Vacant Faith

  Vacant Faith

  Written by Melody Hewson

  Copyright Melody Hewson 2015

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  A young girl stretched out her legs to balance herself as she reached for the last piece of fruit still within reach of where she sat. The thick limb on which she perched shook slightly with her movements, causing the leaves to whisper among themselves. Scattered around the base of the tree lay more fruit, most of which she had thrown down there herself. A large palomino stallion placidly ate the best of her offerings, his golden coat dappled by the shade of the tree and a riding blanket resting across his back.

  The girl looked down at the horse as she took a bite of her prize, chewing thoughtfully. “Daddy,” She finally asked between bites. “Why are you a horse so much?”

  The stallion lifted his head to look up at the girl as she spoke to him, ears twitching uncertainly. When nothing further was said, the stallion turned his head to look around him, as if to ensure the field was indeed empty of all but the two of them before turning his attention back to the girl in the tree. “What brought that up, Alina?” The horse called up to her after a moment's hesitation, the words malformed as equine mouth tried to form sounds it was not meant to make.

  Alina shrugged and swung her legs, taking another bite of her fruit. “I 'unno.” She replied. “I was just wondering. You always tell me not to change shape where someone could see me.”

  The stallion tossed his head and snorted, then looked back up at the little girl thoughtfully. “I tell you that because you're still too young to take such dangerous chances. When you get older and can hold your new form longer it will be less of a problem. You know this, dear heart.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She replied in an exasperated tone, aware that he was attempting to dodge her question. “But why do you do it?”

  The stallion twitched his ears and turned his head to take a long look at the fields surrounding them, as if hoping for a distraction or interruption to make itself known. When he found none, he finally looked back up at the small girl still resting in the branch over his head. “Well, I suppose I choose to be a horse because its what I am, so I find solace in it.”

  Alina scrunched up her face in concentration. “Soh-, soh-, that word you just said. What does that mean?”

  “Solace.” The stallion replied, sounding the word out slowly. “It means peace and comfort.” He lowered his head to nibble at another of the dropped fruits.

  “What do you need soh-... Peace and comfort for?” Alina asked, refusing to let the subject go so easily. “Did I do something wrong again?"

  The stallion let out a whinny that sounded like a laugh, but his eyes were serious when he looked up at the small girl again. “Of course not, my dear one. You and your mother have brought me only happiness every day you have been a part of my life. But before either of you came there was a lot that went wrong, and I don't know if you're old enough to hear that story yet.”

  “Of course I am!” Alina insisted. “I'll be six in a few more cycles. I'm old enough for anything!”

  The stallion let out another chuckling nicker. “Goodness! So old already? Why, you're nearly an elder, aren't you!” Not amused by his teasing, Alina stared down at the stallion in childish anger. “Alright, dear heart, climb on down from there and I'll tell you about my life before I met your mother.”

  Alina dropped her half-eaten fruit before she hopped down from the branch, then watched the stallion expectantly. The horse's skin began to shiver, then it almost seemed to melt as the animal began to shrink in size. His long, graceful neck was pulled back into his body and his legs buckled as they lost the ability to hold up his shifting bulk. Finally the last of the horse faded away, leaving only a naked man laying beneath the shade of the tree.

  The man's hair was the same blonde of the horse's mane, and his tanned skin was almost as golden as the coat of the stallion he had been. He stood up slowly and wrapped the blanket that had been on his back around his waist for the sake of human decency before he sat back down to lean against the tree. Alina smiled once the process was finished and gave a happy squeal. “Yay, story time!” She exclaimed with childish exuberance before she skipped over and bounced to the ground beside him, leaning against his side.

  The man who had been a horse smiled and wrapped one of his arms loosely about the small girl to give her an affectionate hug. “Yes, time for a story, I suppose. Although I was hoping you would be a little older before you started asking these kinds of questions.” He sighed wearily, but the smile returned to his face when he looked at her. “Remind me, dear one, have I or your mother ever told you about the witchwolves?”

  The girl's face scrunched again as she searched her memory, but the word was completely new to her. “No, what's a witchwolves?”

  Her father chuckled and gave her another squeeze of his arm. “You mean 'what's a witchwolf?' The 's' on the end of 'witchwolves' means more than one.” He corrected her gently. “That's not really what they are, of course, simply what the humans named them. Humans believed them to be the pets of sorcerers or witches in disguise. But since they had no name for themselves, it is what I'll have to use.”

  “Why don't they have a name for themselves?” Alina interrupted.

  The man looked out across the sun-warmed grass, the corner of his mouth pulling downward thoughtfully. “I suppose, it was because they didn't need one. They knew what they were, and so did everything else that mattered. A bird no more needs a name for its kind than a river needs to be told where the ocean is. They simply know.” He turned his head to smile down at the girl, playfully touching the tip of one finger to the end of her nose. “Just like we don't need a name for ourselves. We know what we are, right?”

  Alina giggled as she swatted away his hand. “Because we're not human.” She stated with a tone of authority, the words well worn by repeated use.

  “That is correct, my most precious treasure. We are no more human than the bird or the river.” The man patiently explained. “We merely borrow their form for the sake of convenience and safety.”

  Alina scrunched up her face again, concentrating on the word that had confused her. “Con- con-”

  “Convenience.” He said again. “It means to make something easier. If the humans knew that we could change our forms and that we were related to witchwolves they would make trouble for us.”

  “Con-ven-ance.” She attempted again, looking up to her father for confirmation that she had been correct. “Con-ven-ance makes things easier.”

  Her father looked down at her with a proud and patient smile, the ritual continued. “You're very close. With a bit of practice I think you will learn how to say it correctly. But that's close enough for now.”

  “So what happened to Gramma?” Alina asked, unwilling to let go of the original subject. “Why haven't I met her before?”

  The smile faded away from the man's face and again he turned his gaze away. “The humans happened.” He sighed sadly, eyes unfocusing as his mind slipped back to a time long past. He ran his free hand through his long blond hair before letting it fall back down to his lap. “Just as they happened to so much of Eidra. And yet without them, I wouldn't be here. Neither would you or your mother. You see, humans brought horses and many other animals to this world. And I was
but a colt when Mother found me, no more than a few days old when I fell into a river and drowned. At least, that's what she told me. I have no memory of anything before I awakened on the shore, sopping wet and shivering as I coughed the water from my lungs. But, I suppose you could say that was the moment I was born.”

  “Daddy,” Alina interrupted again. “Isn't a colt a baby horse?”

  “Very good, my dearest, a colt is indeed a baby horse.” He praised her. “A male baby horse. I was an ordinary horse when I was first born. But your grandmother changed me and made me more like her. I gained an intelligence and awareness I never would have had as an ordinary animal.” He gave his daughter another affectionate squeeze. “And unlike you, heart of my heart, I was not born a shifter.”

  “Daddy, if you were just an ordinary baby horse,” Alina spoke up again. “And she was a witchwolves, I mean, wolf, why would she change you?

  The man looked thoughtful again, inhaling slowly as he decided on the right words. “Well, probably because she was lonely. She had lost her own family and was far too old to start a new one. The humans, ever fearful of what they can't understand and control, had put a bounty on the witchwolves. A bounty means that they paid a reward to anyone who killed them, The bounty was far too successful, killing almost every witchwolf and witchmare on Eidra in the span of a few short years. Coincidence alone had saved my mother, but the world is a very lonely place when you're alone and being hunted.”

  Alina frowned, recalling the cautionary tales told to her often by her own mother, warning of the cruelty and evil of humans. Many were the nights growing up when Alina had heard stories about how the humans had come to her world as invaders and colonists, killing most of the native creatures to replace them with their own and turn Eidra into a second Earth. Her mother said that the war had gone on for almost a hundred years before they were finally defeated, but both worlds had been left forever scarred, and the descendants that remained still had all the cruelty of their predecessors.

  “When she saw that I would live,” The man continued. “She named me Werion, and I called her Mother. For years it was just the two of us, avoiding humans and their traps. Then I gained a sister.” Werion paused to chuckle softly. “She, like Mother, had lost the rest of her pack and become a nomad, but she was still very young and a terrible hunter. She was half-mad with hunger when she first saw me, a big, tasty looking horse, so she tried to take a bite out of me!” He emphasized his words with a playful growl and began tickling his daughter's belly, causing her to cry out in delight as she squirmed and tried desperately to push his hand away.

  “Daddy, stop that!” Alina demanded through her laughter. “You know I hate being tickled!”

  Werion continued for a few more seconds before allowing his hand to be shoved aside. “Is that right?” He said in feigned surprise. “I must have forgotten.”

  “Yeah right!” Alina protested. “You never forget anything!”

  Werion's smile began to fade at her words, his gaze dropping to the ground. “No, I suppose I don't at that. But I wish I could.”

  The girl frowned also, regretting her choice of words even though she didn't understand why they had made her father so unhappy. “Daddy, tell me more about the witchwolves.”

  The smile returned to Werion's lips, if not his eyes. “Let's see, where was I. Ah yes, my sister. Her name was Rowna and she was barely grown from a pup herself. Mother convinced her not to eat me, and together the three of us found food. I never did acquire a taste for meat myself, but Mother and Rowna fed well.”

  Alina rested her head against her father's shoulder and closed her eyes to imagine him as a horse running side by side with a large shaggy animal that she thought of as a witchwolf. She then added a second shaggy beast, picturing the three of them as a family. “What happened to her family, daddy?”

  Werion sighed softly. “Well, she told us that it was on her first hunt with her pack that the humans came. It was a joyous day because all of the pups were finally old enough to go out with the adults. They were near no human settlements and none of them had ever even seen a human before, they had only heard about them in stories. But the humans knew that the pack was there. Using fire and long handled spears that they were able to throw long distances, the witchwolves were driven into a trap and killed. Only Rowna and one of her brothers escaped, but her brother got trampled when the two of them attempted to hunt for themselves, leaving her alone. The last of the spring pups and the last of her family. Mother and Rowna were the last of their kind.”

  Werion fell silent, lost again to the past, until Alina finally shook him lightly to bring his attention back to the present. “Is that why she became your sister?”

  “I suppose it is at that. The three of us made for a strange little pack, but those were mostly happy days that we spent together .Running through the forest, playing in meadows, sleeping curled up together blanketed by the night sky. I wish it could have lasted longer.”

  “What happened?” Alina asked softly, almost not wanting to know the answer. For a while there was only silence, and she wondered if her voice had been too soft for him to hear.

  “Alina, my precious jewel.” Werion said at last, turning his head to look away from her. “Do you know why I spend some nights outside? When you and your mother are forced to hide from me?”

  “Mommy says it's because you hafta fight with a monster and we have to make sure your chains are good and tight so the monster can never carry you away from us.” Alina replied with a nod. “Because you might get lost and not find your way home. She says you always win eventually and keep us safe, but we have to hide so you don't have to worry about us and can focus on beating the monster.”

  A faint smile played briefly across Werion's lips before disappearing again. “Well, it is something like that.” He turned to look at her and the smile returned. “You see, when your grandmother saved me, she did it by sharing a part of herself. For another wolf, this would be nothing but beneficial.” Alina opened her mouth to interrupt but a raised finger from her father silenced her. “Beneficial. It means useful or helpful in some way, dear heart. But as I was not a wolf but a horse, usually prey to a wolf, there were... problems.”

  His smile again faded as he began to concentrate on choosing his words carefully. “You know how I say that I ache all the time? Well, that's part of it. As I grew older, the pains began to come. Some nights I could do nothing but lay on the ground and endure them, my coat drenched in sweat. Knowing nothing of horses herself except that they were used by the humans, Mother assumed it was a normal part of my growth and did what she could to comfort me until I fell to sleep. Then they went away by morning.”

  “Like growing pains?” The little girl asked.

  “Yes, something like that, but these pains grew stronger as I grew older. I learned to endure them over time and by the time it became a constant ache, I was able to ignore it for the most part. I wish that was the worst I had to endure from Mother changing me, I would accept it and gladly. But a few years later came the change. The, um, monster your mother referred to. You see, my dearest one, I become the monster. It is a part of me.”

  Alina looked up at her father in wide eyed astonishment as she tried to make sense of his words. Her own father, who she adored beyond anything else in her small world, was telling her that he was the very monster that she had come to fear and hate. Memories flashed across her mind. Memories of nights spent huddled close against her mother in a small dark room with her eyes squeezed shut as if to block out the horrible sounds that seeped under the door. Memories of her mother covering her mouth when she cried. Memories of whispered assurances that it would be alright, that her father would protect them both and fight off the monster come morning, but they had to stay quiet and offer him their strength in silent prayer. Then came memories of her father's brilliant smile as he lifted her into his arms and spun her around, both of them laughing. Memories of scraped knees being kissed all better, of nightmares being so
othed away, of laying together in the sun-warmed grass, making animals out of clouds.

  Her father was her protector; her shield against harm. He fought off the darkness and chased away the monsters. How could he possibly be one himself? She began to shake her head in disbelief, sure that she had somehow misunderstood.

  “When the change came, I turned into... some kind of creature that I had no control over. This...thing... it wanted nothing but to kill. Kill anything and everything it could. The creature somehow found its way into a human village that first night. So many innocent lives...” Werion's skin began to grow pale and Alina worried he would be ill, but he continued his story. “After that, humans became the creature's preferred prey. And humans do not like to be preyed on. At least once a cycle my body would be taken over by this creature, and it would hunt, slaughtering humans for nothing but sport and laughing at their efforts to trap or kill it. A cruel and vile thing, leaving me with the memory of its terrible deeds when morning came and it was forced to retreat. It was as if it fed not only on the pain of its victims, but mine as well.”

  A small tear shimmered as it began to roll down Werion's cheek, leaving a trail for those that soon followed. “And there seemed to be nothing I could do to stop it.” His voice was choked as he spoke, tormented by his past deeds. “Banding together, the humans of several villages scoured the land, searching for me. In my place, they found Mother and Rowna. And what they did to them...” The words faded away and he swallowed loudly. “I... I found them. One morning after the change. What was... left...” A hard shudder ran through the man's body and he closed his eyes, unable to continue.

  Alina felt sorry for bringing up his past at all. As her father curled himself into a tight, sobbing ball, she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and thought the silent prayers meant to lend him her strength. Werion's crying continued for several more minutes, but as it finally subsided, he reached up to cover her hand with his own. “My precious darling, I'm so sorry. I should never have allowed myself to wallow like that. Especially not in front of you.” Sitting up again, he wiped his face with his other hand, clasping her tiny fingers gently. “Please forgive me.”