Sapphic Voices Fantasy

A Shepherd's Tale

Part Two

The following Story is a shepherd’s tale, hence the title there’s a little violence, and a little star grabbing (sex) but its over-all a very cute Story, that’s just the way we do things on my little island New Avalon-I mean we’re all terribly cute. Really. This Story is about one of our heroes of the great war and her hometown Chocolate Bayou.
I’d like to thank my dear wife Anhelica, and all my mates (those clever little witches) at the University of Her Sovereign Majesty of the Fiery Heart.
This Story is dedicated also to those long gone, those forgotten, those far from forgotten, those missing from our lives for now or forever…to the faithfully departed, the candle is always lit in our hearts.

Blessed Be.
E.A.B

Part Two:
The Occupation of Chocolate Bayou

Chapter four: Crounstep

By noon the next morning the head of each household was gathered in the Lucky Ram, the walls were lined with Crouns soldiers armed with their guns, the quarters were very close, and there was plenty of anger generating.

Skip prowled close to Flighty as she translated the new rules under the Crouns occupation, there was a large portrait hung over the hearth in the place of the buck horns, it was of Her Empress-Furher Enstah Walker, she looked a lot like Flighty, those same green eyes.

“There is to be a curfew at night, beginning after dusk, anyone out past this will be punished…”

She feared for her friend the men were suspicious, but she, Patty, and Lillie took up for her.

Patty made it known that they were sweethearts that Skip would never side against her people. Since the hind incident though she did not have much credibility, but still the men were satisfied.

Flighty continued with the rules, this had been the Commander’s idea though she spoke their language she had to implicate her sister in some way.

“The island of New Avalon is hereby occupied by the authority of Crousten anyone interfering with the authority of Her Empress will be punished.”

“What does that mean?” Pendleson whispered to Doc Hawthorn.

“It means lie down and don’t give ‘em any guff,” The Doc said.

The Commander continued, and Flighty translated.
“The price of wool will be lowered fifty cents; all trade and import with Amertia and its allies is hereby discontinued, all wool with be sold to Crounsten at the new price.”

“Bloody rip,” Amoschild spoke up, “Now the rest of you can let this wild bitch come and tell you what to do and how but not me.”

“Pardon?” the Commander asked.

Flighty paled looking at Skip for support.

A murmur rippled through the crowd and Amoschild’s eyes darted wildly, the fool had not counted on her knowing their language.

“Arrest that man,” she said, “Have him flogged and butcher ten of his sheep.”

There was a short scuffle as he flailed his fists at the men trying to fight, his brother in law Fisherson tried to help the both of them were caught and dragged out of the tavern.

“I know your people are peaceful, you should pride yourselves,” the Commander said to the remaining citizens, “It is much easier to die fighting than to survive, to except your place and be humble, to follow the rules. We are not at war with New Avalon, it is Amertia who stole your boys, the ones that we hate, with your help Crounsten can make a better life for your island under the rule of the Empress Furher.”

With that she stood straight, the soldiers did too saluting then lining up outside the tavern they marched down the street in perfect rows, chanting in their language, they kept their legs stiff extending them out, lifting their heels in an arc. It looked very impressive to Skip and she could see that other people watched their eyes somber, awe pulling at the corners of their mouths.

She went to Flighty’s side,
“She has her example,” Flighty said of her sister, “I am so sorry.”

“Amoschild will be alright,” Skip said, “Let’s get out of here, we have to go to pasture.”

Outside the crowd was slowly dispersing they went to their horses.

“I don’t rightly feel like it Skip,” Flighty said, “Would you go for a ride with me? Just around?”

“Alright,” she agreed, “What is it?”

“I don’t trust Anhke, I feel like she will hurt you just to hurt me,” she said, “I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

Skip smiled,
“Nothing’s going to happen,” she said as they began up White Stone road, a few of the cars rolled past.

The Commander had set up just beyond town in the pastures just north of Shepherd’s point.
“How about some music?” Skip asked removing her fiddle case from the saddle- bag.

Flighty brightened,
“Just a bit.”

Skip played for her as they rode along, Flighty leading the way they rode over Chocolate Bayou, and nearly out of town.

“Where we going?” she asked.

“Away for awhile,” Flighty smiled, “Keep playing, won’t you Skip.”

“Sure,” she said.

Her friend finally stopped in Strawberry meadow, Skip blushed furiously, the spot was a known meeting place for lovers.

“We could leave, Skip,” Flighty said, “We could ride away from here, I’ve thought about it since last night, I could put on a uniform and leave this island.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said, “You’re more a citizen here than I am.”

Flighty sat in the grass, Skip stretched out next to her, the horses wandered on grazing.
“I fear things will get worse,” she said softly, “This has been a very aggressive war, many people have died, Crounsten and Amertia both hide the numbers but there are many.”

She lay down next to Skip and pulled closer.
“What is it like being such an officer?” she asked, “Did you Command a lot of soldiers?”

Flighty laughed,
“Curious Skip,” she commented, “Yes, but what I liked best were the marches, my mother came up with the idea of having these great parades every week in different cities, and I got to lead them.”

“Really?” she asked, “You? Short little Flighty?”

“Yes, I was quite good,” she said.

“Well show me,” Skip pleaded.

Flighty stood and looked around suspiciously,
“For you Skip,” she said straightening and saluting, she grinned broadly and began to march the stiff legged march, she made a couple of paces away then turned and came back.

“What is it that they are saying?” Skip asked.

“I’m counting,” Flighty smiled wryly, “Sish, Ni, Ka, Lem…one, two, three, four.”

Skip laughed,
“They say it with such purpose though.”

Flighty shrugged and began to march again,
“Sish, ni, ka, lem,” she chanted, “Sish, ni, ka, lem.”

Skip giggled, feeling giddy all of a sudden she sat in the grass laughing until her sides ached.

Flighty just kept right on, she was so short, and adorable in her baggies, and her face took on a very serious expression which made Skip laugh harder.

“Flighty Walkerson, Skip Fairchild,” Patty had arrived beyond they could see Toothy trotting towards the other horses,
“St. Elton save us,” she said, “What are you two doing out here?”

Flighty froze, and Skip wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

“Do you think this is some sort of game?” Patty asked, “I just convinced a bunch of very drunk men not to slaughter all your sheep, Flighty.”

Skip stood,
“Aww we were just fooling.”

“Well you picked the right time,” she answered sarcastically, “Just be glad I ain’t young Hawthornson and Carrolson all up on blacksap.”

“I’m sorry Patty,” Flighty looked away.

Patty sighed,
“C’mon you two Rita’s roasted the biggest turkey you’ve ever seen, and she’s invited you for supper.”

They gathered their horses and rode off to Patty’s where Rita stuffed them full of turkey and pepper jam, bread and veggies.

“You know there was a bludgeoning last night, over at the Waterchild place,” Lillie said after dinner as they sat around the fire,
“Sheep this time, heard someone say it was the Crouns all along.”

Skip shivered and felt Flighty’s hand close around her own.

“Fools,” Gertie grumbled, Baby Lenny asleep on her ample bosom, “Next they’ll be burning witches.”

“Could be a scare tactic,” Patty said, “Make us all afraid of our own shadows. Play on our suspicions.”

Lillie laughed,
“Or it could be a bloody hind you fool.”

“Or just a wolf,” Flighty spoke up.

“You’d know wouldn’t you Flighty?” Patty asked.

“How could she?” Lillie asked.

“I don’t,” Flighty said, “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Skip spoke up,
“Just because she’s Crounsten doesn’t mean she knows all their secrets.”

Lillie sighed,
“Calm yourself girl, we’re all friends here,” she yawned and stretched, “I suggest we all get home before dark, and get a good rest, tomorrow we see about grazing our sheep.”

There was a knock on the door, Patty stood and called,
“Who is it?”

“Carrolson.”

She opened the door and he stepped in looking around cautiously, he saw Flighty and narrowed his eyes.

“No one’s radio will work no more,” he said, “They’ve jammed the signals.”

“Rot,” Patty cursed, “No phones. No radios.”

“They’ve cut us off alright,” Carrolson said, “But Mayor Starkschild told us about an old wire, Pendleson’s the only one can work it, he telegraphed Affinity point he took a breath, and then another.

“Rest yourself,” Rita said bringing him a cup of water.

“No time,” he said still out of breath, “They got a message, Bitty McPherson’s assassinated.”

“What?” Lillie asked, “You sure?”

“The end of the wire is at the university there, and that’s the message we got back, she was killed last week, shot down in the streets,” he shook his head, “Those Crouns bastards have gone too far.”

Skip sat there, numb, she drew her hand away from Flighty’s she didn’t realize she was doing it until her hand was tucked beneath her other hand on her lap. She felt a hand on her shoulder it was Gertie. She was saying something but Skip did not hear, she could only hear Bitty laughing softly and whispering in her ear as she touched her, calling her a sweet, sweet shepherd girl.

Carrolson left quickly proud of his task of carrying news from house to house.

“I must go now,” Skip said standing.

“What?” Lillie asked, “I can’t hear you girl.”

She did not repeat herself only walked towards the door, Flighty caught her arm, she turned but did not see her, she only saw Bitty.

“Alone,” she said, “I’ll go alone.”

Outside she could see the bloody red and white tower, The Crouns, they had been building it right there under their noses the whole time.

She went home and walked into the ring, she sat there among the sheep with her fiddle playing for Bitty McPherson now one of the faithfully departed.

~ e. a. b. ~

The little runt woke her up the next morning she had brought her into the house to keep her close by.

Skip groomed her self then fed the lammie and went out, Flighty was standing there waiting for her to come out.

“I’m sorry for Bitty,” she said in greeting.

“Wasn’t your fault, you didn’t kill her,” Skip said, “Why would I blame you?”

“I’m just sorry is all,” Flighty said.

She began to saddle Lightning tears stinging her eyes.

“You cared for her more than you let on, she was a kind and lovely woman,” Flighty said.

“Well she’s gone, long gone,” Skip tightened the saddle’s belt and sighed, she grabbed the reigns and walked over to the ring gate.

“On lammies” she said as Sophie trotted out to greet her.

“Skip,” Flighty said, “We could honor her, tonight if you’d like, you could say good-bye.”

“No thanks,” Skip said, “I’d rather forget her.”

“Would you forget me too?” Flighty asked, “Would you just say she was only a Crouns anyway,”
Skip mounted Lightning ignoring her,

“I got work to do,” she said simply.

Flighty sighed,
“There was another bludgeoning last night, got Amoschild’s rams…”

Skip nodded dumbly it was out there, the hind, fueled by the fears of the people of New Avalon fueled by their enemy.

She drove the sheep out to pasture, not bothering to check them for rat bites or ticks, it wouldn’t matter once the hind got them.

At noon she did not go to Shepherd’s point, she sat dozing in the grass humming to herself, the runt in her lap. Lately it felt like she should enjoy the nice days, she wished Flighty was there with her.

“Hey Skip,” Patty called as she rode up, Lillie behind her,
“Where’s Walkerson?”

“I thought she’d be with you,” Skip said.

“Nope,” Lillie said, “Let’s all go check on her then.”

They took the road to get on quicker, the friends found Flighty sitting in the grass playing her great horn.

“Flighty Walkerson you fool,” Lillie laughed seeing her.

She grinned back especially at Skip.
“Blessed be-blessed be” Flighty said.

“Well while we’re all here let’s have some songs,” Patty said.

“Sounds right to me,” Skip said.

They played a set, forgetting for a moment that New Avalon was occupied, that Bitty McPherson the great orator and lover was dead.

When they were done Skip lingered though Lillie and Patty readied to go on to pasture.

“Well,” Patty said with a wink to Lillie, “Let’s get ourselves on, I think they want to be alone.”

“Well bug me,” Lillie said with a crass smile, “Let us get then.”

Flighty waved them good-bye, Skip stood behind her and hugged her around the waist.
“I’m the silliest girl in the world,” she said.

“You’re not,” Flighty said.

“Oh yeah,” Skip let go and she turned to see tears in her eyes,
“Well I am Flighty, too silly to know that death is final until Bitty McPherson dies, I just realized that I’ve been expecting Momma and Papa to just come home one day like they’ve only been away on holiday.”

Flighty hugged her,
“Oh Skip, you are a silly thing, that’s what I like so much about you, even when you’re old and gray you’ll still be a girl deep down.”

“Why would anyone like that?” she asked insulted.

“You’re a sweetheart,” Flighty insisted, “That’s why. An innocent. Not even this war can take that from you fully.”

Skip smiled and kissed the side of her face.

Flighty grinned and blushed, then her expression sagged, Skip turned to see what was the matter and saw five shepherds coming; Callie Waterchild and her husband Heck, Young Hawthornson, Carrolson, and a fellow by the name of Greychild.

“Walkerson,” Carrolson called out, “Got a talk to have with you.”

“Ayeah,” Flighty squeaked she gave Skip a little shove, and whispered,
“Get out of here.”

“What for?” Skip asked frowning not yet done kissing her for the time being.

“You planning to sell us out about the wire?” Carrolson asked, obviously the speaker of the group.

“I would not do such a thing,” Flighty answered.

Skip frowned, they were up for trouble she figured, there to bully Flighty or whatever, she could almost spit in Callie Waterchild’s poxy, doughy-white face, she was the wealthiest shepherd in the area behind Flighty and that always angered her.

“Well you say that in the light of day, but at night…” he said.

“Let her alone,” Skip said, “Someone already snitched that she was Crounsten in the first place or else they’d have never known.”

This threw Carrolson and his mob for a loop.

“Stay out of this, Skip,” Flighty said.

“We have only the interest of our families in mind,” Waterchild spoke up, “Those of us with no family, bold in our head strong youth do not think of such things.”

At that Heck pulled out a pair of old fashioned wool shears that since the invention of the buzzers were used for nothing but dirty dealings.

“If you’re here trying to spook someone you can take your old sop of a man and take to the road with that,” Skip told them stepping in front of Flighty.

“Go home, Skip,” she said, “I can handle this.”

“Tartarus I will,” she answered back.

“What a way to speak to and in front of your elders, “ Callie Waterchild said, “Your folks should have married you off before they passed, you’re too little to understand a thing, your Pa is probably rolling over in the temple yard that you’re sweethearts with a bloody Croun.”

“My Pa thought that Flighty was a good person,” Skip said, “And he would be here in this very spot telling you the very same thing if he were alive, he would not let you threaten her like this.”

“Enough then,” Young Hawthornson said to them and then specifically to Flighty, “No this ain’t right, but we got to protect the bayou and if having that wire means we have some advantage then I’ll have to do what I have to do.”

“You can’t hide behind the youngun forever,” Greychild said, it seemed that the foulest people were a part of this little mob.

“Off with you,” Skip used the same tone she would to her lammies.

The mob left and took to the road with the aid of a wagon driven by Heck.

“Bloody cowards,” Skip shouted and shook her fist.

“You are a silly girl,” Flighty said a worried look on her face.

“What’s that,” Skip said and went to comfort her but she stepped away.

“You should have run,” she said, and reached into her jacket and pulled out a gun just bigger than her hand, it was flat with a long skinny nozzle.

Skip gasped,
“You wouldn’t have…”

“I can’t say,” Flighty said, “My sister gave it to me, I should have never taken it…oh Skip…I swore I’d never pick up one of these awful things again.”

They stood in silence staring at the gun.

“I’ve taken lives before Skip, awful people, my enemies, it was part of my job,” she sniffed tears running freely down her face, and it broke Skip’s heart to see her cry,
“But to put a bullet into someone from the bayou who only mean to protect themselves from me because I’ve already lied to them….deep down they know I’m not right.”

“No, Flighty,” she said sitting in the grass and patting the spot next to her, “I just don’t agree with that, and I won’t sit around and watch someone hurt you.”

Flighty sat and leaned against her shoulder, Skip kissed the top of her head.

“I’m lucky to have you, I’m going to get rid of this fool gun.”
Skip cast her eyes to the blue sky and curled her arm around Flighty protectively, almost defiantly, as if to show the Goddess and all the fates what she would not part with.

~ e. a. b. ~

Chapter five: All Saints Day

Any other Mid-Summer end there would be ribbons all over Chocolate Bayou, tied to everything from lampposts to loan trees out in the pastures, around children’s arms, and sheep’s necks, ribbons of all colours, twelve in all, one for each month, one for each saint.

There were no ribbons for this Saints day, the Crouns believed in no one higher than their empress, and the people of Chocolate Bayou were afraid to openly honor their saints. So the holiday was hidden or barely celebrated at all.

Flighty was born under the month of St. Elton the lover; she wore a pink ribbon tied into one of the buttons of her jacket.

Skip was born under the month of St. Tori, the warrior, and wore a red ribbon looped around her cap, and tied into a clever bow.

Flighty laughed to see her as she arrived with a bunch of flowers, her fiddle under her arm and her little runty betcher trotting behind her for the private party they were holding at Lillie and Gertie’s place.

Lillie was roasting a pig out in the open yard, it was her specialty, and she took pride in cooking it slow covering it with layers of sweet honey glaze.

She gave Flighty a big hug and they walked hand in hand to Lillie who had a gold ribbon tied around her knee, she had been born under St. Bruce the very first citizen of New Avalon who found the island after being adrift in a great flood.

“Happy All Saints to you ladies,” she smiled at them.

“Happy All Saints,” they said right back and Skip presented her with the flowers.

“How pretty,” Gertie appeared with a tray of sweet bread placing it on a table tied with more ribbons, she herself wore a large brimmed hat trimmed in violet ribbons the colour of the lusty St. Britney the muse of dance. She took the flowers and placed them on the table in the center.

“Sit down you two,” Gertie grinned, “And tell me how it’s been with you.”

“Just fine,” Flighty blushed, Skip sat and tore into the sweet bread.

“Oh you two,” Gertie said, “You just take your time…so sweet the both of you.”

Skip laughed nervously.

“There comes Patty,” Lillie said from her spit, “Late as usual,”
Up the road Toothy pulled her little family, her mane tied with green, blue, and gold, representing St. Sarah of the sheep; Patty’s month, and St. Natalie of mercy, Rita’s month. Like Lillie Baby Lenny was tied with gold ribbons.

Gertie went to fetch the baby and returned bouncing her in her arms, but Lenny was walking on her own and immediately wanted down.

Patty and Rita sat at the table and they watched Gertie chase the baby around the yard trying to cuddle her.

“You always did go about charming ladies the wrong way,” Lillie laughed at her.

“I charmed you didn’t I?” Gertie asked.

“Yeah but I never grew out of wanting to be close to a nice big set of bosoms,” Lillie said and they all laughed.

“Oh you have such a filthy mouth,” Gertie chased Lillie around the spit.

Skip laughed until tears streamed down her eyes, she saw Flighty smiling at her through her tears and wanted to kiss her.

“Let me alone,” Lillie said, “I got to mind this pig.”

Gertie was out of breath so she sat with them puffing cheerfully.

Baby Lenny got hold of the runt and they tussled in the grass.

“That’s a cute runt,” Rita said, “What will you name her?”

Skip shrugged,
“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well you’ve got to call her something,” Patty said.

“How about Patty?” she asked.

“I’ll smack you,” Patty laughed.

Lillie came over,
“So you heard what happened to Belv Amoschild?” she asked.

Skip nodded, he had come back three days after the Commander laid down the law with his leg broken, and some of his sheep had been slaughtered.

“A shame,” Rita said, “I don’t want to hear of it on All Saints.”

“And the wire?” Skip asked, “Any new messages?”

“None,” Lillie said, “Only that Affinity Point is occupied.”

“And the Priestess?” Rita asked intrigued.

Lillie shook her head, passing out mugs to be filled by a pitcher of blacksap beer,
“No one knows.”

“Bless her,” Gertie shook her head.

“Come on now,” Patty stood going for her flute, “Leave your old pig Lillie and play something with us.”

They played then ate until they were stuffed even the runt was stuffed with fresh greens. She and Lenny gave up their game and lay in the grass, the baby’s head on the sheep’s belly.

As night began to fall Patty picked her up and she placed her sleepy head on her shoulder. Rita kissed them all good-bye, and they left in their wagon.

Flighty and Skip kissed Lillie and Gertie good-bye and thanked them for an intoxicating meal.

“You should stay with me,” Skip said to Flighty as she delivered her safely to her yard.

“Don’t worry,” she said kissing her cheek, “My sister will meet me half way.”

“Oh,” Skip said, “And if someone sees you, they’ll be suspicious.”

“We’re Walkers,” Flighty grinned, “We know how to take care of ourselves,” she gave her a sweet lingering kiss.

“I worry, I can’t help it,” Skip said.

“Don’t,” Flighty said and smiled, “When this is all over I want to marry you Skip Fairchild, and I’ll make sure you never have to worry again, you’ll see me so much you’ll be sick of me.”

Skip laughed,
“Never.”

Flighty got back on her horse, slipping a bit, she had drank a whole mug of beer and finished off Skip’s.

“Good-bye my love,” she grinned and galloped off into the darkness.

Skip stood in the darkness for a time then she had her little runt went inside and straight to bed.

Halfway drunk she drifted right to sleep and dreamed of the pastures and Flighty there among her sheep smiling and saying something pleasant Skip guessed because there was no sound.

Then in black and white like she had stepped from the screen of a moving picture show there was Bitty McPherson rising from mist a lot like the kind of prop used in a play.

Skip tried to yell to warn Flighty but she seemed not to hear her she just went on smiling and talking.

Bitty was dressed in her brown suit like the day Skip had met her, through the mist she could see that it was heavily stained with blood, heavy and wet at her chest, splattered in spots at her face and neck.

She pulled a gun from her fashionable jacket, a handheld one and pointed it at Flighty, her arm jerked as the gun gave a soundless explosion erupting a puff of smoke the wisped into the air.

Flighty clutched her chest and fell forward among the sheep….

Skip broke from her sleep gasping Flighty’s name, her Crouns name, Asterme. She shivered and climbed out of bed not able to bear being there much longer, she moved about the house like a ghost.

Her mother had been good at interpreting dreams men and women would come from miles around just to tell her their dreams. Skip wished she had taken more interest in the practice like her brother Ash.

Skip paced before her father’s bookshelf, his little collection she had always been more interested in his passion, books and history, and stories.

He had been a sensible man but believed there was more to the unseen world than the saints, and the Goddess. He liked to tell Skip about the day she was born, how he had been out tending to the sheep, and left the boys to keep an eye on their mother.

“She was bursting with you Skip,” he would laugh, “But that woman is fool stubborn she sent the boys out fishing and those fools gladly went then decided she would ride to visit old Gertie who was down with a cold, your mother she set up Young Lightning to the wagon and drove herself halfway before she start getting the labour pains.”

The he would laugh again for a time and say how it was no laughing matter back then,
“Now I was out in the fields having me self a nap, and I get this dream come to me, more of a picture it was of your mother off White Stone road in a horrible pain on the wagon. Well I got right up, did not ask my mind one question, I rode out there on Gip the other mare we had back then and sure enough there she was, I hopped on the wagon and drove her to Doc, Hawthornson and an hour later this fat baby girl skips right on into the world.”

Skip laughed to her self, and did not ask her mind any more questions she dressed, fetched Lightning, made sure she had the crossbow, and rode out to Flighty’s.

The open air was liberating and the sleep and fear that had clouded her mind like vapor began to dissipate.

“Skip Fairchild they’ll be shipping you off to the asylum,” she said aloud to the night, but she didn’t turn back.

She did slow Lightning to a trot, the mare grunted and tossed her head stopping and stomping the ground.

“Well I’m sorry,” Skip told her, “I’ll make up my mind here in just a bit.”

Lightning tossed her head back and screamed.

“Hold it girl, easy-easy,” Skip said, but the horse reared something the old mare had not done in years.

She turned an uneasy circle but Skip fought her back around,

“Now calm yourself,” she said to the mare, she glanced out at the night and a clump of trees, her legs tingled numbly and she remembered the hulking creature that had gotten Rose.

She grabbed the crossbow and tucked it under her arm she clutched an arrow in her hand.

“On horse,” she shouted kicking poor Lightning in the ribs the horse whinnied in protest but was propelled on fear.

They didn’t get far.

A figure dashed out in the road in front of them, Lightning screamed and reared dumping Skip and galloping off the road.

“Lightning, come,” she shouted sprawled out in the dust sitting up feeling around for the crossbow it had gotten away during the fall.

A growl came from the darkness and she gasped searching though did not want to look up to see that familiar shape.

Skip scrambled backwards her arm snaking out for the crossbow the other clutching the arrow. The creature before her on the road prowled and paced, before moving forward and halting, growling at her.

Skip whimpered, her arm trembled when her fingers brushed the curved wood of the bow, her fingers snapped around handle, she turned her head a bit, and when she looked out at the road again she saw a darkness, a shadows sailing above her as the Hind leaped for her.

~ e. a. b. ~

Chapter six: Flighty’s Song

When she returned home from the All Saints party at Lillie’s, Flighty parked by the house and a light on inside.

“Well sister feel free to make yourself at home,” she announced when she walked through the door.

Ahnke was sitting by the heart with a stroung-board and all the red and white stick-peg pieces set up for a game. She sat on the white side leaving the reds for her sister.

“You’re drunk,” she said in greeting, “So am I.”

Flighty laughed,
“You’ve always handled liquor better than I, among many other things.”

“Not stroung,” Ahnke smiled, “Even now you can beat me.”

Flighty sat across from her,
“I haven’t played in years.”

“Me neither,” her sister replied, “I could never stand to loose to anyone but you.”

She went to move a piece but Flighty stopped her,
“Winner goes first, and I beat you last time we played.”

“How could I forget?” Ahnke withdrew and let her move.

The stroung board was filled with rows of white and red triangles leaving a row of black squares in the center. The object of the game was to move the pieces up to dominate the center square row manipulating pieces until all red or all white were lined up.

“Tell me,” Ahnke said, “Why is a place named for chocolate have not a drop to be found.”

Flighty laughed,
“It’s a fancy thing to them like fish egg paste is to us.”

Ahnke made a face,
“Never did like it, you know the Furher outlawed it, says it’s a waste of time and effort, and not a direct asset to our people.”

Flighty laughed,
“She approves of nothing that is not working, making more Crouns, and fighting.”

“She misses you,” Ahnke said, “Before I left she told me to get you to write her and let her know you are still in this existence.”

Flighty sighed and moved sacrificing one of her reds, keeping her eye on two corner ones that would end the game.

“So mother is not disappointed that she did not get to show what a fair ruler she is by using her own daughter as an example?” Flighty asked.

Ahnke seized the opportunity and captured the piece,
“She was always grateful that I stopped her, it still bothers her, a spot on her immaculate reign.”

“I miss her too sometimes,” Flighty said.

“I miss you too Asterme,” Ahnke said, “You had fire.”

“Fire that got Lisa killed,” she answered moving into one of the empty center squares.

“The artist, you loved her,” her sister frowned at the board.

“More than you,” Flighty narrowed her eyes.

“The bitch betrayed us both for her cause,” Ahnke said, “She had no right, she nearly got you killed.”

“She only wanted equality for everyone no matter whom they loved,” Flighty took another square.

“You should have never admitted to anything,” Ahnke took a square.

“It was my duty,” Flighty captured the white piece.

“I’ve convinced mother to pardon you, her conditions are that you write a recant, and join back as third commander,” her sister looked at her pleading.

“I thought you hated me,” Flighty went for a piece but paused.

“For a very long time I did Asterme,” she said, “But you are my obnoxious little sister always into trouble…how could I hate you?”

She looked away,
“All I’ve ever wanted was your approval.”

“And it can be yours,” Ahnke said, “Write the recant.”

Flighty shook her head and moved a red piece,
“That is something I cannot do.”

Ahnke seized the piece,
“You’re a stubborn ass.”

Flighty laughed and moved a red piece dominating the center squares,
“It takes one to know one…I win.”

There was a pound on the door,
“Commander there is something out here you should see” a muffled voice called from the other side.

“What is it?” Ahnke asked annoyed.

“A horse with the saddle on, there is no rider to be found,” the voice said.

They went outside to the yard where another soldier had a grey horse by the reigns.

“Lightning, that is Skip’s horse,” Flighty said taking the horse.

“Your troublemaker,” Ahnke smiled, “Now you see what I went through all those years.”

She turned to her sister worried,
“Something is wrong.”

Flighty left the horse and trotted over into the darkness calling for Skip, returning when she got no answer.

“I must go find her,” she said to her sister, “Would you help me?”

Ahnke sighed,
“I suppose it would be a waste of my breath to ask if this girl is worth stomping through the darkness half-drunk.”

“You can ride Bach,” Flighty said to her.

“Bring some torches here,” Ahnke ordered her soldiers glowering at them when they hesitated, exchanging puzzled glances.

“Stay here until I return,” she told them when they brought the torches.

“I hate horses,” Ahnke said clumsily climbing Bach.

They took to White Stone road, shining torches, Flighty calling for Skip.

“Perhaps,” Ahnke said, “We should add to this search party.”

Flighty pondered a moment she knew Skip had been on her way to see her,
“Would one of the soldiers have detained her?” she asked her sister.

“They have orders to find me,” Ahnke said, “Are you afraid to let your friends know you lost their beloved Skip?”

“Now is not the time,” Flighty said, staring into the darkness, “I’ll find her myself.”

“Fine,” Ahnke said, lighting a cigar and puffing inspection her worried sister in the smoldering flame her lips curled into a smirk.

Flighty patted Lightning’s neck,
“Where are you Skip? My Love. Please be alright.”

~ e. a. b. ~

Chapter seven: In the Gloaming

The first thing Skip was aware of was that she was squished between two hard things, and by the smell of onion grass and the cold earth she knew the ground was beneath her. She muttered to herself and tried to move, she was pinned.

Then she remembered the hind, a low whine burned the back of her throat, she felt coarse fur, and a cold, thick, sticky sap. She tried to move again and something poked her in the breast, she gasped and reached out to touch the strange offending object.
Her memory told her that it was the fletching of an arrow, further exploration found a shaft buried deep into flesh.

Skip smelled blood then and she shivered; the hind was dead, on top of her. Bright sunlight blared at her through tufts of fur. It was day, nearing mid-morning. She dragged herself from under the hind, shading her eyes until they once again were accustomed to light.

She stood and took one weary step, then another, walking faster away from the hind until she was jogging. She heard hoof beats and knew she was near the road. She tripped on to White Stone road, falling on her knees.

“Little Skip?” someone asked, “St. Melissa, I’ve found me a lost shepherd girl.”

She looked up to see Fox Rothchild on top of a white stallion and gave a little gasp,
“Am I dead?”

He laughed dismounting,
“No girl you ain’t, but just barely alive, you’ve covered in blood.”

“S’not mine,” she said absentmindedly, “S’the hinds.”

He laughed again and took out a flask of black sap, she noticed that his arm was in a sling. He had always been a handsome fellow Skip thought so before she knew better. Fox had woolly red hair and sharp features, which currently sported a short thick beard and a thin mustache.

He had always been clever and a scholar of the Faith, and every one was sure he would go off to Affinity Point or join some abbey, but her knocked up Nessa and ended up in the army instead.
“Damn it girl, they said you’d gone a little crazy….people have been looking for ya all morning, even the bloody Crouns.”

He handed her the flask,
“Here girl, you’re old enough. St. Melissa bids you drink.”

She did not take it.

“Suit yourself,” he winked, “So tell me Skip girl, what have they done to you? Those bloody Crouns can mess with your head all right; thanks to that lass St. Melissa I escaped all right.”

“I tell you, there’s a hind,” she pointed to the trees, “I’ll show you.”

She began to walk away, but he grabbed her arm.

“I’m taking you home, Skip,” he said.

“Tartarus you are,” she snatched herself away.

“Fine you nut,” he followed her, “Such language for a little thing like yourself.”

She paid no attention to him, halfway sure the carcass would be long gone, that she was after all a little nut.

“St. Melissa,” Fox exclaimed and ran past her, he spotted the hind before she did and went to inspect it.
“What a foul mess,” he kicked the body over, burying his nose in the inner lapel of his jacket.

“Messes usually are,” she said.

“Stay right here,” he said and ran back to the road, bellowing, “Hey I found that girl Skip, you won’t believe what was keeping her.”

She walked out to the road and found that no one was there.

“She wasn’t lying about no hind my people,” he went on talking to the air.

“Fox, there’s no one there,” she said softly.

“No of course not,” he rolled his eyes, “No one you thick-headed gal but Her Goodness St. Melissa.”

~ e. a. b. ~

“And when were you going to tell us that Skip was missing?” Lillie finally got around to saying once their friend was found and safe in the back of Patty’s wagon eating a slice of bread slathered with pepper jam and rolled up.

Flighty sat next to her an arm around her love she had nothing to say in return.

“Easy-easy,” Patty said, “Skip’s safe, no harm done.”

“And you?” Lillie turned to Skip, “What are you doing out traipsing about at night slaying hinds? You’ll all send me to an early grave with your adventures.”

“Did you know Fox Rothchild is back?” Skip asked.

Patty laughed,
“Yes, two miracles in two days.”

Flighty nodded, and watched the men as they glanced from Skip to the dead Hind, talking amongst themselves.

“Ayeah she did-”

“With a cross bow-”

“Right through its black heart-”

“Dead on in the dark-”

“The little shepherd girl-”

“Skip Fairchild”

“Slayed a hind.”

“Took her prize betcher in Mid-Summer”

“This is a sign my people,” Fox Rothchild announced, “Like St. Melissa scribed in the Book of Faith.”

“Tell us then,” someone shouted, before Fox went off to the service he could be called upon to interpret the text from the Book of Faith, he knew the whole thing it seemed and usually kept a small worn leather bound copy on his saddle bag.

“To prove herself the girl killed the Gorgon’s hind-the goddess dressed in its skin and declared the girl a saint and a hero and she drove all who despised the goddess away like Wilden sheep,” Fox recited, “Tis a sign.”

“I remember something like that,” Lillie said to her friends, “Was St. Tori who killed the hind, when a danger comes to New Avalon the gorgon sets out her hind to terrify the country side, the slayer of the beast is said to be the next sainted hero.”

“Skip?” Patty looked at her little friend, a smear of jam on the corner of her mouth.

Flighty wiped it away,
“Surely its just a myth, none of you have ever seen a hind, so how do you suppose this is one.”

“Just like a bloody Crouns,” Amoschild said, “Whatever they can’t build up or knock down they don’t believe in.”

“This ain’t the days of saints Fox Rothchild,” Mayor Starkschild said, “Skip Fairchild is not going to pick up a sword and lead us to victory.”

“And I suppose these ain’t the days for hind neither, yet there is a dead one there in the square for all to see,” someone shouted and there was a chorus of agreement.

“I know you fought bravely Fox,” the Mayor said, “We’re not soldiers, and the Crouns are here in our home.”

“I say it’s a sign,” Fox said, “A girl killing a hind, it’s a sign that if we have faith our little community can defeat that bloody hind the Crouns.”

“Fox son, careful what you say” Pendleson looked Flighty’s way.

“She’s on our side,” Skip said.

Fox nodded,
“Of course we all know Flighty Walkerson she’s as good as anyone from the bayou as far as I’m concerned,” everyone nodded reluctantly and he went on,

“From what I understand it’s what Skip first called it,” Fox said, “St. Tori must have come to her in a dream.”

“The girl did claim to see the hind when none of believed her,” Pendelson said, he was drunk and apologetic,
“Would you ever forgive us little Skip? Would the Goddess?”

The men all took off their caps and murmured.

“We have to take the skin and head, and offer it to the goddess,” Fox told them, and all the men agreed to this.

“Flighty,” Skip said, “I’m tired.”

“I’ll take you on home then,” she said helping her from the wagon.

“Watch out for her Walkerson,” Patty said.

“And if ya’ll happen to meet any dragons, Capricorns or the like on the way could you refrain from slaying them?” Lillie snorted.

Flighty helped Skip on to Bach’s back, and climbed on behind her, relishing being so close to her.

“I was so worried,” she said, “You know the rules Skip, you can’t be out after dark.”

“I was worried too,” Skip sighed, “I just had to see you Flighty.”

The Crouns shepherd kissed the back of her neck,
“When this is all over, I want to make it so I will never have to leave your side.”

Skip snuggled closer to her,
“I’d like that too.”

Flighty giggled and took her home.

Skip went to check on the sheep, Patty and Lillie had come by earlier to feed them. Inside the little runt was curled up on the rug by the door, she had chewed the fringed edges anxiously awaiting her mistresses return.

“Hello you little dear,” Skip patted her, “I’m glad I didn’t take you out with me last night.”

A haunted look settled on her face and she went to the pictures of her departed family.

“Let me get you to bed,” Flighty said, “I’ll put on some tea and bring you some sandwiches.”

“Alright then,” Skip said, “If you’ll stay with me.”

Flighty gave a smile,
“I will.”

Skip went to her room and removed the bloody clothes she wore, she washed up wearily from the basin, sure she could never get that raw animal smell out of her nose.
She had dressed in her shift when Flighty brought the sandwiches and tea.

“Oh Skip you keep the most disorganized kitchen I’ve ever seen,” she commented.

“Just like Ma did,” Skip said, “She always seemed ordered to me.”

“Of course, she was your mother,” Flighty laughed.

They ate in silence sitting on the bed, outside the birds sang a late morning chorus to the high rising sun.

“Are you alright Skip?” Flighty asked, “I mean your spirit…”

“Right now,” she answered, “I feel like something’s coming, I have since last night, it just feels like I have to be ready or I’ll be swallowed whole.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen,” Flighty said, “I swear-I swear, Skip.”

“War is coming to the Bayou,” she said.

“That doesn’t have to be,” Flighty said simply, “War is expensive, not even Ameritia can keep up.”

“I’m tired,” Skip said, she climbed under the covers and sighed fitfully.

“Are you angry with me?” Flighty asked.

“No,” she answered, she turned over facing the wall.

Flighty stood,
“I’ll let you rest then.”

She went to the door, pausing, turning to look at Skip’s back.
“You should stay,” she said, “I mean…you could…I’d like you to.”

Flighty was silent, she dropped her hand before it could reach the knob,
“I would Skip but there’s a lot to be done out there.”

She turned over in bed,
“Can’t it wait Flighty?” she asked, “Just for an afternoon.”

“When this is all over,” the little Crouns shepherd answered, “When this is all done, I’m going to do right by you Skip.”

“What if there is no later?” she asked, “What if this war takes one of us, or both of us?”

“Just stop it,” Flighty grabbed the doorknob, “Just stop talking like that Skip.”

She left, and rode Bach out of the Fairchild place as fast as she could.

Ahnke waited at her own place, she wanted to know why there was a line of Chocolate Bayou citizens going up and down the road in the middle of the day.

Flighty told her about the hind as they stood outside and watched the procession.

Her older sister laughed,
“And what is a hind? A wolf?” she asked crunching on an apple.

“Sort of,” Flighty explained, “But much larger, larger than a man.”

Ahnke frowned deeply and tossed the core.

“And they’re not supposed to exist,” she said, “They’re part of a myth, a girl saint slays a monster in a time of crisis and becomes the hero of that crisis.”

“Your girl is this saint?” she asked.

“A coincidence,” Flighty said, “That’s all it is, these people are simple, they will believe anything that brings them hope.”

Ahnke walked around the side of the house her long coat flowing behind her, Flighty followed,
“And what do think my sister.”

“I have never really believed in the so-called unseen world, s’not in my blood,” Flighty said.

Ahnke shrugged,
“Our people believe that there is no god or goddess, that the only hero is the one that will rise from the ranks and do all they can to remain loyal to their people,” her older sister said, “Our worst enemy is someone who believes there is a higher power on their side…blind faith makes men more dangerous.”

“And shepherds?” Flighty asked, “Can blind faith make them into soldiers?”

“I cannot say,” Ahnke looked up at the sky, rain clouds were coming in from the east.

“You cannot blame Skip for this,” Flighty said, “She was only defending herself.”

“She was breaking curfew,” Ahnke said simply, “I can’t have mythological heroes resurrected, there will surely be a revolt.”

“Lock her up?” Flighty asked, “I won’t let you Ahnke--”

“Or would you prefer these people to be shot to death trying to fight the Crouns army on wagons with hoes and shovels?” her sister the First Commander of Crounsten asked.

“Taking Skip will start a riot,” Flighty said, “You know that--”

“I don’t have the resources to lock up all these people, spilling some blood will bring them to their senses,” Ahnke said walking to her car, a soldier quickly opened the door for her,
“I’m inviting you to come along.”

“Now?” Flighty asked, “You’re going to arrest her now?”

Her sister did not respond.

“Allow me to go get her,” she said, “I’ll bring her to you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let that be,” Ahnke said.

Flighty’s face hardened,
“What can I do to change your mind, Commander?”

“You can recant, and join up again,” she said.

“Or I can go with you to arrest my love, betray her one way or the other?” Flighty asked.

Ahnke shrugged.

The Crouns shepherd turned away.

“I never figured you for a coward sister,” Ahnke called after her, “Especially versus a bunch of farmers and herders.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll cut your throat,” Flighty told her.

Ahnke laughed heartily and got into her car.

~ e. a. b. ~

Greychild and his two idiot sons pounded on the door, imitating the distant thunder that shook the day.

Skip was in the yard with the runt and saw them gallop in on their dappled gray horses.

“What’s this now?” she asked creeping up behind them.

They turned startled.

“There you are lass,” Greychild said.

Skip noticed the crossbows and took a step back,

“What’s the meaning of this?” she croaked.

“Fox sent us to watch over ya,” he answered the young Greychild’s cleared their throats, pleased with their duty.

“Watch over me for what?” she asked though she had a pretty good idea.

“Crouns,” Greychild said, “They took the hind, and we feared they might come for ya next.”

“Flighty watches out for me,” Skip told them.

Greychild frowned,
“Just because she’s the Croun’s lap-dog doesn’t mean nothing, anyways, I heard the Crouns are less accepting of her kind.”

Skip frowned right back, there was no sense in arguing,
“Well I’m not going to upset my daily business with all this, you want to follow me around all day s’fine with me,” she told them.

A compromised reached Skip went back to the yard with the runt trying to train her into a betcher.

She had the runt on a lead and took her around a small group of sheep keeping them all in a tight bunch.

“Bah you’re doing it all wrong,” Greychild said, “Didn’t your pa teach you nothing girl?”

She stood with her hands on her hips,
“He taught me plenty--”

She saw a cloud of dust moving up white stone road, one of the sleek Crouns cars before it.

The Greychild’s turned.

“Now. Now,” Papa Greychild said to Skip, “We’ll go hide, if anything happens we don’t like, we’ll shoot.”

He readied his crossbow.

“You’ll get yourself killed,” she told them, “Just get rid of those damned things and act natural.”

“We took an oath,” Greychild said.

“An oath?” she asked.

“Of the Chocolate Bayou Militia, I’m first Deputy, and Fox is Sheriff,” he said with great pride, he looked to his boys,
“We’re soldiers now.”

They nodded.
Thunder rolled, it was east by the sound of it.

“You’re all looney,” she told them, “The Crouns have guns, bullets, and they don’t have to stop and reload once they shoot.”

“We’ve been practicing all afternoon,” Frank Greychild said.

“Lance you get behind the shed,” Greychild said to his older son, “Frank you get behind those trees there, I’ll get in the high grass here.”

“No, I’ll tell them where you are,” Skip argued.

“Listen up girl, this here is war,” Greychild said, and the three of them dispersed.

Skip shuddered, the car was nearly pulling into the drive, she ran to one of the Greychild horses and hopped on.

“Yah,” she told the gelding and he burned into a gallop, she streaked across the road in the path of the car.

“Skip,” she heard Greychild call after her.

“St. Melissa help me,” she murmured to herself, when she heard the buzz of cycles behind her.

She turned her head and saw the riders, and past them she saw her place, the figure of Greychild the high grass to his knees, his crossbow raised.

Thunder rumbled in the east, closer than before.

The higher pitch of gunfire mocked the sky.

And a man fell, shot dead in the high grass.

~ e. a. b. ~

Patty rode ahead with the Greychild boys, Lance had his arm in a sling, Frank was looked solemn though every few minutes his cool demeanor broke and he doubled over sobbing.

Mrs. Greychild waited in the yard with a torch, the falling rain distorted the light and the woman, her silhouette burned like a candle flame.

“My boys,” she ran out to greet them, “What happened? Where’s your pa?”

“Something went wrong ma,” Frank began to sob he dismounted and came to lay his head on her breast.

“What?” she asked hugging him close, “What my boy?”

“Pa,” Lance said and could say no more.

Patty came and put a hand on her shoulder,
“He’s gone Eudora, gone.”

Just then a flat wagon rode up driven by Doc. Hawthornson.

Mrs. Greychild began to sob,
“Goddess, no, Chet, my Chet.”

The Doc came to console her and Patty left them.

Flighty waited in the rain beyond the wagon,
“And what of Skip?” she asked her.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Flighty told her.

“You must do something,” Patty said, “That crazy Fox Rothchild has this fool militia…more people will die.”

“Skip is safe,” Flighty said, “She will not be hurt.”

“What makes you so damned sure?” Patty asks.

“Crouns do not torture innocent girls,” Flighty growled she saw the look on her friend’s face she had never raised her voice to any of them. She blew out a deep breath.

“The Commander herself gave me her word,” she said, “That could all change if Fox and his gang do anything stupid, so tell him that for me if you would.”

Patty’s brow furrowed,
“Tell him yourself…there’s a meeting here tonight, a viewing of poor Greychild’s body. Them Crouns are using you, they’re using Skip, you’re a brainy one Flighty, and a noble one,” she said over the pouring rain, “Figure something out.”

Flighty turned Bach and left Patty there, when she reached her home, her sister was waiting there.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Ahnke said, she sat before the Stroung-board.

Flighty went over and gave the game a kick sending pieces flying all over.
“Let Skip go and I’ll tell you what that discharged soldier Fox is up too,” she said.

“Such a temper Asterme,” Ahnke said, “No. I want much more than that.”

“I’ll arrest them myself,” she said.

“Ahh,” Ahnke smiled, “In three days I will release her, you have three days to bring me the rebels.”

~ e. a. b. ~

Chapter eight: Motherland

Skip was not sure where she was, Ahnke had led her in blindfolded, terrified, and shoved her in without a word. For hours she was afraid to remove the blindfold, but finally did to find she was in total, dusty, darkness.

She slept mostly, she dreamed about her Ma, and Pa, and Flighty, and Patty, Lillie, Rose, the runt, and Bitty McPherson’s legs and her laugh.

The creaking of a great door woke her, and in the light of a single candle Skip saw Ahnke.

“Where is Flighty?” Skip asked, “How is she?”

“Fine,” Ahnke said, “Hiding out in her home, angry, bitter, sad, frightened, but she is mostly worried about you.”

She set down a plate of bread and a mug of water, Skip could not remember the last time she had eaten, but she held off and faced her captor.

“Your people have turned against her,” Ahnke said, “We have talked quite a bit…and I have convinced her back into her senses, she will become Crouns again.”

“She’d never do such a thing,” Skip told her.

“For you little one, she would,” Ahnke said, “For this town, yes, Amertia is coming…soon…Asterme thinks it would be better if she were in command here.”

“You’ve cornered that’s what you’ve done,” Skips said, “You’ve used me to make her think she has to make some stupid choice.”

She slammed her fist down on the table making the bread and the wooden plate jump,
“There are no choices in life,” Anhke said, “Only what is right and what is wrong.”

She stood and stalked out of the room her long jacket like black wings behind her.

Skip shivered, she ate the bread and drank the water, then sat back in the darkness, she meant to watch the candle burn out but fell asleep and dreamed of old Shine chasing her through the woods.

A crash woke her up, at first she thought it was a loud blast of thunder but the rumble that shook the stone floor beneath her told her that the crash was from something worse.

The candle burned a tiny glow, the flame drowning in wax.

“Goddess help me,” she whispered and there was another crash she could make out the drone of planes…planes over the bayou…and a faraway faint, rata-tata-tata. Something hit her in the head, and then there was a rain of dust.

Skip kneeled and curled into a ball her arms over her neck.

She wondered if she were dreaming and begged her mind to wake up, she had heard that if someone died in their dream that in real life their heart would stop and they would die in their sleep.

She did not want to die alone in a dark cell not sure if she were having a nightmare or if the world actually was crumbling down around her.

The thunder of war stopped and Skip slipped into an uneasy sleep convinced that she had only been dreaming.

“Skip,” a voice called, “Come on love wake up.”

She lifted her head then shielded her eyes from the beam of a torch. Next she was aware of chanting like the rushing of the sea heard before it was seen.

“Flighty,” she whispered and listened to make sure she had not gone daft there in the darkness,
“I had the most awful dream.”

“S’alright, Skip,” Flighty helped her up, she looked different Skip thought but she cold not put her finger on the difference.

“How are you love?” Flighty asked touching the side of her face softly.

“I’m fine,” Skip said and noticed the uniform but was too numb to protest.

She was pretty sure she could hear chanting, a monosyllabic word over and over, but she could not make out those exact words.

Someone called out in Crounsten and Flighty turned a frightened look in her eyes,
“We have to go Skip, I need you to hurry along with me.”

“Can we go home?” Skip asked.

“Yes we certainly can,” Flighty said.

They left that place and walked up a long corridor, some Crouns soldiers behind them Skip leaning on Flighty, the chanting got louder, and she knew a great mob was outside, probably the Amertians come at last.

They came to a room with a door on the end, and Skip could hear the voices outside clearly chanting, free…free…free.

Her heart leapt into her throat and she did not want to go on.

“I’m frightened,” she said.

“No Skip girl, I’m here,” she said soothingly then barked out an order, the door was open, there was no one there but the chanting was louder, more distinct.

“Free. Skip.” They were saying, “Free. Skip. Free. Skip.”

Outside there was a smoky haze, and she could smell things burning, the night was darker than it should have been the black could only be unsettled by torchlight.

There was a car then and the soldiers were all around them, she could see their faces were strained as she was gathered into the car, Flighty said something to them and Skip saw Ahnke screeching out orders.

Then there were gunshots Flighty said something to her sister who was struck in the head, her neck jerked back.

Something spattered Skip’s face, she had become all to familiar with gore, and knew that Ahnke would be all right.

The First Commander shrieked and wiped her hand across her face inspecting her hand.

Skip grinned as Flighty climbed into the car, there were more gunshots and the car was struck again and again with the same projectile that had hit Ahnke landing on the body and windows with violently wet thuds.

“Shit,” Flighty said, “They’re flinging sheep shit.”

Skip grinned.

She didn’t go home. She was taken to Flighty’s house where soldiers stood guard under great whitish torches lighting the place up like day. They saluted Flighty and rapped their heels together.

Inside Skip was bathed and fed, then put to bed.

Flighty did all of this in a heavy silence she did not speak until Skip was safely under several warm quilts but still shivering.

“I love you Skip,” she said standing by the bed her fine uniform (she had neglected to take off the jacket but had unbuttoned it) wet at the cuffs from helping Skip out of the bath, the breast splattered with minuscule beads of dried shit, a blob of jelly on the rumpled shirt beneath.

“I love you too,” she answered and reached out for a hug.

Flighty gladly walked into her arms,

“I’m sorry things happened this way, Skip.”

She chuckled in reply,
“I’d give anything but your love to see Ahnke hit in the head with a bunch of sheep shit.

~ e. a. b. ~

“Our little town lies in ruin,” Fox shook his head as he stood before the men and women of Chocolate Bayou,
“And who knows if little Skip Fairchild survived it,” he went on, “Do the Crouns care? By St. Melissa, have they even bothered but to save their own asses?”

“Skip Fairchild is fine,” someone said.

Fox peered into the crowd,
“Flighty Walkerson?” he asked, not sure, she was boosted several inches by the black Crouns boots she wore, he dark hair was tied back, and she was dressed in the silver badge uniform he knew as a high Crounsten officer.

The crowd parted murmuring angrily.

“Fox Rothchild are you trying to get all these people killed?” she asked, “Trying to fight Crounsten? Will you fight Amertia first? They’ve nearly whipped us but I’m sure you can fight them with a couple of crossbows.”

“You’re one of them?” he asked, his face reddening, “Bloody, dirty, Crouns,” he ran at her, she quickly removed a short rapier from under her coat. Fox stopped a few feet short of her.

“You recognize this huh?” she asked, “You really did fight in the trenches,” she took a step forward,
“Did you know Crouns children learn to use these in grade school? They use wooden ones of course dipped in red paint, a student with a red marked clothes is a disgrace.”

She paused to survey them, she felt horrible for cowing these shepherds and farmers, she turned back to Fox,
“Who was killed tonight?” she asked him.

“Brownchild,” Fox said, “Shot dead.”

“I’m commander here now,” she told them, “Believe what you will but I love this town, I love this island, better than my own homeland-this town will become a hospice town, the rules of war state that it will be a neutral zone, this means no more bombing, but soldiers Crounsten and Amertian will come here wounded and we will fix them up.”

She looked around the room,
“I will need a militia to keep the peace, Crounsten and Amertian soldiers though wounded are enemies…Will you lead the militia Fox?” she asked extending her hand.

He looked down at her reluctant to take it.
“This is for peace Fox, you said before you trusted me, so by St. Melissa trust me now,” she said.

He took it,
“I ain’t wearing no Crounsten uniform.”

She gave a little smile,
“A-course not.”

There were dissatisfied grumbles, but Fox quieted them.

“Listen up by St. Melissa,” he said, “I wouldn’t sell my people up the river, for peace, I will shake hands with a Crouns.”

Flighty left quickly, outside a car waited, and soldiers on cycles.

“Blistro!” she said to them and they started the engines.

She rode further down White Stone road and ordered the driver to stop, she got out the car and went to one of the soldiers on the cycles.

“All of you wait here,” she told them mounting the cycle, “I will be only a minute.”

They nodded and watched her ride up to Patty Hallson’s place. Lillie’s buggy was there in the drive. Flighty supposed they were having supper together and sighed wondering if they all would ever have supper again like the old times.

The door immediately opened as she turned of the cycle engine, Lillie and Patty came out to the yard.

“I came to tell you some things,” Flighty said to them.

“Seems that way,” Lillie said her voice hot with hostility, “Speak then.”

“I was once second command in the Crouns army, the first commander is my sister, they sent me here to find a place that would accommodate an army, a quiet peaceful place…I found Chocolate Bayou and fell in love with the place, and I doomed it…”

“And little Skip?” Patty sighed, “Where does she fit in to all this?”

“Nowhere, she knew, but she wanted to protect me, I asked her to keep my secret.”

“And have you turned against her? Had her locked away?” Lillie asked.

“I put this uniform on again to help Skip, to help the bayou, I know more than my sister about what’s best, I can do good for everyone and having them-- you hate me is a price I am willing to pay.”

“And what do you think she’ll say when she sees you in that uniform?” Patty asked, “Do you think she would want you do this, even to save her?”

“She understands, she must understand,” Flighty said, “I love her.”

Patty walked over to her slowly and touched her shoulder,
“If Skip forgives you I can, she’s got a good heart Flighty.”

“I know,” she sniffed.

“There’s much more to her than a sweet shepherd girl,” Patty said.

“We took up for you Flighty,” Lillie said, “You fool you’ll have us all burned over for treason,” she burst into a grin, “But I wouldn’t trust my home to anyone else.”

Flighty was grabbed up into a hug and invited in to supper.
“No,” she said, “I must see about Skip, she’s resting at my house, I’ll bring her out to see you.”

“Do that,” Patty said, “And be careful.”

“I will,” she said and turned to Lillie,

“I promise to do all I can to do right by ya’ll.”

Her old friend nodded,
“I know you will, we’re your home now, Flighty.”

~ e. a. b. ~

Skip woke up in her house, which was strange because she immediately remembered falling asleep curled up in Flighty’s arms, in her bed at her house. Skip sat up and saw Bitty standing in the doorway dressed in that bloody brown skirt and jacket.

She knew she should not go anywhere with a dead woman, even if that woman had once been her lover, but she climbed out of bed anyway.

Bitty led her away from Flighty’s house, across the hills, over Shepherd’s peak to the bayou, the walk was considerably shorter than it should have taken, that’s how Skip knew it was all a dream.

She found herself staring into the murky water.

Then she was falling in, and though Papa had taught her to swim when she was little, Skip could not break the surface. Under the water it was not so murky, she could see the dead under there, Ma, Pa, the boys, though they weren’t dead for real she prayed, Bitty was down there surrounded by red wisps of blood floating around her. And there beside her was Flighty.

Skip woke up clinging to the Crouns officer she was sure she loved, though she wore the enemies red stripes.

“You all right,” Flighty asked putting a cool hand to her face.

“Dreams,” Skip said, “Awful things plaguing me.”

Flighty kissed her,
“Then don’t sleep for now, just rest in my arms.”

Skip grinned,
“All right then,” she kissed her back and said softly,
“But if I may, there are some new types of rest in a woman’s arms I have learned--”
Flighty reddened, she leaned over putting a hand to the shepherd’s lips,
“Skip, you’ll kill me with such talk.”

In reply she gave an expression of mock annoyance,
“If we’re going to be together forever you’ll have to stop shushing me.”

“I should just let you do whatever you want with me then?” Flighty asked,
“Forever and ever just like that?”

Skip laughed,
“Why of course.”

Flighty took her hand and kissed it,
“A small price to pay, my love.”

She grinned,
“I’m glad you see it my way.”

~ e. a. b. ~

to be continued in Chapter nine: Rebel Heart…please feed the bard…EllisABell[at]hotmail.com

If you have enjoyed Ellis Acton Bell's "A Shepherd's Tale - Part Two", then please be certain to e-mail her at  EllisABell[at]hotmail.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

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