The severed had always been an unspoken horror, discussed in
whispers, cast as victims or villains in campfire stories. No one ever took it for granted, and among
the packs for certain, it was tantamount to a death sentence. He didn’t know how other cultures handled it,
but he knew what happened to any severed among the packs.
He had seen
it once, while they were visiting another pack.
Branain had been young then, but old enough to remember and put the
pieces together. He had been playing
with several other boys his age, throwing a ball around and chasing each other
without any need for rules or structure.
A hush had
fallen over the whole pack before any of the kids knew what was happening. The laughter died, the pups tucked their
tails between their legs and hid behind their boys. A woman came staggering into their line of
sight around a building on the other side of the town. She wasn’t hurt, but her face and arms were
covered in scratches, as if she’d walked blindly through the forest and let all
the sharp branches scrape over her skin.
The look on her face drew all the boys into a knot together, the pups
behind them, staring wide-eyed at her.
Branain didn’t know her, but a few of the boys from the pack whispered
the same name, so he knew she had been one of theirs.
No longer.
A loose
ring of men formed around her as she staggered to a halt, their hands spread
and open, talking soothingly to her. She
didn’t seem to be paying attention; he wasn’t sure she had even noticed them at
all. That face, those eyes, held
absolutely nothing. Not even pain or
fear, which he thought he would feel if he ever lost Zian. Just nothing.
When one of the men approached and led her off by the arm, she didn’t
protest. She still seemed beyond even
noticing. The other men watched them
leave for a moment, then dispersed. The boys
around Branain dispersed, running off home to be with their parents.
Branain sat
down right where he was. Zian crawled
into his lap. He put his arms firmly
around the pup and held him close, staring at the last place he’d seen that
woman. The last place he knew anyone in
the pack except that one man would ever see that woman again. He didn’t need to be told what had happened
to her after that. He knew. He just didn’t want to.
When his
father found him a little later, he sat down next to his son and put his arm
around the pair of them. Felic curled
around them on the other side, resting his head on Branain’s feet. Even though he knew, Branain still questioned
his father, pushing for some other explanation, but Kennet didn’t pull any
punches. He explained, in simple terms a
child could understand but it was still the truth, about why she had been
alone, and about why she shouldn’t be left that way.
“No one
would leave her to that pain,” Kennet had said.
“Forcing her to keep living would be mean. For her sake, we helped her so she wouldn’t
hurt anymore. In the only way that
really matters, she was already dead.
After you die, you can’t keep living.”
Branain
cuddled close to his father, squeezing his eyes shut. “If I lost Zian, would you help me, Daddy?”
Kennet’s
arm tightened around him; Felic whined. “Of
course I would. I love you. I wouldn’t let you stay in pain.”
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