Fauve

Fauve

She was small and delicate. Her hands and feet were dainty, and she stood a few inches shorter than most her age. Her sun-kissed face was round and splattered with freckles that created a tough yet vulnerable appearance. Her lively green eyes complimented her wildly curly and unbrushable rusty red hair.

The girl lived with her father and pregnant mother in a small cabin house on the edge of a little-known farm town. The atmosphere of the town had changed over the course of the year of the girl’s eighth birthday. People slipped into a quiet, nervous, and angry state. They snapped frequently at each other, ignored strangers, and cut themselves off from friends. The girl didn’t know why this was happening, but she wanted it to stop. Her father was always away and her mother's hands threatened to smack her face too often.

Months after the strangeness had begun, the girl became aware of the one ominous word that always seemed to hang in the air during each ordinary conversation: war. She didn’t know what the word meant, and nobody would tell her when she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” said her father.

“You wouldn’t understand,” said her mother. The girl didn’t bother pushing any farther. Her parents were both grenades ready to erupt with anger at the slightest aggravation.

The girl spent most of her time in those months making puzzles and playing with her dolls by herself. School was out for summer, but that was no weight off of her narrow shoulders, because now she was alone. Her friends didn’t come over. In fact, she wasn’t allowed to leave the yard.

~ ~ ~

They came after four and a half months of the horrid solitude and a constant state of irritation.

Soldiers. Two dozen or so large men in intimidating uniforms. The gruff way they talked and stiff, determined way they moved inspired the little girl to call them ‘the monsters’.

The monsters stayed in the town for a couple of weeks. Some stayed in people’s homes, while others slept in tents on the fringes of the neighborhoods. The monsters carried giant guns with them wherever they went, as if the poor townsfolk would dare to do them any harm.

A few tents of monsters staked their quarters just outside of the girl’s property. They were loud and boisterous. Often the girl had to fall asleep listening to their passionate shouting and deep laughter, along with her parent’s quiet but anxious arguing.

Then they were gone. Just like that. The monsters packed up everything they brought, plus more, and left in a single day.

And with them, the girl’s father.

Her mother sobbed through the entire night. The girl tried to comfort her, to hug her, but her mother shoved her away. The girl retreated to her room, the only safe and peaceful place left. She picked up her favorite doll and tried to block out the sounds of her mother’s weeping. Soon she was crying too. They were ugly, uncontrollable sobs that wracked her small body as she sat on her purple bed. The girl finally cried herself to sleep, curled up in a ball around the doll, protecting it from the broken outside world.

The days that followed were slow and dull. The girl mostly stayed in her room, and her mother mostly slept. Her mother didn’t make any meals, so the girl had to scavenge what she could from the cupboards and fridge.

Mother and daughter drifted apart and never grew back together. On the fifth without her father day the girl’s mother dug a box out from the top drawer in her dresser- the one her daughter couldn’t reach. She opened the box with care and lifted out it’s content: a small black pistol, fully loaded.

The girl walked in on her mother. She was hunched over on the end of her bead. Tears were streaming down her face as she clutched a gun in her lap. She hadn’t noticed her daughter walk in.

“Momma,” the girl said. Her mother’s face jerked up. In a brief instant her hand raised with the gun and shot at the girl. The thunderous bang made the girl stumble backwards. Her mother had missed. The bullet had pierced the wall beside her, shot straight through a family portrait.

The girl’s mother’s eyes widened in shock at her own actions. Her shaking hands dropped the gun. It clattered to the floor heavily. The mother looked up at her tiny daughter trembling in the doorway.

“No. No, no, no! I didn’t mean it,” she wailed desperately. Her daughter’s eyes flashed, overcome with distrust. “Baby, I’m sorry!” But the girl was already running away.

~ ~ ~

She ran until her tiny feet and lungs burned fiercely. Her legs had carried her straight out of the house and into the woods. She hadn’t stopped until her feet and legs bled from intense and painful assault from the vegetation.

A gunshot sounded from the town she had run from.

The girl sat down heavily in the clearest spot she could find and leaned against the trunk of a thick pine tree. Her flight instinct turned suddenly into paralysis, and she didn’t move until she slumped over in sleep.

~ ~ ~

The girl awoke to the joyful sounds of chirping birds and pale yellow sunlight filtering in through the trees. Once all of her senses became conscious, the girl staggered quickly to her feet. She frantically looked around, but in each direction there were only trees. She tried desperately to think of a solution- of anything- but most of her brain was still turned off from the shock of the events of the day before. No logical thoughts came, so the girl picked a direction at random and started walking.

As she walked, she tugged twigs and leaves from her wildly tangled hair. Fortunately she could now pick and choose each step, instead of dashing blindly through the woods. The ground was mostly pine needles fallen from the trees above, dirt, and neon sprouts of varied plants. The branches of the trees didn’t start until high above the girl’s head, and the only thing she had to watch out for was shrubs with thorns.

The walking was easy, even on battered feet. The forest floor was soft and cushioned. The girl liked to stop to stand in cool, green moss when patches of it appeared on the ground. But though the physicality of the trek was mostly painless and straightforward, the mentality was anything but. The girl was alone and had no idea where she was going. Perhaps her current path would take her deep into the woods, lost beyond return.

The girl couldn’t help but jump at every movement, be it a squirrel, bird, or branch swaying in the breeze. Once a herd of deer wandered into view, appearing nonchalant and unafraid of the human girl. She gave them a wide berth and never took her suspicious eyes off them, as if the innocent herbivores would charge her at any instant.

The girl walked for hours into the day, which became hot and dry. Intense hunger gnawed at her stomach and thirst at her parched throat. At the time the sun was at it’s highest position in the cloudless sky, the girl heard the trickle of a stream and stumbled eagerly toward it.

It was a small stream, only about the width of the girl’s height. The water ran fast and clear, and not a lot of plants were thriving in it. Assuming the water was safe to drink, the girl plunged her hands into it and then brought them eagerly to her dry mouth. The water had a strange metallic taste, but it was cold and refreshing so she gulped it down anyway.

When she was done drinking, the girl dipped her sore feet into the stream while she sat on the muddy bank. With her thirst quenched, hunger now took priority. The girl felt starved; she held her stomach and frowned.

To her knowledge, food could only be found in towns and cities, wherever people were. And this worried her. There was still a while before dark, so the girl set off again in search of civilization.

~ ~ ~

Not long after that, a new pain burrowed itself in the girl’s stomach. It was lower down than the pangs of hunger and much sharper. The pain worsened until the girl couldn't walk anymore. She keeled over, clutching her stomach. She grasped a tree with one hand and pulled her hair back with the other as she vomited. Though mostly clear liquid, the puke stung fiercely as it violently spurted through her nose and mouth. Tears slid down her face. When her little body could no longer bring up anything, she dry heaved painfully a few times.

Her stomach felt much better after that. Though hunger was still there, it seemed dull and wasn't that painful. After letting her body rest for a few minutes, the girl looked down at her blue shirt, which was wet with vomit and tears. She stripped it off and used the somewhat clean parts to blow her nose and dry her face. She tried to spit out the horrible taste of vomit, but no matter how many times she spat on the ground, the taste still lingered.

The girl walked away from the vomit site, leaving her soaked shirt behind.

~ ~ ~

The town the girl eventually stumbled upon was a bit bigger than her own. From the top of a tree at the top of a hill, she could see the full expanse of it. Excitement bubbled in her heart and she scrambled down the tall fir tree, not caring that it’s bark and pokey branches scraped her pale skin mercilessly. She swung down from the lowest branch and hit the needled ground with a light thud.

She sprinted west into the setting sun, the direction the town was in. All of her pain and hunger was washed away with hope. Somebody in this town would probably give her a good meal and then take her back to her mother.

But did she want to go back to her mother? She supposed that she did, for there was nowhere else to go.

~ ~ ~

A strange feeling came over the girl as she approached the town. While it looked warm and welcoming from afar, it now seemed depressed and even threatening. The girl tried to push away these thoughts, but something didn't seem quite right about this place.

The feeling became worse when the girl walked through somebody's field of corn. The stalks were browning and the corn was passed ripe. She picked one that didn't look too bad and bit into it tentatively. It was hard and warm in a not-so-good way, but it was moist and sweet. Saliva dribbled down her chin and onto her bare chest. The girl wasn't entirely sure if you could eat raw corn, but plenty of other vegetables were eaten raw, so she took the risk.

At the end of the corn field and near a small house, there was a pen of pigs. The girl had never seen pigs so thin. Pigs were supposed to be fattened up so that their meat was good, weren’t they? The girl leaned over the fence. One of the pigs, a black one, wandered up to her expectantly. She looked down at the corn in her hand. After only a moment of hesitation, she threw it to the pig. It practically pounced on the cob and devoured it. It's commotion woke the rest of the pigs and they started to snuffle around excitedly.

The girl wanted to feed them more, but was afraid that their owner would be angry at her for doing so.

So she walked passed the farm house and onto the streets of the town. She quickly reached the part of it with the densest population of buildings.

The streets were empty.

Nobody bustled around to shop or get to and from work or school.

It was completely eerie. The air seemed colder. The girl shivered.

After arguing with herself for a good while, the girl gathered up the courage to knock on someone's door. She chose one of the grander houses and rasped her tiny knuckles three times on the blue door.

Nobody answered. She knocked again. She couldn't even hear footsteps inside.

Puzzled, the girl moved on to the next house. Not only was nobody in it, but the front door was open and swinging gently on its hinges. She knocked on the open door. After a few awkward and silent moments, she entered the home.

The tile floor was cool and soothing on her bare feet. As she looked around the living room of the house, the girl got another bad feeling. Everything was jumbled around in a very disorderly way, as if a herd of children had played wildly in the room and nobody had bothered to clean up. Books were strewn across the floor, as a broken vase was shattered in one corner around shriveled flowers.

The kitchen was no better, if not worse. Dishes were smashed and the door of the refrigerator hung open like the front door. There was no food inside of it. The girl didn't have to go upstairs to know that the house was abandoned, but she did anyway.

Drawers that once held clothes were empty, and beds sat unmade. Toys and dolls lay on the floor, abandoned by their children.

The girl cried. She didn't know exactly why, but the tears wouldn't stop. She sat down on the floor of a child's bedroom. She found a large stuffed bear, and cuddled it until she cried herself to sleep once again.

For the first time in a long while, the girl awoke with the feelings of warmth and safety. She lay on a cold floor without a blanket, yet there was a strange fuzziness about. The girl opened her green eyes. She moved slightly, and felt pressure on her back. Startled, she struggled up. To her surprise, a big brown dog wiggled up with her. It was clearly excited to see the little human girl awake, and almost trampled her with big paws and slobbery licks. The dog’s tail wagged so fast that his whole body wiggled. The girl couldn’t help but giggle.

She knelt down and took the dog’s shaggy face in her tiny hands. He had deep brown eyes. She stared into them and he stared right back, his body suddenly still. An understanding flowed between them. The girl kissed the dog’s wet nose and stood up. The dog was a sandy brown color. He had big paws and long legs. His fur was ragged and matted. He was beautiful.

With her spirits immensely lifted, the girl set off again, and this time with a big dog on her heels.

The girl had searched three more houses for food. All she found was a can of black beans and four old onions. She had to smash the can of beans on the floor to open it. The wet beans slid all over the tile kitchen floor. The girl scooped them up in her hands and gobbled them down ravenously and messily. The dog sat politely back while the girl ate her fill, then licked up the remaining beans.

The dog, whom the girl had started to call ‘Fiance’ in her head, (she didn’t know what the word meant, but it sounded nice), stuck like glue to her side while she wandered throughout the town. He didn’t bark and he didn’t whine. The girl wondered how anyone could leave a dog like that behind.

And then he did bark. A loud, deep, thunderous bark that echoed through the streets of the empty town. The girl startled at the sound. She stared blankly at the dog as he pointed his shiny black nose to the left and slowly wagged his tail. He took a few steps in that direction then looked back at the girl. A few more steps. Once again he looked back expectantly. The girl started to follow, to Fiance’s delight. They came upon a pretty and quaint blue house. Unlike all of the others, it’s lawn was mowed and vines weren’t creeping up the sides.

The girl cautiously approached the door. She rasped her little knuckles on it softly. Then again, louder. Footsteps echoed from inside the house. The girl sucked in and held her breath. Fiance’s fat tail beat steadily against her leg. It seemed an eternity before the door swung open to reveal a tall, white-haired man.

The shock that displayed on his wrinkled old face was so great that the girl could have sworn she felt his intense stare boring into her brain.

“And here I thought I was the only soul left in this town,” the man said slowly, still eyeing the girl up and down in a way that made her feel very uncomfortable. The girl opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She tried again, but she couldn’t quite remember how to form the words, or even noise.

“Ah, I see,” said the man, nodding. “Don’t worry. It’ll come back soon enough,” he paused. “I suppose you should come in, then.”

The girl patted Fiance’s head, wordlessly asking if he could go in too.

“Is he a nice dog?” the man asked. The girl nodded vigorously. “Then I don’t see the harm.”

The girl followed the man into his home with the big dog padding after.

The house was plain and comfortable. The walls were pale shades of blue and yellow, and the furniture, too. Windows allowed plenty of light into the small living space and kitchen. It felt homey.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to eat,” the man said, motioning to the dining table. The girl sat. “Cereal?” he asked, opening a wooden cupboard. The girl nodded, a sudden wave of hunger twisting in her stomach. The man poured a generous amount of wheat cereal into a bowl and set it in front of his tiny guest. “My name is Eugene, by the way.”

Eugene watched as the girl scarfed down her cereal. Fiance had settled himself under the table at her feet, and clearly expected some leftovers. The girl left the remaining milk in the bowl and set it down on the floor for the big dog. He lapped it up greedily.

Sensing that the old man was watching her every move, the girl self-consciously cleared her throat and turned to face him.

“What is your name, girl?” he asked. The girl, besides her current inability to speak, found that she couldn’t answer. What

her name? Such a simple question, and yet the girl had no answer. She gave a confused look at Eugene and shrugged.

“You don’t have one?” he asked, a bit puzzled. The girl shook her head in confirmation. It was clear to her now, she did not have a name. There used to be one, but it seemed to have faded away. “That is interesting, indeed. Well, I shall have to call you something.” Eugene scratched his chin and thought.

“How about Sarah?” the girl scrunched up her face. “Hmm. Poppy? Evangeline? Amelia?” The girl shook her head to each suggestion. “Ah, I know!” exclaimed Eugene, a delighted twinkle in his eyes. “What do you think of Fauve?”

The girl stared back at him blankly.

. The name seemed to fit in a way the others did not.

“It means, quite literally, wild,” Eugene elaborated. “And I sense that, if you haven’t already, you’ll live up to that definition.”

The girl, now called Fauve, nodded. She smiled at him, thankful for his hospitality and the name. He gave a small smile back, though it faded rather quickly.

“I hate to be rude, dear Fauve, but I feel the need to point out that you’re dirty and I can count every one of your ribs,” Eugene said. Fauve looked down at her own tiny body. “In addition, your hair is completely matted and you appear to be missing shoes and a shirt; unless I’ve been living under a rock, that’s not socially appropriate.”

Eugene showed Fauve to a mirror in the bathroom. The tiny girl gaped at her reflection. Everything the old man had said was true. She ran her fingers that ended in dirt encrusted nails down her chest and stomach. Her belly was concave at the end of her prominent ribs. She hadn’t eaten well for weeks and hardly at all in the last few days.

Her denim shorts were ripped and filthy. Her legs and feet were thoroughly covered in scrapes and scratches, though none had bled too badly.

She frowned at her own face, an ugly sight. She had tired eyes and cracked lips. Her freckles couldn’t be told apart from dirt. She did not look forward to brushing her hair.

“I will leave you to clean yourself up,” said Eugene from behind. He showed her how to work the shower and where soap and hairbrush was. “I will wash your clothes and bring you something to sleep in, though it will be no nightgown.

Fauve nodded. She stripped off her shorts when he left and set them outside the door. She climbed into the shower and let the warm water stream over her weary body. She scrubbed every inch with soap before addressing her mess of hair. First Fauve washed it with shampoo, then squirted out half a bottle of detangler onto her head. It helped, though not as much as she would have liked.

After toweling off, Fauve put on her freshly washed underwear and a big T-shirt dropped off by Eugene. The shirt almost grazed the floor as she walked, but at least it was clean.

She picked up the hairbrush and tried to run it through her knots of red hair. Every other stroke was painful and it was all the little girl could do not to cry. She tried to remember the last time she had brushed it. She couldn’t, so it must’ve been a long time.

Eugene took his guest to his spare room at the back of the house. The bed was only a fold-out couch, but it sure did beat the scratchy trunk of a tree. She changed into the giant man-sized shirt the old man had given her. She climbed into the couch bed and invited Fiance the dog to join her. Fauve’s sleep was deep and dreamless; a beautiful luxury compared to the previous nights, both in the woods and her own home.

~ ~ ~

Eugene's house was not home. It was comfortable and the girl enjoyed resting with the dog by the fire, but her heart longed for something else. She needed to leave, but where was there to go? If she knew how to find her old town she would have left already.

Eugene was kind to Fauve, but he did not want her to stay, either. He was an old man, and when his food ran out it would be his end. That was his plan since the rest of them left. He would not die for a stranger's cause, he would die in his own home, on his own terms.

Eugene was glad to share his rations with the girl, but he did not know how she would survive when they were gone. Hard as it would be, he must tell her to leave. He would tell her to back where she came from, if she could. If not, a decent sized city was a few days walk down the big road. Someone there would help her. He could even give her his neighbor’s horse to speed up the travel.

Eugene packed up half of his remaining food. Water would be harder for Fauve to take on her walk, though a couple flasks might be enough. He also filled a sack with blankets and clothes. He was not looking forward to watching the girl walk away without him.

~ ~ ~

When Eugene told Fauve that she must leave, it felt as if a breath she had been holding was released. The decision was made for her.

She left two mornings after. Eugene offered her a horse, but Fauve did not know how to ride. Instead she took a dark brown pony to carry her supplies. Holding its lead rope she looked toward the rising sun, glowing above the road she was about to take.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked back at Eugene. He offered a smile, but his tired eyes gave away his sadness. Fauve dropped the pony's lead and ran into the old man's arms. It was their only true contact in the days they had lived together. Fauve buried her tear-streaked face in the man's worn shirt. He was so warm and soft and gentle. Eugene wrapped his arms around the tiny girl. She reminded him of someone.

Fauve felt something grow inside her. She choked down the lump in her throat and whispered,

"Thank you."

With oversized clothes and a dog at her side, the girl whose name was Fauve started down a long road.