I really want to this be submitted to, well, anywhere that would take it. So, *cringes* tear it apart!
EDIT: I updated it to fix some things
(I attempted to fix the switch in POV)
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Would it work this time? Would they be there? Katherine hoped to whatever god was listening that her trip would not be in vain. Her feet beat out an unsteady rhythm against the path. The pathway was a winding tail, the dirt packed down with time. It was the trail to her last possible resort. As usual, the trade off from open space to jungle was sudden and abrupt. With it came unwanted memories of the past, hopes that had been raised, spirits that had been crushed. With the sudden shadow came the doubts, crouching along behind her, slinking in the back of her mind.
Would it work? She had had her hopes raised and crushed far too many times to even consider the optimistic outcome. In her arms, Danielle reached out, the toddler’s pudgy hands grasping at the noxious dark green of a tree leaf.
“No, honey, don’t touch anything.” Katherine’s voice was soft and weak, too small to be of any warning to her child. Danielle, though, picking up on her mother’s worry, quickly drew her small hand back, pressing her face close to Katherine.
She thinks I will protect her, Katherine thought. That as long as she was in her mother’s arms, nothing bad would happen.
If only that were true. Being in Katherine’s arms had not starved away the sickness; it had not flushed out the fever. The comfort of a mother’s embrace is an enchanting lie, playing a wistful tune, drawing up closer and closer until the solid ground was jerked out from under. As people grow older, they learn gradually that love does not conquer all. A mother’s love is not a shield, able to protect from all the harm of life. It is only a wish, a whispered prayer that life would take it easy on this precious new child.
“We’re almost there,” Katherine muttered to herself, slightly bouncing Danielle in her arms. The sleepy child raised her head, blinking as her wide eyes viewed Katherine with innocence.
“Will we get to go home, after this?” Danielle asked, the childish tint on her words pricking Katherine’s heart.
“I don’t-yes, yes honey, after this we will go home.” The lie flew easily and smoothly from her lips. She would have hated herself for the simple lie, Danielle had been lied to far too many times in her short life, but the happiness that sprung forth in her daughters eyes made it all worth it.
“And we’ll get a house-” Katherine continued, the first lie opening up a mental doorway for which all wishful happy endings poured out.
“By the sea?”
Katherine nodded, her eyes far away. “Yes, by the sea.”
“And no more icky medicine, right?”
A small smile, the first in a long time, smoothed Katherine’s wrinkles out, erasing them with only a simple gesture. “No more icky medicine, promise.”
Danielle nodded, for the moment content. “When can we leave?”
Katherine was silent, her eyes down as she carefully picked out a treacherous path over the roots that had burst forth from the earth. Her eyes roamed the thick, steamy forest, as if expecting to find an answer hidden within the deadly brilliance of nature.
“Once we talk to them, hon.” Katherine told her softly, the weight in her arms growing heavier by the second.
“They’ll make everything right again?”
For a minute, Katherine felt the old anger come back. Why Danielle? Why did it have to be her child? She would have gladly taken Danielle’s place, if given the chance. The disease had sucked all the life out of the toddler, snatching any remnant of a normal life harshly from her grasp. Where normal children giggled and played, their carefree childhood filled with freedom and joy, Danielle’s childhood was full of fear, of sickness. She knew the inside of a doctor’s office more than she knew the inside of the classroom. Rather than play, the girl spent most of the time in Katherine’s arms.
She’s spent too much time out of my arms to know that everything we have is fleeting, Katherine realized. Her little daughter already knew the hard truth that so many adults struggled to accept.
“Yes,” Katherine said thickly, pushing back a weak curl on her daughter’s forehead. “They will make everything right again.”
The trip was over before long, the steamy air prodding her hair back and forth. Hidden in the jungle, harsh voices cried out. Birds, beasts, and everything in between yelped their fury and hurt. That tiny squeak to the right was the final sound that the animal would ever make. It was gone. It's departure, like it's birth, unnoticed, passed over by an uncaring world.
Pulling Danielle closer, Katherine warily eyed the trees, wishing that their poisonous green was not so closing. There was no unused room here in the jungle. Every possible inch was used, crowed in by a multitude of plants who throttled each other in the endless fight for life. It was so violent, so ruthless, it made Katherine uneasy, and she started to walk faster, her eyes quickly scouting ahead to find the path. The path couldn’t last for much longer, she knew that. It had been a long time since she had last been on the path, and the differences between the two times were startling. She had been young then, and carefree, following him deeper and deeper into this same jungle. The trees hadn’t been closing in on them as they were now, but rather inviting, their green leafs so bright with color it hurt her eyes. The flowers had been beautiful then, now they were nothing but an unfulfilled promise, a hurting ache that never went away. He once picked one up, a bright purple one, the petals springing out to reveal a pure white center. With one loving smile, he had tucked it behind her ear, an unspoken promise.
But flowers die, withering away until not even the memory remains. So had he. Not by any conscious choice, certainly not by free will, but rather by the cruel and heartless mistress we call fate. He had been torn away, withering into dust, just like the promised flower had.
Katherine pushed back the memories, her eyes fixated on the break of trees she saw ahead. It was unusual to see such a clearing, and her heart lurched because she knew that it had been made by man. Nature had not opened up a pathway for her, a freewill act to heal her daughter. No; men had struggled, sweating out their frustration as they pounded the forest that always hit back. They had worked, worked until they could work no more. Yanking part of the land from the claws of nature is never an easy task, and they had fought valiantly. Even now, they continued the on going struggle to keep the land their own.
They sudden absence of trees made her feel venerable rather than safe, as she had expected. Nervously, her eyes jumped around the small meadow, prodding all the shadows, hoping to find some human form. They were well adapted to the jungle, and easily hid within its grasp. She knew that she could not find them; they had to find her.
One appeared, with the grace and mystery of a jungle cat, his leathery brown skin catching her eye. He looked like he had always been standing there, and Katherine wondered how her eyes had passed over him in the first place. The man was old, his gait unsteady, his hair a mass of white. His eyes, as they pinned her there, were as strong as a man half his age. With a stick in one hand to lean on, he slowly made his way to where she stood. The wrinkles of time covered his face, hiding any emotion deep within them. They were a testament to wisdom, a testament to strength. He had survived far longer than the normal life expectancy, and his proud, lean body now stood before her.
Turning his eyes from her, they flickered over the little girl in her arms. Danielle lifted her head, turning to look at the strange man in front of her. Her head tilted and unsure she glanced back at her mother. Katherine had run out of answers a long time ago, and the words of comfort fled from her mouth.
“Can you help her?” Her voice was shaky, uncertain. The soft sentence was nearly lost in the jungle, as nature snatched away any proof of humans.
“With every gift,” he began. His voice was rocky, a sign of his age, and for a second his eyes met hers with such empathy that the ashes of hope, a phoenix that had long been dead, was stirred up.
“With every gift, there is a,” he voice faltered, and for a moment his eyes flickered away from her face. “There is a price.”
Why does he act as if that’s a problem? Katherine wondered. She would do everything, give up anything he asked, if it meant Danielle being well again.
“What do you want?” Katherine asked him simply, watching as he considered the question.
“It is not what I want, but what he who gives the gift wants.”
Blinking, Katherine considered what he had said. Rubbish. Just some superstition, like any other found in remote tribes.
It’s this ‘superstition’ that you want, she reminded herself, knowing she had to play along.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “What does ‘he who gives the gift’ want?”
Here the old man visible faltered his eyes on the ground. His mouth opened once or twice as if to answer, but only air came out.
“He, he requires,” the old man cleared his throat, not meeting Katherine’s eyes. “A life for a life.”
Katherine didn’t gasp, she didn’t reel in shock. There was no reaction, emotionally or physically from her. She had known, deep inside of her what it would come to. Her life for her daughter’s. She had struggled over this, all the doctor’s voice ringing in her head. ‘None of the medicine is working…’ ‘I’ve never seen since a complex case…’ and finally the answer they all gave.
‘I’m sorry but I can’t help her.’
With a firmness and sureness that she hadn’t felt since he had left, she met the man’s eyes.
“Who will take care of her?” She asked simply, wanting to get all the info out in the open before she verbalized the unspoken answer that they both knew would come.
“She will be raised with us, a way to ensure her health,” he replied softly.
Katherine slowly nodded. She looked down at her daughter, her lips pressed back in the first sincere large smile since he had left. Danielle looked up, a small smile on her little red lips. With one, soft kiss on the forehead, Katherine handed her only daughter to the old man.
“Promise me one thing,” she said, pushing back the tears that threatened to come. “Promise me that you will love her.”
Well, I'm Demeter, and it's nice to meet you!
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