The Empty Mirror
Chapter 36: Parasites in the darkness
"Bumping into sounds like a chance find; the truth is that I have stripped. My whole existence has been marked by theft, which leads me to deliberate whether I am truly a criminal or just a full-fledged outlaw. Besides, it's not as if I can get out of the woods on a regular basis. In addition to the unpredictability of the foliage, I lack the financial means to make a getaway and outrun the canines sniffing both ways. The mob's influence extends across multiple cities, and if they were to catch me, I would surely be subjected to interrogation.
The debt is enormous, and the murder of Esme's father has attracted unparalleled attention for its brutality, making me an easy target. Though two years have passed and I do not believe his anger burns with the same intensity it once did, I am confident that the time will come for us to journey to another city, perhaps another continent if we have the resources, to begin a new life. I fervently hope that the bad times will soon be over” - Dougal concluded.
"Even Esme has caught prey to satiate our stomachs, and it is she who gathers the mushrooms for the soup. She has descended to the point of hunting rodents. We can affirm that it is nature itself that provides for us. Moreover, I long fervently for survival to witness the glorious day when we leave this forest.
If we ever leave this land, this continent, I long to see my daughter radiant and betrothed, to delight in seeing my grandchildren enjoying themselves in their merriment. All I wish for my daughter is a reborn existence at Dougal's side; he has the capacity to bring her joy, he is a man of virtue, and I have no doubt of that” - said Hilda with a touch of melancholy, recalling memories and longing for a more prosperous tomorrow.
"After all our reflections on nature, perhaps it would be wise to turn our faith to the god of progresos” - pondered Esme musingly.
"Don't even mention him in jest; my faith lies solidly in our patriarch, the god who tames pestilence. He shields us from disease and deflects tragedy by blessing our food" - Dougal replied, clasping his hands in a worshipful gesture as if in prayer. Hilda nodded disapprovingly, sharing his belief.
"I apologise, I do not mean to undermine the mercy of our redeemer in relation to the plague.... On the other hand, Giselle, in whom do you place your faith? In what divinity do you trust?" - Esme gently inquired.
"I couldn't say" - I replied cautiously, aware of my limited understanding of deities, as I had never held deeply to faith. Simply put, being human, I was unsure of deities.
Dougal, Esme and Hilda lapsed into a charged silence, until Esme broke it with these words: "You are a traveller, therefore, you must be committed to some form of devotion to the god you honour. You cannot undermine your commitment with false idolatries to other divinities. I believe that was the premise, though I cannot say for sure. I don't know your creed, but I have heard of certain congregations that express their faith in ways similar to what I have mentioned.
Of course, our faith is rooted exclusively in the god who rules the plague. From my earliest childhood, my mother instilled in me the importance of placing my trust in God, just as I do now. Dougal also professes the same faith, presumably influenced by his grandmother, although I cannot say for sure. What I am trying to say is that the vast majority of the continent, Bafranbu included, trusts in the god who rules the plague. It is the predominant faith, so I hope you will be faithful compatriot," Esme explained with dedication.
After this talk, Esme lifted up a suitcase that rested in a shadowy corner under the bed. It was as black as a closed night, hiding its secrets from the scrutinising eye, but between its barely half-opened jaws, I glimpsed in its entrails the belongings and resources that had been her accomplice in her escape. Among the few belongings that timidly peeked out, a few opaque glass jars stood out, guardians of an olive oil that betrayed its Mediterranean origin.
From among the jumble of objects, he extracted a quill pen, an inkwell brimming with black ink, and a rough, worn parchment, whose grooves and folds told stories of past travels. Slowly, he closed the suitcase and left it in its hiding place.
With Dougal's assistance, he began to draw a plan outlining the escape route from the forest. He used symbols to depict the humble hut and the boundaries of the leafy wilderness. The passage, winding like the will of angels, extended beyond the tree-lined confines, tracing an intricate path until it reached the city, marked by a circle. Although the drawing was labyrinthine, its essence unfolded clear and diaphanous, like a spring in the desert of uncertainty.
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"I have sketched a map that will lead you out of this tangled forest, but I sincerely wish you would prolong your stay a little longer. Your presence is balm for the soul and gives us a sense of security in the company of a skilled traveller like you.
Though to the naked eye you still look like a child, with your wavy hair and your cloak around you, there is in you a hint of eternal return, a mysterious resonance of the past," Esme said in an affable, leisurely tone, like one who unravels ancient secrets.
"Of course, we will not let you depart without first filling your saddlebags with a just reward; how would you like, traveller, to share with us some of the fables woven by the whispers of the forest or the echoes of the lands? In return, we will give you sanctuary under our roof and share of our modest provisions. Besides, my mother, Hilda, could instruct you in the mysteries of faith in the face of pestilence," proclaimed Esma with a witticism.
"I'm not entirely convinced... I can consider it, but I have my doubts" - I hesitated, locked in an internal debate between caution and curiosity that fueled my desire to discover more about the deity that rules over the plague. However, the promise of escape from the forest anomaly whispered tantalisingly cacophonously in my ears.
"Ponder on that decision, Giselle. Dougal and my mother will welcome my proposal," Esme replied serenely, while Dougal and Hilda nodded hesitantly, shrouded in uncertainty.
"I'll consider it..." - I murmured as Esme, with meticulous care, picked up the map, folded the parchment neatly, and stowed it and the quill and inkwell in the bosom of the suitcase.
I shared with them a fable of my wanderings, recounting the discovery of a lake of clear water lying near a winding path, whose course led down a steep hillside. I carefully avoided the more disturbing details of the mysterious anomaly present, so as not to sow superfluous concerns or provoke improper questioning. I described it simply as a watery oasis worthy of admiration.
Yet, despite my words, they were all evidently reluctant to undertake the search for such an enigmatic spot, arguing that they already had a source of water from an ancient well, the quality of which, though not crystal clear, was sufficient for their needs. They seemed immune to the charm of my story, and I almost suspected that my anecdotes were of no interest to them, were it not for the recurring signs of understanding and sympathy that Esme lavished on me with her compassionate gaze.
As the hours and days passed, with Dougal's diligent help, we improvised a small mattress out of scraps of cloth and old jargon, placing it discreetly away from the rest of the household. We also arranged a chair for my solace. Since my arrival in the modest hut, I have taken over almost all of Dougal's hunting responsibilities, using contrived ruses instead of the direct and accurate approach he used to take down prey with his bare hands.
The ruse is an ingenious design, woven with thin, docile branches that intertwine expertly to form a kind of prison. In the first set, we choose long, bending branches, capable of bending your soul without breaking it. These are meticulously woven into a square or rectangular lattice, creating slits wide enough to allow the rodents to cross the threshold.
Once the original structure is complete, we add layers of dried leaf litter and small twigs to veil the ruse and make it appetising to the rodent creatures. We add bait in its bosom, selected pieces, to lure the unwary. When one of the rodents ventures into the ruse in pursuit of the lure, the ductility of the branches allows the ruse to be compressed with alacrity, imprisoning the animal in its bosom. The branches' tessitura prevents the prey from becoming unhinged once it has been captured in its jaws.
Such beasts as rabbits and squirrels were, no doubt, lean and palatable meat in our eyes, of course, provided they were successfully caught and processed by the deft hand of Esme and Hilda. As my skills in such noble work were quite rudimentary, my expertise reduced to the imprint of months in the roughness of the wilderness and the rough fabric of the castle, Esme and Hilda rejoiced in their task. Meanwhile, Dougal was the executioner of the alimarias, with cold, grim steel.
It is worth noting that throughout my wanderings in the woods, my sustenance was reduced to nuts and mushrooms. As if I were in a trance, I was constrained by the inexorable limitation of not being able to kill the alimarias, in fact I had never actually performed such a task; I only pinned them down and tied their legs with a frayed rope to be slaughtered.
Dougal, however, seemed to experience some discomfort, feeling that his role as a brave guardian was overshadowed by my presence. Although at times his attitude was resentful, he genuinely acknowledged my assistance in guarding Esma and Hilda. He even suggested: "Would you be so kind as to keep us informed about possible dangers or suspicious activities in the vicinity? Your insight and vigilance could foresee threats.
In the meantime, we were collecting nuts, mushrooms and even insects such as ants and grubs for nourishment. I was not responsible for drawing water from the well, as that was always Hilda's job, while Esma was pre-eminent in the kitchen. For our part, I hunted with the help of Dougal, who primarily looked after our safety and protected us. And we were grateful for the sense of protection afforded by the forest, where abnormality had long been absent.
I also worked with Hilda in repairing and guarding the hut, thus helping to safeguard our fortifications, while she and Esme kept the compound neat and tidy. At times, Hilda would suggest to me: "It would be of inestimable help if you would take charge of gathering wood for the water while we are engaged in other occupations. Keeping the fire alive to ensure clean water for everyone would be of the utmost importance.
On one occasion, Hilda fell ill with a cold, and everyone implored the protection of the god who was said to be the guardian against plagues. As he seemed absorbed in devout prayer and shared the faith, Esme said longingly: "It would be of great value if you could assist us in gathering herbs and medicinal plants in the forest. Knowledge of their properties and applications could prove crucial in medical emergencies such as this.
I managed to find some peppermint, famous for its decongestant and soothing properties, which relieved the nasal obstruction and discomfort associated with the cold. I also obtained some chamomile, which contributed to Hilda's early improvement. As I shared stories about the bow and the buckler, as well as nut and mushroom picking, my narratives paled in comparison to those of a globetrotter.
Esma offered me empathy with a haughty nose and pursed lips, in a game between us that I emulated with flushed cheeks. However, despite the serenity of the days that had passed, I never found comfort in the midst of the doom, feeling like an intruder who is looked at with morbid curiosity and more like a despised parasite out of place...