laughed even though it wasn’t funny, but I didn’t have the energy.

I cough on the soft ash until I can breathe clear air into my lungs and stand unsteadily, shaking the ash from my hair. Jaime darts forward to support me until I find my balance and we head up the tunnel.

Reality blurs for a bit, my mind incapable of processing anything else until I’ve rested. The next thing I know I’m helped into a chair at the twenty foot table made generations ago when the biggest tree in the valley fell.

I’m trying to listen to what they’re saying but I’m still stuck on the fact that they set me in Roland’s old seat. They set me in the heirs seat as if Roland was still alive. They think he is still alive.

I run a tired hand over the edge of the table where Roland had etched Lion. The thin lines he had scratched for his white spots were soft and faded now. The impact of it is like a physical kick to my stomach. I gasp air back in, but it wavers as I inhale.

I knock over chairs as I rise unsteadily and I just stand with my hands pressed into the table for balance. I don’t know where to go but I can’t sit in that seat for one more second.

Aunt Martha takes me by the shoulders and guides me away from the table. She sets me down by the food prep counter and I bend into a slouch at the weight of what I have to tell them. About Uncle Gideon and Gabriel, about Conrad and Mama, and Roland. I have to keep my promise to Roland.

I’m still trying to build the energy to speak such heavy words when Aunt Martha sets a bowl of spicy soup in front of me and Adalaide brings a bowl of water and wash rags to wipe off the ash.

I’m too exhausted both physically and emotionally to fight her as she wipes my hands clean of blood and ash. My Mama had died in my hands, Roland bled out right beside me, crushed by our own history. He had been head of the family for less than a year, still growing into his role. Now he wouldn’t grow anyway at all except for the grass above the ground he lay under.

I turn away to hide my anguish and Aunt Martha pushes Adalaide and the others back, bending down to look me in the eyes.

“Don’t like my soup eh?”

She asks, knowing it’s my favorite. I simply shake my head. She knows I’m not that petty. My mind is still in the field where my people and family scattered after the first musket was fired.

Hers is there too, I see it in the worry lines on her forehead and the twist of her mouth. She knows in her heart that someone is dead, but she hasn’t asked me who. Her patience breaks me, and the words I’d struggled to say pour out.

“Mama’s dead.” I say, but Aunt Martha just puts a hand on my knee and nods.

“I know child, I saw. You did the right thing to run, it’s what she would’ve wanted.”

I close my eyes for a long second before I open them again and look at my Aunt. I don’t want to tell her. I wish I didn’t have to and that daylight would wash this all away like a bad nightmare, but it doesn’t. Reality is more stubborn than that.

“I know, she told me to run.” I say, looking away as I dash tears though the ash on my face, smearing the hand that Adalaide just wiped clean. I keep my face turned away, not for the shame of my tears, but because I can’t bring myself to look at any of them when they find out I’m all that’s left.

“They killed Roland too.” I sniff, swallowing roughly as I hurry to explain.

“I know I couldn’t have gotten him free, but I didn’t even try. I should’ve tried!”

The sound of several people crying joins my own but I just bend forward, cover my eyes with my hands and take a deep shuddering breath before continuing.

“I left him with the field dogs, they’ll guard him until we come for him. Please. I know we have to free uncle Gabriel and Gideon but promise me we’ll go back for him.”

Aunt Martha smothers me in a hug and I raise my head up just to breathe as she crushes me. My cousins all rush forward too until we’re just a collection of tears and broken hearts pressed close. I let them hold me and force myself to relax. Our collective was strong enough to carry the burdens none of us could shoulder alone.

Aunt Martha makes each of us eat some of the spicy soup she’d made before we set out on the long walk home. Davy and Bernard fall asleep on Rabbit’s back and even the colt seems more subdued in the daylight.

I walk slowly, trying not to watch as Adalaide comforts her younger sister. The two of them were worried for their father and brother and I knew the jealousy wasn’t fair to them, but it still crept in. What I wouldn’t give to still be worried about my father and brother.

The walk seems much shorter than the terror of the night made it, but it still takes awhile. The sun shines heavy down on our shoulders as if the rain and storm of the early morning never happened. Starting to dry the damp grasses and mud.

We make it back to the ruins of our house, expecting to find no one only for Silvie to be bowled over by her father. The shock of it leaves me frozen for a moment before I register a campfire set before the barn. Aunt Esther boils a bucket of water and Uncle Gideon sits beside her tending to Conrad, who was laying on our uncle’s coats.

The others run ahead and uncle Gabriel pulls Bernard and Davy off of Rabbit. Jaime ground ties Rabbit and I stand with the colt, giving them space. I don’t want to be the one to tell them whose lives were lost.

When Aunt Martha hugs uncle Gideon and leans over to check on her oldest son, I turn away and grab a Rabbit’s lead rope. Aunt Esther calls for me to join them but Aunt Martha cuts her off, telling her to let me be. I close the barn door before I can make out any of the words in her quiet murmur.

Rabbit trails me back to his stall, only perking up when I bring him a bucket of feed and make sure he still has a bit of hay. That done, I grab a brush and rub him down. It takes me longer than it should, but I can’t bring myself to leave.

I’m picking out Rabbit’s hooves when uncle Gideon comes in. He sighs deeply and leans over the stall like he doesn’t trust his legs to hold him up. My attention jerks to him and I drop Rabbit’s hoof when I realize I have no idea how they were captured and he could be injured. He blinks calmly at me as I run frantic eyes over him. He looks exhausted and has a sizable welt on the side of his head but otherwise looks okay. I don’t trust it though so I pat Rabbit twice and leave his stall.

My uncle slides down to sit on a straw bale and I join him. We sit in silence for a second before I start asking questions.

“Is Conrad okay?”

My uncle frowns in worry but doesn’t break eye contact. He took a nasty fall when they cut Flint’s front legs out from under’em, but he’s been awake and talking sense since then, so he should be alright. When he sees I’m still not appeased he adds,

“Aunt Esther’s looked him over too and we’ll take him into town just to be sure.”

I nod at that, and frown at the knot on his head. “Did she look you over too? That’s quite the welt you got there.”

Uncle Gideon rubs at the knot but smiles warmly at me.

“Yes she did, and I’m fine. If it puts you at ease I’ll go along with Conrad tomorrow.”

“Good. That’s for tomorrow though,”

I look down at my lap and pull at the straw beneath me, trying to figure out how to convince him to let everyone into the long shed. After only a minute, I give up trying to find an easy way to say it and just say it.

“Today though, we need to go to the long shed. All of us. Roland made me promise I’d take everyone inside.”

Uncle Gideon purses his lips as if considering the circumstances before the light in his eyes fades a bit and he nods slowly.

“Alright then. He had’ to’ve had a good reason, so I’ll trust in that until you tell me what’s going on. Sound good?”

I nod my head numbly, having expected a lot more resistance to a rule I’d never seen broken. He stands with a groan and stretches his arms out before striding off towards the barn door. When I hesitate to follow he pauses, looking back to tweek an eyebrow at me.

“You comin’?”

I just nod again and get to my feet to trail out after him, my mind now centered around what it might be like in the long shed.

Conrad’s sitting up and drinking tea and I can tell by everyone’s expressions that uncle Gideon has already told them what I plan to do.

The adults and Conrad all look apprehensive. Even Adalaide seems uncertain, but Natalie, Jaime and everyone younger has a gleam in their eyes of adventure.

I’m glad to see it’s return, but I wish anything else had caused it, other than me deciding the first thing I’m going to do in my brother’s place is break one of the rules.

Uncle Gideon helps Conrad to his feet and Jaime loops his arm around his shoulders too. We gather quietly and for once, I don’t feel my heart stuttering.

Are you sure about this Warren?”

Uncle Gabriel asks from behind me. Uncle Gideon hushes him but I answer anyway. He knows what’s behind this door and that alone warrants a reply. I keep my eyes on the doors as I answer, worried they’ll refuse to open if I waver.

“Something has to change uncle Gabriel. I’m sure.”

We enter slowly, the others bunching up behind me as if ready for something to attack. I don’t know what’s in here but the fact that Uncle Gideon and Uncle Gabriel were both scanning the rooms like they were waiting for an attack had me on edge. They were the only two left who had been in here.

The air here feels thicker, not because it’s warmer or even because it’s an enclosed space. There’s something old here, older than is natural, though it doesn’t feel wrong. More like the heaviness of a massive tree looming above us.

Uncle Gabriel leans towards me and I tilt my head in his direction to hear his words.

“We’ll come with you as far as the ice room, but after that, you’re the only one who can go further, alright? Just go straight ahead until you get to the oak door.”

I nod but don’t look at him, my eyes are focused on the long hall before me, apprehensive but unwilling to break my promise to Roland. I walk forward slowly and the others don’t rush me, they trail after me though, quiet in the low light.

The hallway seems to go on forever but I don’t change my pace. Not until I get the sudden urge to duck, so I do. Papa had always told us to trust our hearts, and mine was telling me to be still. Uncle Gideon and Gabriel both follow my lead without question and the others are quick to mimic them. I keep my gaze on the door in front of me as something massive crawls its way along the roof. It hisses long enough that I begin to think that may just be its breathing.

Natalie whimpers and I turn to check on her only to find a massive thin grey spider leg directly in front of her. We lock gazes and I watch, trying to send her calm strength until the thing leaves, the massive leg moving slowly up to grasp at another part of the wall. Natalie melts into the wall, the adrenaline bleeding out from her.

It hovers over me now, the weight of it pressing down on me even though it does not touch me. I don’t remember deciding to look at the creature, but I do.

It hisses and curls its thin greyish brown legs in on itself, trying to cover the human head at its center. Its stringy head of human hair covering the old man’s face matches the spider’s legs.

It whispers things on the edge of my hearing when I don’t flinch away, then it sighs softly and moves on, disappearing into the ice room.

No one breathes until it’s gone, swallowed by the dark.

The others’ frozen panic thaws, but there is still tension. I think there will be tension until we stop this endless blood feud.

I glance back at my uncles and give them a small nod, though I don’t know if I’m telling them to keep watch, that I’ll be back, or goodbye. Then I turn to the door and push it open.

Natalie and Bernard try to peer in but uncle Gideon pulls them back. I push the door closed slowly behind me and turn to face an impossibility.

The space widens out far past what should be possible for the long shed to contain. I know this as surely as I know myself, having walked and played around all four sides since before I could remember, but still it stretches out in grassy hills. Grass and only grass covers the hills that move like slow waves.

Undulating green that looks like the faces of our dead. Some I recognize and some I know from the stories carved into the forest of gates. I step forward with an odd sense of calm clarity and talk to one of the heads for a while, not unsettled by their presence.

There is one face that does not fade as I turn to it, and I know this is who I have come here to talk to. This is the shepherd of all the other faces. I step towards her slowly and she smiles at me knowingly, as if she knows not only me, but all that came together to make me.

I see one that looks like me from the corner of my eye, watching as I talk to the face that doesn’t look like any single ancestor, but all of them.

For a moment, I slip beneath the surface and find I am looking at myself. I blink and the face is gone and I am myself again.

I breathe deeply before I focus back on my path until I stand before the mother of faces.

When she hums, she sounds like wildlife. Like cicadas and wind, rivers and caves. She sounds like something older than humanity and wiser than it too. Her voice resonates through the grass when she speaks.

“I must hold your heart for you child.”

I don’t think before I answer, finding myself saying what I really feel despite never having dared to voice it before.

“You can have it. It hurts too much to hold myself.”

She laughs gently at this and her voice surrounds me when she replies. “It will only hurt more, not less. After all, I’m not going to take your heart.”

I try to comprehend her words but they don’t make any sense. Every head of our family had left their hearts buried in these hills before their bodies. I had watched my brother enter and had seen the scar across his chest where it had been taken from him. It matched the scar I had grown up seeing on our Pa. One that had always symbolized protection and safety.

“What do you mean?” I try to ask but the hill the face is on is rising slowly.

“Come here child.” The motherface says, and I do as I’m told. Not even realizing that it’s not an order I have to obey. This doesn’t feel optional. Nothing in the past day has.

“You know what pain is now child, did you think I would take it from you? That which gives you the sympathy to understand those under your care? How would I dare, boy?”

The ground beneath my knees sinks, as if the hills are cradling me in its hand. The hill before me grows a crest, like the Motherface is opening her arms wide.

“Did your Pa not love you? Did your brother not protect you?”

I shake my head then furrow my brow, nodding instead.

Confused only by her word choice, I am certain that my Pa and brother were the same after losing their hearts. But I was always told it wouldn’t be that way. That the leader of our family would have to make sacrifices to be strong enough to lead.

“I don’t understand.” I tell the Motherface. “What did it mean then, what purpose did it serve?”

The Motherface sighs, lowering the ridge until it was just a small point with her face atop it, bent like a crashing wave so she could face me.

“Because I am their keeper. I cradle their hearts to give voice to those that do the same. But now there’s no time for that child. Your heart is not like theirs. You know this, don’t you.”

I nod my head at the grass mound, though I’m not sure if she means the painful squeezing my chest has always subjected me to, or the cowardice that lies there.

“Oh child.” It says, and I hear the echo of my own Mama’s voice layered beneath hers. I nearly break right there, hearing just a hint of her voice when I know she’s not here anymore.

“If you are going to move this world, you will need a bigger fulcrum. Are you willing, even if it will hurt?”

I nod my head again but a white tendril of grass roots lifts my chin until I’m looking the Motherface in the eyes.

“I need your words child. This is not something we can do halfway.”

I’m tempted to ask her to cut the cryptic talk and explain what’s happening. Why I’m weaker than my brother was, why the blood feud has to continue. Why I’m different from my brother and Pa, and his Pa and his as far back as our records are kept, and a thousand other questions I keep tucked in my ribs, but I don’t.

“Yes. If this keeps my family alive, I’ll do it.”

The Motherface seems startled at that, but the expression melts away to something more complicated and she laughs gently from somewhere between my face and hers, musing softly.

“You are much like your founder.” She says, but her face changes again faster than the undulating hills until I’m looking at something resembling pride.

“Not only that child, it will keep you alive. Much longer than you were destined to. Are you ready?”

I don’t hesitate to answer this time, somehow comforted by the mixture of human behavior and legend.

“Yes.”

The Motherface sombers at that but backs away a bit before asking again.

“Three times you must answer boy, three times I’ll ask you. Do you dare to carry your people with you; all of them? Even if it hurts?”

I look at her solid nature-green eyes, no longer caring what pain I have to carry if it means getting what’s left of my family out of this blood feud before it kills all of us.

“Yes.”

The hill the Motherface rests on rises with my answer as she tears herself free to tower above, a rainfall of rich earth crumbles away to reveal a wall of white roots that reach for me, and I lift a hand towards them as if beckoning.

The roots are thin and cold as they wrap around my arm. It doesn’t hurt as much as I expect it to when they begin to burrow into my veins. I gasp anyway from the cold and try to suppress the need to shiver.

The roots tunnel their way through my veins and resurface across my ribs, pulling them aside even as other roots fold the flesh away.

It’s freezing to the point of breathlessness and feels like I contain a thunderstorm on a hilltop with no cover.

I grit my teeth as the motherface bends over and places a white root heart in my chest. The other roots withdraw from my ribs, stretching across the hole they created and threading themselves through the flesh until the hole is woven shut.

The motherface begins to crumble even as she turns to me. I let her speak knowing she doesn’t have much time to say what she wants to.

“My heart will beat with yours now boy, carry us well.”

Then she crumbles into rich earth.

I don’t remember feinting, but I come to in the cool flat grass. I push myself up to look at my surroundings to find the hills are still and unmoving. The color seems drained from them, as if what really made them alive is gone and I press a dirt covered hand to my chest, feeling the tangle of roots that had sewn me shut.

I heave myself to my feet and stumble to the door, simply leaning against it as I realize my heart isn’t squeezing my lungs anymore. I still feel tired, but that weariness hasn’t clawed its way into my bones and settled in my lungs. It’s like a light dust against my skin when it had always dug deeper.

I open the door and smile softly at my uncles, who both run their eyes over me as if expecting I would be changed when I returned. I am, in a way. Though it feels more like I have settled into my bones, along with something else.

I can feel her, the motherface. Hear her voice like a gentle breeze in my head. She and all the others that had rested in those hills were gone now. They’d come with her when she’d uprooted herself.

I turn to uncle Gideon as I lever open the door, letting it swing wide so he can see that what he and the rest of the family had protected and guarded the land for were gone.

My uncles stumble forward as if in disbelief. Though they had only gone in to bury their fathers heart they could sense the place was empty.

They both turn to me but it’s uncle Gideon that voices their question.

“Where has it gone?”

I hover my hand above my chest with a knowing smile before turning to include the rest of the family in the conversation.

“We will bury our dead and then leave this place. The family is our home, not this land. And if the fight for this land is what’s killing us, we’ll leave, and find a new place to settle. Okay?”

I expect objections and the motherface leans close to the surface of me and whispers how to convince them but they don’t object.

I can see the weight of the fighting on all their shoulders, etched into the lines on their foreheads and the bags under their eyes. They will leave, and it will hurt. But we will be alive, and together.

Aunt Martha steps forward and nods at me, holding out her hand to me as if beckoning a small child.

“It’s as you say Warren, the family is the home. And if the soul we’ve guarded all this time is gone, then we can go too.”

I smile softly as we walk out, down the long hall. Making plans and envisioning what our valley will look like. Confident, not in myself, but all the voices I carry with me. With my family beside me, I will ensure all of us -living and gone- make it out.

~The “Hyll” family.~

Gregory. 40. Gregory was the father of Roland and Warren, The head of the house and the oldest of four brothers.

Eli. 25. Deceased. The youngest of the four brothers. Eli was killed while out on the mountain ten years ago by the Boone brothers’ father. He was chased off a cliff and the Hyll family believed it to be a freak accident caused by his horse getting spooked. Eli was an animal trainer and was riding a customer’s green buckskin filly at the time.

Angela. 41. Strong but quiet, she doesn’t need to speak for family to know she is to be listened to. Her strength unsettles strangers who are not used to the power she holds. She passed on her heart defect to Warren, though his is much worse than hers as his father also carried a heart defect that did not affect him. She has spoken to the motherface, as she is the one who cares for it when Gregory is too busy.

Roland. 19. Warren’s older brother. Kind and well liked by the entire family, he was pretty much raised knowing his role would be to take over as head of the family since Uncle Gideon didn’t want it. He dies 260 days after his Pa.

Warren: 12. He has a heart condition that was the result of both sides of his family having heart abnormalities. He hasn’t been trained to become head of house. Though his Pa loved him, he sheltered him for fear of his health. He mostly worked in the barn and house, or brought lunches to the others working the fields and paddocks.

Uncle Gideon: 39. The second oldest brother. He could be head of house after his older brother dies but he refuses, stating that he’s sworn to follow his brother and that includes his heir. He wants nothing more from life than the daily farm chores and a warm meal with his family. (He’d rather follow orders than have to deal with the consequences of giving the wrong order.)

Aunt Martha. 42. Married to Gideon. Mother to David, Adalaide, Conrad, and Natalie. She is kind but strict with the youths and more than capable of doing twice the farm work that any of her kids could but they push themselves to do the same amount of work so that she doesn’t have to. She often ensures the orders of Warren’s men are carried out. Loud and brusk at first but kind and fiercely loyal to her family.

David. 16. (Would be 22) Killed by Arthur Boone when he took a hit to the head from the butt of his musket. He had been protecting Adalaide and Conrad.

Adalaide: 19. first born of Warren’s uncle, she was close with Roland as she liked his best friend so the two often schemed together. She wants to study to be a nurse, but is torn between staying with the family and moving to go to school. Her mother is working on getting her apprenticed to the town doctor while she’s caring for her mother but Adalaide doesn’t know this.

Conrad: 16. Third born of Warren’s eldest uncle, Gideon. His only surviving son. He was Warren’s best friend and often modified the games they were playing to accommodate him. He betrays Warren to their castoff relatives after the news that Roland is dead.

Natalie: 10. Third born of Warren’s oldest uncle, the cousin who hangs out with him the most, as the other boys know that he can’t keep up with them.

Uncle Gabriel: 37. wanted to be a writer but never quite finalized a story idea. He works the farm with his two older brothers and writes articles to send in to the newspaper that being in a bit of extra cash. (It’s set aside for medical expenses)

Aunt Esther. 32. Married to Gabriel. Mother to Todd, Jaime, Silvie, and Davy. She tends to be lenient so when one of the kids is in trouble they’ll confess to her first. She knows this and has informed the other adults, they also play into it so that the kids have someone safe to come to when they know they’ve messed up. She was staying in town caring for her ailing mother when the fire took place.

Todd. 13. Deceased. First born of Gabriel and Esther, he was killed by Jack Boone on the way to school when they were both kids.

Jaime: 14. Second son of Gabriel. His older brother was killed at fourteen by the Boones when he was ten, Silvie doesn’t remember their older brother or why Jaime is so protective and determined to be treated as an adult.

Silvie. 7. Silvia is the middle child of Gabriel and Esther. She’s smart but not smart enough to know when to be quiet, her sharp tongue and quick wits have gotten her into more trouble than anything she’s actually done, though she’s gotten into quite a few schemes on the farm. The other cousins don’t always want to get involved in whatever favor she asks because they know no matter how smart she makes it sound, they’re likely to end in trouble, not her.

Davy. 4. David is the youngest of Esther and Gabriel. He doesn’t speak much yet but his sharp brown eyes follow people around like he’s memorizing patterns.

Bernard. 8. The son of Esther’s younger sister. He was left on their doorstep when they realized his shoulders were uneven and he’d most likely grow up to be unable to help take on his share of the family’s work. While he had no parents in the house, everyone parents him and he’s not left out in any way. All kids are parented by all adults.

—

Sean O’Carrick.19. Roland’s best friend since they were seven. They met while out in the forests near town. Sean was hunting birds with a slingshot and Roland was chopping wood.

Henry Wallace. 12. Warren’s best friend. His mother marries into the Boones family and he’s forced to hunt Warren.

—

~The “Boone” family.~

Adam Boone. 42. The third brother. Wife divorced him after watching him try to kill Warren when he was seven (Roland protected him). He remarried Alice Wallace and adopted her son, Henry.

Alice (Wallace) Boone. 37. She lost her husband to a gunfight after he tried to hold the town doctor hostage for laudanum. He was typically drunk and abusive, which is why she was glad Henry spent most of his time up at the Hyll’s place.He was safe there and she knew he would be protected should his pa try to come get him. When he died she lost their townhouse to her husband’s debts and would’ve been forced to work off the rest if Adam Boone hadn’t proposed a marriage. She didn’t know how bad the rift between both sides of the family was when she agreed. She is unaware of the danger Henry is in or what they’re pressuring him to do. If she had gone to the Hyll’s they would’ve taken her in with no questions asked, but she did not.

Arthur Boone. 49. Head of the Boone family. He had four sons and a daughter but three of his kids are dead, Arthur Jr, Quill, and Arthelia. His surviving sons are Jack and Paul.

Polly Boone. 47. She married Arthur for money but quickly found ways to hold her own by spreading rumors to get the others to do what her husband wanted. She would push the others until they felt they’d gone too far to go back and should just duck their heads and do as Arthur said, that way whatever happened wasn’t their fault as they were “just obeying orders”. This cemented their place in the family and violence eventually became their normal.

Arthur Jr Boone. Deceased at 24. (Would have been 27) Killed from a gunshot of unknown origins in the city. Arthur Sr believed the hit was secretly set up by the Hyll’s and his hatred for them began to cross a line, but in reality Arthur Jr’s death was the result of him blackmailing some of the locals to try and get them to sell their shareholdings in a company.

Paul Boone. 22. Learned to bury his grief for his oldest brother in hatred, as he had always believed he would make a great right hand man for his brother, who he had worshipped as a kid. He quickly stepped up as the heir to the family but he worries he’ll have to fight his Uncle Ballard for the title.

Arthelia Boone. Deceased at 19. She was bit by a Hyll field dog while trying to destroy the forest of gates. The bite was deep, and she developed a blood infection and died of heart failure. (She had a heart defect inherited only from one side of the family and it would’ve never affected her had she not developed a blood infection.)

Quill Boone. Deceased at 17. His death was caused by a warning shot that caused his horse to spook and he broke his neck in the fall. Gideon Hyll still blames himself for the boy’s death though he did not directly cause it.

Jack Boone. 17. Goads his older brother Paul into more violence, he doesn’t think about much except violence. He tends to target anything or anyone that looks weak and, when called out on it, he simply states he is doing the world a favor, culling the weak or damaged just like nature intended. They don’t stop him though the other Boones do tend to avoid him. They’re rich enough to buy meat from the town butcher but they often don’t, as Jack prefers to hunt and butcher creatures himself.

Ballard Boone. 46. Second oldest brother and father of Basil and Anne Boone. The calmest of the four brothers, if it was just him and his wife and kids the feud would’ve ended. He mostly handles paperwork and money for the family, researching and deciding where to invest and what business ventures to take. He tends to stay back from the arguments and just do what he’s told and no more. He seems unapproachable to the next generation but he would be the kindest to them if they worked up the courage to interact with him. He was against involving Henry in the fire and fight.

Sarah Boone. Sarah Boone was a city girl. She was fascinated by all the plants and became the herbalist of the family though she has no formal training. She raises plants like lavender, sage, queen Anne’s lace, and henbane to treat both people and animals. The family typically just goes to the town doctor but they go to her for mild troubles. She and Ballard had three miscarriages before having Basil. Basil was born almost a month early so the rest of the family blames that for their over protectiveness. Sarah nearly died delivering Anne, who was also born early though wasn’t as weak as her older brother. She is unaware her plants may have played a part in her difficulties.

Basil Boone. 16. Introspective and quiet like his father. He’s scared of Jack but fiercely protective of Anne. He typically keeps himself to himself and occasionally “helps” his father with paperwork, which his father uses to teach him how to handle money and business deals.

Anne Boone 14. Bolder and braver than her older brother, she often gets them into trouble that he has to bail them out of. The two are fiercely loyal to each other and often squabble with the other Boone kids, though they never let outsiders see the dissent.

Roderick Boone. 36. The fourth and youngest of the Boone brothers. He wants to impress his older brothers so he often takes things further than he would be willing to go if he was acting on his own. Their father didn’t think he was intelligent or worth mentoring so he was left mainly alone. This should’ve allowed him to grow more than the strict hand of their father would have but it had the opposite effect and he yearned for their fathers approval. When Arthur moved to the city for college he took Roderick with him to work as an errand boy he replaced his yearning for their fathers approval with a need for Arthur’s approval.

Odelia Boone. 38. Prefers to spend her days in the town people-watching and gathering gossip. She’s tried multiple times to get Roderick to move back to the city but he refuses because he knows Arthur won’t agree to it. She has taken her daughter, Elessa on a few trips to the city to dress shop and look at all girls boarding schools.

Edmund Boone.18. Son of Roderick and Odelia Boone. He has a fierce sense of family loyalty and is involved in the blood feud mainly because he feels the Hyll’s property belongs to his side of the family, especially the forest of gates. He has tried sneaking in there many times but it is well guarded by the Hyll’s field dogs. He believes the forest of gates is closely guarded because it has the property’s history written there and will prove that his side of the family had been cheated out of their land rights.

Elessa Boone. 15. Doesn’t really want anything to do with the family feud, thinks it’s overdramatic for a piece of land. She is trying to get her father to let her go to an all girls boarding school in the city, one that her mother was attending when she met Roderick. She thinks Anne is arrogant because of her intelligence and gets easily bored with the country and small town. She usually hangs around the town’s stores looking at the magazines.

Animals:

Meadow: paint mare

Ridge: bay gelding

Malley: grey and white corded sheep dog.

Flint. Conrad’s black gelding.

Sparrow. Roland’s chestnut mare.

Rabbit. Jamie’s colt dark bay.

Banner. A solid chestnut stallion. He was Warren’s papa’s horse.

Dandy. Palomino half draft mare used in the fields.

-The forest of gates field dogs.-

Lion. A massive tan and white livestock mutt. Oldest livestock dog.

Blizzard. A massive white livestock mutt. She is Lion’s last surviving littermate.

Tracks. A large black and brown large shaggy livestock mutt.

Buck. A large black and brown shaggy livestock mutt. Littermate to Tracks.

Pine. A large black and brown shaggy livestock mutt.

Spark. A large black and brown shaggy livestock mutt.

Coal. A large black rough coated livestock mutt. Antisocial but she tolerates Slate.

Root. A large tan and brown rough coated livestock mutt. She showed up one day and hasn’t left the forest of gates since.

Slate. A large black pepper grey livestock mutt. He turns incredibly quickly. Never far from Coal.

Stone. A large pepper grey livestock mutt. Big, but surprisingly light on her feet.

Steel. A large brown and pepper grey livestock mutt. He’s the heaviest of his litter mates and a bit slower than the others. Better suited for cornering intruders and raising the alarm.

Pebble. A retriever sized white and pepper grey livestock mutt. The smallest of the litter, he’s very fast and can jump higher than the rest of his litter mates.

—Neither family refers to the others by their real last name, as they have the same last name. Legally they are all still Murphy but only in court or when referencing both sides of the family does anyone refer to them that way. Neither family goes by their family name often. —

The Boone’s.

The richer, more well off side of the family who do not mind cheating customers for more profits. Luck with a massive crop and a banking mixup made them well off. This family is descended from the oldest son. Three generations ago the Boone ancestors father offered him the money from the crop/bank mixup or the land. Their ancestor chose the money, moved to town and did not speak to his farther again before his passing. He invested the money and became quite rich, but was never satisfied. Part of his wealth was from pure luck and, thinking the money was magic, grew curious about what magic was on his brothers half of the inheritance. This is what began the war between the family.

The Hyll’s.

The descendants of the younger son who decided to keep being a farmer and invest his smaller cut of the crop money back into their small town and fields by hiring help to survey, plan and buy more fields. Their father left the younger son the rest of the land because he thought the oldest was going to stay in the city, and had no interest in farming. This included the sections of land that the forest of gates and the greenhouse are on. Their ancestor stuck by his father and cared for him in his old age and was so inherited the task of protecting the motherface and updating the forest of gates.