• Closed • Mother

[Mute]

"Silence Reigns . . ."

I settled the man's unease the best I could with a nod and a sad smile, lest he think the prospect of the woman being a family member of mine was in fact not that awful of a possibility. Not that he would be incorrect, of course, to come to that conclusion. The truth was, I didn't know how I felt about the situation as of yet. I had already accepted that my mother had died arcs ago, so her survival was unexpected and and still a slippery scenario that I had yet to fully grasp. But Eddy didn't know this. He didn't know anything beyond the chance of relation and, to him, that was enough to pity in an attempt to imagine himself in my shoes. Let him; my reality was too complex for his simple upbringing.

In a way, my smile wasn't just for him; it was him. Or, at least, a reflection of his small, unassuming place in this world.

I was already standing as Eddy and his companions made to leave the Home and Hearth. While the men went about with their last minute preparations, I reached down and ripped the slip of paper off of the pad, tucking it away in the pocket of my pants. Even if any of the men noticed me, it seemed a simple enough gesture to avoid any sort of suspicion. I was just a man borrowing an establishment's resources to help in his communication and didn't want to leave their property cluttered with his scribbling. And, of course, he didn't want someone coming by later and piecing together his conversations with the laborers. Not that, I thought, I could help it too much; in a town this small, word would probably get around anyway.

I fell into the back of the crowd of men as we made our way through Gunvorton to Eddy's property. It was funny how an unaltered routine could blind the laborers to their shadowy companion tailing their path, a blatant change in normalcy. Nevertheless, the short journey was made in general silence. None of the other men seemed to interested in questioning me further about the situation. Perhaps the sordid nature of my relative had dampened their curiosity, or perhaps they just understood how difficult it was to carry a conversation with a man who could not respond. It was easier, indeed, to just go about one's day. Of course, I raised no objection.

After passing through a noisy, decrepit gate, the men gathered around the aforementioned chicken coop to study the damage from the supposed thief. The silence continued within the group as they studied the scene, which gave me an opportunity to do the same. I was not adept at the study of breaking and entering, so I had little to offer in way of the method used in the burglary, though the dents in the doorway did suggest blunt force instead of more subtle means. More importantly, though, this theft spoke to the conditions of the attacker. It was likely that my mother was incapable of foraging for food in whatever hovel she had holed up in, which suggested that she was either in a location devoid of edible fauna or she was ill-equipped to hunt or fish. Not that she was particularly skilled in this regard the last time I saw her, regardless. I mean, her expectation when she ran off to woods like these was not to live.

Not when the only thing she took with her was a rope.

And yet, she was potentially alive, out there somewhere in the direction that Eddy pointed. He couldn't offer more than that, but that was fine; he and I may not be woodsmen, but neither was my mother. Reaching out, I patted one hand on the farmer's shoulder in thanks and headed off towards the area he had directed me towards. I looked overhead to get a bearing of my directions. Gunvorton sat on the western coast of the island, so as long I knew where the suns were setting at later in the trial, I should be able to make it back to the town without much difficulty.

When I was out of sight of Eddy and the other laborers, I retrieved the hand crossbow from my bag. The bolt I loaded on the ship still sat in the clamp; the other nineteen I snatched up three of the other bolts and stuck them down my right boot. It was awkward to have them there, but they were more accessible there than rolling loose in my bag. I wasn't convinced that there was a lot of animals in the direction that I was going, but better safe than sorry.

Satisfied, I headed deeper into the woods.

[Vorpal]

Eddy watched the silent stranger disappear into the wilderness, wondering what the outcome of the younger man's search would be. Regardless, he decided, whomever the relative was, they were lucky to have someone looking for them. If ever such a situation befell his own family, Eddy liked to think that he would be doing the same. Out chasing the faintest rumor to ensure they were alright. Not quite understanding the complex situation, the Gunvorton farmer returned to his daily rituals and old companions.

As Mute made his way off through the scruffy vegetation along the coast, he would come to understand that this was a very lean area. There were few animals about, and the plants that grew in the drained earth were far from thriving. If his mother had indeed been out here, and considering her lack of skills in the wild, she would have had a hard time sustaining herself. It would be reasonable to assume that she had started to rely on the nearby town of Gunvorton for scrounged meals.

Gradually, the silent man would stumble across a humble creek, crawling to join the nearest river and then the Hollow Sea. The water provided an uncharacteristically cheerful burbling to the area, and down stream, there seemed to be a structure among the thin trees.

It almost blended into the wilderness around it, however, should Mute choose to follow the creek toward it, he would find that it was a sort of shed. In the distant past, this shelter had been used as a fisherman's shed. The long forgotten man would leave his supplies and camp out here until he had secured himself a decent catch. Now, the shed had rotten and fallen into disrepair. One of the beams had crumbled away, gnawed at by hungry insects, and the roof was tilted precariously to one side.

There shouldn't have been signs of life in the area. At least not human life. Yet Mute would find such things all around the site.

[Mute]

"Silence Reigns . . ."

Having spent most of my life in the streets of Andaris and Almund, I could not possibly claim to be a woodsman. Even my foray into the Sweetvine earlier in the season hardly counted towards any such boast. Then, I had traveled with guides much more familiar with the land than I had been--not that that meant a lot, given my aforementioned inexperience--and had offered little in way of benefit to the navigating that trial. No such volunteer had stepped forward from the crowd of farmers and laborers inspecting the chicken coop to escort me through this block of trees outside Gunvorton, so I continued this part of the journey alone. Which was probably for the better, I thought; if men like Eddy could feel uneasy just talking about this wild woman, I could only imagine their reaction when they finally came across her. Not everyone had a stomach for this kind of scenario.

Besides, it wasn't like I was in search of covered tracks or broken twigs anyway. My mother was no more a wilderness expert than I was, so I had no fear that I would find traces of her eventually. My earlier suspicions were verified with the scarcity of game and forage in these woods that I walked through. Unable to hunt, my mother would be forced to scavenge on the outskirts of Gunvorton. Each trip between the town and her hiding spot would only create more and more signs of life that I, even as unskilled as I was, I could see. Maybe not judge age or details about my mother, but at the very least see.

Before too long, I came across a small stream that had survived the Saun heat, It was impressive how nature worked. I had witnessed lakes dry beneath these twin suns, yet this small creek fought and won this season. There was some deep symbolism in that notion somewhere, but I wasn't interested in exploring it quite yet. From a more practical standpoint, a stream signified a water source for the local fauna to access. Perhaps a human as well. So I followed the stream down its path of life and found, before too long, a shed. Decrepit, seemingly a structure long abandoned, and signs of activity all around it.

Bingo.

I moved slowly towards the structure, hand crossbow aimed in front of me and knees bent in a crouch. I didn't think my mother would attack me, at least once she recognized who I was, but it didn't hurt to be prepared for an attack before that happened. Who knew how much of her mind she had lost in the arcs after her disappearance. No sound betrayed her from within the shack, but that didn't mean she wasn't cowering inside hoping this intruder would leave her alone. But I wasn't about to oblige her that.

Coming up beside the shed, I knocked lightly across its side with my knuckles.

[Vorpal]

The light knock on the shed reverberated with an almost uncomfortable loudness in the wilderness. There was no sudden movement from within the shed. No figure that made to bolt or attack. Only a songbird took off from the tree overhead in indignation at the noise. However, a moment later, behind Mute there was a series of thuds. It was as though they resonated in reply to his earlier rapping.

Upon turning around, the silent man would find himself across the small camp from a ragged, scrawny looking woman. Her frightened, wide eyes seemed too large for her frame, and it gave the creature the unfortunate airs of a crazed animal. Yet as unfamiliar as she had become, the mad woman would still be recognizable to Mute as his long lost mother. If he had any feelings left for his guardian, he might pity her state of deterioration. As it was, it was difficult to tell if there was any recognition in those saucer eyes.

The things that had made the sounds seemed to be the items that the woman had dropped in surprise. Some round river rocks scattered about her feet, their purpose and use unclear to all but her. Though his mother had left intending to end her life when Mute last knew of her, things had obviously not gone to plan. The small fishing shed had been her home for some time, from the looks of it.

Seeing the crossbow in his hand, his mother muttered something indecipherable and made to retreat toward the thinning tree-line. To her, armed men had been nothing but trouble, and she expected no different this time. Whatever had held her back from the noose, she seemed quite wary of death now. Eyes darting from Mute to the seemingly empty air around him, she shook her head and muttered something under her breath once more before taking a few steps back.

[Mute]

"Silence Reigns . . ."

I didn't know what I had been expecting from my cursory knock on the shed wall. The long forgotten child in me probably expected my mother to step through those doors, untainted by time or insanity, smile on her face despite my interruption on her private moment. The ever cautious adult, on the other hand, braced with a lunging attack from a creature whose only semblance to my parent was physical. Neither happened, however, which was what I should've expected in the first place. Nothing at all.

Save for sounds behind me.

I turned slowly, hopeful that I wouldn't spook whoever was behind me into fight or flight. She crouched out of reach, wide eyes staring at me like I was a predator encroaching on her home. There was no recognition, as far as I could tell, behind those bulging orbs. But I knew her. I had looked into those mirrors, eyes like mine, for arcs. They had scolded and comforted me, loved and looked after me from birth. I never could have forgotten them, even if I had wanted to.

And I had wanted to forget. My mother had fled to face her end on her own terms and I was willing then to let her do just that. I had been selfish, then, of course. A wounded child who had nursed his own struggles by poking and prodding at my mother's psyche. Her fragile emotions had been the greatest training block on which to grow in my understanding of Empathy. It made sense, in that light, to think that she might be afraid of me. I never got the chance to tell her what I had done before she ran away and I was never sure if she ever knew the truth. Part of me thinks she did because I had seen fear in those eyes prior to now.

I took a moment to study the objects my mother had dropped, which had made the sounds that had alerted me to her arrival. From where I stood, the river stones seemed nondescript, smooth and unmarred on the side facing up. There was a chance, of course, that there were more distinguishable markings on the other sides but I didn't dare move any closer. If I approached too quickly, my mother was likely to bolt, and I didn't trust my ability to keep pace or track her flight. She knew these woods better than I did.

Noting her study of the weapon in hand, I lowered the crossbow so it wasn't aiming directly at her. She didn't seemed hostile at the moment so I wasn't fearful of an attack. I needed her to recognize me as her son, not an assailant. That seemed a difficult prospect given how far off from sanity the woman had fallen--I couldn't for the life of me decipher her mutterings as she glanced from me to empty air around us--but there was one trigger that might do the trick. At the very least, it didn't hurt to try.

So, with a smile, I signed a single word to the woman: "Mother."