Maud tried to steady her hands even before Alden came into the room with the bucket of warm water from the hearth. She didn’t want him to see. She didn’t want him to notice that she was barely able to grip the knife as she lifted her mother’s dress away as far as she could stretch the thick fabric weaves. She didn’t want him to know that it was because she was afraid of accidentally nicking her with the tip because it was practically whirling through the air ahead of her cutting. She didn’t want him to see that she was leaning on her elbow and using it to keep her arm as steady as possible. Even with the blade turned upward, she knew that if she got too close, it would only add to whatever breaks Aurie already had in her skin. She had to see where the blood was coming from that had soaked through in so many places across her chest and stomach.

  She sent him again and again to get things. ‘Get cloths, a lot of them.’ ‘I need pa’s strongest spirits. The vodka.’ ‘The water is getting cold. Warm some more and bring it to me.’ He needed to be out of the room. He needed to not see how much they hurt them, how much their uncle had hurt them. But she needed him there with her as much as possible. She needed him, even if it was only to be on the other side of the bed, standing dumbfounded and on the verge of panic in the doorway, she needed to know he was still there.

  Maud cut as fine a line as she could down the side of her mother’s dress and lifted it with a wince. The blood had congealed and was sticking to her skin, pulling small threads from the fabric. She eyed where Alden was. He stood at the bedroom doorway, taking glances back to the hearth every so often to keep watch for the water to boil. She was certain he was far enough away as she folded the dress back from Aurie’s side and belly. She wet a cloth and brought it dripping to wipe at the dried and syrupy blood, beginning with her hip.

  Smooth pale skin emerged from beneath dark crimson that pulled away in flakes from the edges and like watery sap as she got closer to the center of it. Her brows pressed together. Where is it coming from? There’s no break in the skin, no gash, no cut. And she had seen what they did, watched it from the front door as Alden held her back. They had kicked her over and over, front and back, just as they did Pa. So, none of the blood that had soaked through their clothes was from their attackers. None of it belonged to their uncle. The thicker the blood was as she wiped further into it, the more often she had to dip the cloth in water and wring it with all her shaky strength, the more she cursed him. The more she hated him. All of them. And she could never wring the cloth out enough to stop it from dripping and splashing the water everywhere. Not that it really mattered, Maud tried to reassure herself, but she couldn’t help being conscious of how soaked their mattress was becoming.

  She listened to Aurie’s breathing, eyed how her father’s chest and stomach lifted and fell. She had smiled a little when she saw that they had passed out instead of dying when she first got into the room after Offla left. A part of her felt bad for not rushing in after him, rushing to start this that very moment, but she had been…stunned. Everything had happened so fast. Too fast. The torches, the villagers, the way her father and mother had hit the ground in a flash of swinging limbs. The offlander’s charge that drove them off while they were beating them nearly to death. Death, had it not been for him. Barefoot and barebacked charge like a silent madman. How their breathing was as steady as normal had her shaking uncontrollably. Is this what it is like right before your body finally stops? Steady and calm? Maud blinked the blurriness of tears from her eyes, focusing. There must be something here for that much blood, she kept thinking.

  “Water’s boiling,” Alden said so Maud could pull Aurie’s cut dress to cover her before he came to get the bloodied water from beside her. “Be back.”

  Maud sat back on her haunches and ran her dripping wrist across her forehead. This was too much. She’s never done stitches before. The closest she ever came to it was helping push the skin together on pa’s leg once when he had accidentally cut himself on the plow when it got stuck under a rock. Ma did the stitching. Not her. She tried to think. The hook needle. That was what she used, right? Definitely not the embroidery needle. Or was it the embroidery needle? Did she pinch the skin? How close did they need to be? Did they have to wrap it after? She couldn’t remember. They dropped. They just dropped to the ground like tossed laundry. Crumples of skin and cloth, vibrating with every kick. Their screams, muffled by lungs that couldn’t draw breath. White thread or the brown? Black thread? The blur of the horse’s thunderous hooves blasting past them…

  “It was boiling,” Alden said as he set the new bucket beside her. “Should I put cool water in it?”

  “No, no,” Maud tried to take a deep breath to break the rapidity of her shallow ones. “Did you find the vodka?”

  “Oh, shit, right!” And Alden was off again.

  Maud folded the dress back and grabbed another cloth from the pile beside her. The steam rolling out of the bucket made her hesitate, but then, what would another burn really matter? It would burn her too, you nitwit. She huffed. Too long. This is taking too long! I’m taking too long. She dunked a fistful of cloth into the bucket with a hiss and drew it out to drip over the bucket. Drops bounced in all directions from between and around her fingers. Her entire body was shaking. Her hands were feathers held in a windstorm.

  Probably cold enough now, she thought, watching for any changes in their breathing again. Still the same. She began wiping at the blood again. Nothing…nothing…nothing…she felt a very small change in the skin and wiped a little slower. This must be it, she leaned closer. And she stopped wiping.

  A group of scars, like those left on Dalfur’s arms and legs from when he broke them and the bone punctured through, were over her ribs. There were so many, but they were old. But weren’t. Healed. Not worn by years of fading, yet they weren’t newly formed. Maud’s trembling caused her to drop the cloth with a splash on Aurie’s stomach. They were new. Those scars weren’t there before. She knew they weren’t there before. Yet, there they were. Small, slight discolorations in the skin that were ever so slightly smoother. And they were where the blood was thickest. Syrupy. Congealed. Her fingers vibrated against her mother’s skin as she slid them across the scars.

  She began wiping the blood away again. She was confused. That was it. With everything, she was just bewildered and seeing things. The blood was gone. No open wounds. Nothing but those scars. She tore the dress to uncover further up and wash away what was there. The same. A few more scars. Bruising, dark brown here and yellow there, black where their feet had hit the hardest, but no broken skin, no broken bones. Only healed, nearly invisible scars.

  The tears and sweat blinded her. She wiped frantically at them with the cloth in her hands and searched for more. There had been so much. The blood was thick! She scrubbed. She pulled Aurie’s arm from its sleeve, blood…black and brown bruise…swelling lump the size of her fist…scar. She wiped Aurie’s face. Her swollen, battered, bruised, bloodied face. Bruising, swelling, scars. Bald line through her eyebrow on that side. Her lip, Aurie blinked as she pulled the cloth across its thickness with a press to keep it as stationary as possible. The break in her swollen lip wasn’t a break. It was barely a scar.

  It was Alden clearing his throat from the doorway, half turned away, that made her realize she was on the bed with one leg, hovering over her uncovered mother, staring. She quickly pulled her dress over her and slid off.

  “Is she okay?”

  Maud flopped to beside the bucket with a splash of jumping water, her head shaking as uncontrollably as the rest of her. All she could do was look at him from where her knees had given out.

  “Maud?” He leapt. “Is ma…?”

  “She’s…” Maud grabbed him before he, too, climbed onto the bed as she was to look closer in panic. “She’s okay. There’s no open wounds. Check pa while I put more water on.”

  Slowly, wobbling, Alden helped her on her feet. She pulled the blanket to cover Aurie to her chin and grabbed the cloths while Alden lifted the bucket to the other side of the bed. Alden gave her a worried, confused look.

  “Wherever there’s blood, you need to clean. Cut his clothes off to get to it, if you need to. Start where it’s thickest. If you find anything, just cover up his…you know…before you call for me.” Maud squeezed his arm to steady him, “You’ll do fine.”

  He nodded. She handed him a cloth with a warm grin and went for the kitchen. It wasn’t long before Alden sat himself at the table and stared blankly at where his bowl would normally have been, blinking.

  “I don’t understand, there was so much blood. So much blood,” he met her gaze when she turned to him, gaping. “It was…horrible.”

  Maybe the blood had all been pa’s.

  “Only,” his eyes turned back to the table, his head rocking, “there was nothing there. Nothing! Not even a scratch. Where did the blood come from?”

  “I don’t know,” Maud sat beside him and put her arm around him, pulling his head into her chest. “I don’t know. Ma is the same.”

  “Means they’ll be fine, right? That everything will be alright after this?”

  “It means that we have to keep an eye on them to be sure until they wake up.” She softly raked her fingers through his thick red hair and tipped her head to see his eyes, “You got all of it, right?” He nodded, staring blankly. “You still hungry?”

  He nodded. And then he twisted and wrapped his arms around her as tears burst from his eyes. “Why is this happening to us, Maud? Why did they do this to us? I’m so scared. Maman, papa, why? What did we ever do to them? Uncle Balian…I don’t…I don’t…understand.”

  She sucked wetness back into her nose and tightened her arms around him, shaking her head as her own tears spilled from burning eyes. She stared at the fire in the hearth, resting her cheek on the top of his head as he trembled in her arms enough that she couldn’t tell which was him and which was her own. The offlander flying past them in explosions of mud and water, his sword out like a beam of moonlight behind him. The lightning-fast punch to pa’s face. The way they had swarmed them, kicked them. Hate. That was all it was. Nothing they did justified that kind of hate. It was wrong.

  Once he finally pulled away from her and they both wiped their teary eyes, Maud got up and peeked at Aurie and Balor. Still breathing as peacefully as ever. Alden curled on his bed for a moment, gripping his stuffed bear tight against him, then stuffed it into his trousers so its head and arms with their little fuzzy claws peeked over the top his belt before reaching for pa’s spear beside the hearth.

  “What are you doing?” Maud had to cradled her armful of wet cloths to her chest to keep from dropping them. Alden had always been the wet nosed ball of curiosity and dirt to her. Plump cheeks, soft hands, and a smile that had known no wrongs. But he was stone-faced. Numb and hardened. For the first time, she saw the muscles in those arms, thick and tense, as his long and thick fingers gripped the spear that was taller than him by nearly a meter. Its iron tip glistened with the same fire from the hearth that reflected from his eyes. The blood on his shirt, the smears of dirt and stains. Even his neck seemed thicker, his cheeks not as plump. She staggered to keep on her feet as she rushed to him, letting the cloths tumble to the ground. He was a man. Even with that stuffed bear peeking from over the top of his trousers with paws spread wide for a hug, this was a man ready to defend his family.

  “You’re not going out there, you’re not doing this!” She grabbed his face. “Don’t you even think about it!”

  “I can’t let anything else happen to us,” His eyes, those green eyes spilling with tears, were still the child’s. “I have to stop them if they come again so you can get away.” His voice trembled and cracked. There was no coldness there, he wasn’t numb or hardened. He was terrified. She pulled him into a tight hug.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “If they come, I have to…I have to…I have to make sure you can get to Offla’s. Protect ma and pa until he gets here again,” Alden’s tears soaked her shoulder.

  Maud wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wanted to make him put the spear down and just curl up in the bed and cry with her, but she knew he was right. If they came back, he was the only one left who could protect her. If only he would be enough. And that only made her cling to him harder. “We’ll put the table against the door and keep watch through the windows. Both of us, okay?” It was the best she could come up with. How much did they have to lose? Her brother, too? Why didn’t the offlander just stay? They weren’t safe. He must have seen that. Flood or no, they weren’t safe.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

  “They’re still asleep,” Maud yawned as she stepped out of their room, holding a candle carefully between her hands. She had it tipped forward to make sure the wax dripped on the floor rather than her fingers. Given the situation, a few splotches on the floor probably won’t be noticed. She set the candle holder on the table and stretched her arms above her head with an arch.

  “You can sleep in my bed, you know,” Alden said from the loft window, sitting on her bed with his shoulder leaning sideways against the wall. He had one elbow on the window ledge with his chin resting on his arm bent across his knees. The spear was leaning on the wall where it met the beams of the roof and the crook of his elbow. Every so often, he would reach for it, brush his fingers up the wooden shaft and then replace his hand on the ledge to lean just far enough for him to see the village.

  Maud slid onto the table and propped one foot on the chair closest. The table was heavier than either of them had expected. Who knew wood was that heavy? It scraped the floor and caught on nearly every board on the way, but they had wedged it against the door and even hugged after. They had pulled only their chairs to it and had some stew. And some beer. Why not? Maud had shrugged all the ‘propriety’ away. Might as well. If her brother was going to protect her like a man, he deserved to have warm beer like one. After how loud moving the table was, especially scraping the floor the way it did, and never woke ma, then they truly were alone in this. If there is a fight to come, her brother would prove himself to be the bravest man she will ever meet and she wanted him to know that, whether it happened or not. She hoped not. She never felt more proud or scared in her life. Somehow, they both weighed equally.

  They put one chair under the other window, so she could climb into the garden if they got attacked. The other two were left in front of the hearth. She had meant it for when Alden calmed enough to come down from her bed and maybe sit with her in front of the fire, but he hadn’t moved since he went up there except to adjust how he was sitting. For a time, he was on his knees, his muddy feet across her bed. He adjusted himself to leaning against the one wall with his legs stretched out. Then, he pulled his knees up and periodically let one down. His head was always on that side of the window, looking out toward the village. Apart from the few, and they were very few, times that he looked to see what she was doing below, his head remained there.

  She leaned back on her hands and wrinkled her nose, “Gross. I’m still trying to unlearn what you do in it when you think everyone’s asleep.”

  “What?” He whipped his head to her, leaning a little toward the ladder. Even in the candlelight, casting shadows that danced across his face, she could see the reddening of his freckles.

  “Oh, please don’t tell me you thought…”

  “How could it get worse? I’ve been asking myself all night,” He turned back to the window.

  Maud laughed, rocking a little. It was the waiting that was getting to her. Normally, she would find something, anything, to do that would make her fly away in one of her dreams or give her something else to think about. Or sleep. But none of that mattered anymore. Dreams? Why bother? They meant nothing when everything could be beaten and burned down on top of them. Clean something? Again, why bother? The spills from carrying the bowls to the table were now dried splotches on the floor where the table had been.

  “At least you’re not as loud as you know who…” She knew he wasn’t looking but still felt a need to point a thumb over her side at the bedroom door.

  “Still,” Alden started to laugh, tucking his face into his arm. “I wish you didn’t know that. I can't. This is beyond not fair.”

  Maud let herself fall onto her back on the table, not caring that her hair became wet from spilt stew she hadn’t wiped up from there too. “My bed is right above yours. You make the whole house shake more than I do.”

  “Oh, come on, Maud, I could die today!” She couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying or both.

  “I don’t think so,” Maud took the opportunity with a smile. She lifted her hands into the air and watched the hearth light sway around her hands and between her fingers. “With that right arm of yours, they won’t stand a chance.”

  He cackled. Laughing it was. “Sorry.”

  Silence filled the air, thickened by the crackle of the hearth fire. She traced the lines of her palm, reminding herself of the way the blood had felt, like sticky mud. Swollen skin. Syrupy blood. She threw herself upright and tapped her fingers on the wood. She looked around her, eyeing everything. She needed to do something. Anything. She decided that she could begin by cleaning her spills when cold and wet strands of her hair touched her ear. She grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the water bucket that had already been moved to the hook beside the hearth. It was still warm but not boiling.

  She scrubbed. She scrubbed the floor. She scrubbed the table. Scrubbed the floor again. The table again. She returned to the floor. There was still something on the wood board. She hadn’t left it that long. She could feel the dried broth, she had to get it. She locked her elbow to put all her weight into it. She had to scrub it all away. Black flakes of blood. The rain and mud. The gut-wrenching thud of flesh being kicked. Shaky hands and stew drops. Wax. She scrubbed harder. Sticky rough wood. Sticky black mud. Sticky blood. And she collapsed.

  She could smell it, there was a coppery taste in her mouth from the blood she had smeared on her face with the cloth, could feel each impact as if it had been her and not their parents being beaten, her skin felt cold and wet. And sticky. She wanted to claw it away. Scrape it off of her with raking nails, skin and all, if it would make this day never happen. Her eyes burned, her nose clogged, her cheeks tightened. She dragged the cloth to her mouth to muffle her scream.

  “Maud,” Alden’s arms lifted her. She crumbled into him, biting hard on the cloth. “We’ll be alright. I know it. Offla is going to keep us safe. He’ll be back soon, I know it.”

  No, he won’t. She shook, her entire body jerking with every labored breath between explosions of tears. How could he actually believe they will ever be safe again? They will never be safe. Nothing was safe. Nowhere is safe. This is supposed to be where they’re safe. This is their home. Their family. Pa can’t keep them safe. If pa can’t, then how could Alden? And she knew he would try. With all his might, he would try. And their own uncle, their own family, would kill him for it.

  “Maybe,” Alden lifted her on his lap and began rocking her. “Maybe you should go there.”

  “Where? Why?” She had never heard her voice pitch and shriek that way before. She tried to draw breath, but it was like trying to drink dirt.

  “You should go to the Offlander’s so he can keep you safe there. I’ll be fine, I’ll protect ma and pa until you and him come back to get us.”

  “Are you insane?” Maud wanted to slap him but could only raise her shaky hands while she cried. “They’re going to kill us, Alden! And there’s nothing we can do. Just…just…wait. And I can’t. I can’t.”

  He lifted her into a tighter embrace, rocking her more. “We can. We are. It’s alright, Maud. You go to him. You don’t have to be here.”

  “No,” she could feel her heart beating out of her chest. Her lungs were aching vices. “I’m…not…leaving.”

  “Go,” Alden rocked her forward and turned her face with rough hands on her cheeks. His face was hardened, like pa’s when he truly wanted something to be done. She felt her lungs open as a deep breath filled them. His eyes darted between hers in the firelight, “Go and get him. Convince him to take us from here. We’ll use the cart to carry ma and pa.”

  “I can’t,” Maud’s lashes sprayed water like she was trying to hold them in her hands. “I can’t go out there without you. I can’t. They’ll…”

  “They haven’t crossed the stream,” Alden brushed hair from her face. “I don’t think they can. But even if they can, you can run. You’ve always been fast. Or use the woods.”

  “What good would any of that do?” The shaking in her hands was nothing compared to the rest of her. He cradled her so tightly, so warmly, against him. She was able to take another breath.

  “You can get there without them seeing. Find out what is taking him so long. Maybe it’s just that his ankle needs to be wrapped again and he needs help with stuff. Or maybe he doesn’t know that pa still hasn’t woken up. Either way, I can stay and keep watch while you go. And you’ll be close enough to hear me if I shout.”

  Maud nodded. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “What if he doesn’t want to come? What if he thinks he’s done enough?”

  Alden smiled, green eyes twinkling, “Like any man can resist when a Clevlan woman tells them to do something.”

  Maud choked a teary-eyed chuckle. “I guess I’d be the one, then.”

  “And,” his voice darkened as his arms tightened around her, “at least then I’d know you were actually safe.”

  She leaned to look at him. He looked aside for a blink and then back. She could see the slight tremble in his lips, the glistening of his eyes, the creases on his youthful brow from the weight that had been laid on his shoulders. He wasn’t asking her to go and see anything. He was asking her to willingly leave and survive.

  “No,” she shook her head at him. “I can’t leave you.”

  “If they don’t wake up…”

  “Then we know then what we need to do.”

  “Maud, if they don’t wake up, it doesn’t matter if they come. We can’t carry them.”

  “We’ll use the cart, like you said,” Maud twisted to face him. “We’ll carry them onto the cart. Together. I’m not going to just leave you, Alden.”

  “Maud,” Alden shook at her, “the cart isn’t big enough for both of them.”

  Her head lolled, her eyes becoming heavier with a suddenness that made her reel. “No. No. There’s enough room, we could…” But he was right. It wasn’t big enough for both of them. Maybe if they just waited a little longer…

  “If they come back, they’ll kill all of us. But if you go to him,” he took in a breath. He didn’t need to say another word, she already knew.

  “Then it should be you,” She tried to hold them back, but the tears were unstoppable. She tried to be stronger, but her heart was in tatters.

  Alden shook his head jerkily, his own tears filling his cheeks. “Go, Maud. Maybe they won’t come and you’ll bring him back and we all can escape. But if they do, then…” His eyes were overflowing and his face squished before her eyes, “Then I know you’re safe.”

  “I’m safe with you.”

  Alden smiled like he wanted to laugh, “You really believe that?”

  “I do,” Maud nodded shakily.

  Alden’s squished, tearful smile widened, “I don’t.” The smile wasn’t a smile. It was a plea. “And I don’t want to take the chance that, for once in our lives, I’m right and you’re wrong. Please, go get Offla, Maud, I beg you. I’m so scared, but I can’t go with you or I would. I have to fight if they come. You can’t. You have to be the one to go. I have to protect ma and pa, you need to be safe so I can do that. Please, go.”

  “I can’t…”

  “Go, Maud. You need to go.”

  She threw her arms around him and tucked her cheek into his chest. “I’m scared, too,” she pulled at his shirt. “I love you, little brother.”

  “I love you, too, big sister.”