Page 9 of Red in Tooth and Claw

I’m not sure how long I played. A few hours, probably. Eventually I was trundled off to Tallis and Zara’s tent, my lids drooping with sleep. Zara bundled me into a blanket, and I passed out as soon as I lay down.

The next morning my eyes were gritty. Next to my head, someone had piled my clothes—clean and mostly fresh-smelling. My boots still had a whiff to them, but nothing that wouldn’t fade in a few days, a week at most, I hoped. I was alone in the tent, the sun well and truly up in the sky. I got dressed quickly, getting back into my Settlement garb. Then I sweet-talked a cup of tea off someone, and a roll stuffed with venison and potato, before wandering over to Anna’s, where I found Jesse sitting up in his bunk, bright and alert.

“How are you feeling?” I leaned against the wall of the wagon, sipping my tea and acting careless. The other bunk still held the injured man, his bandage fresh, but otherwise unchanged.

“Fair to middling.” Jesse rubbed a hand over his eyes and fished his glasses out of his shirt pocket. “Better than my roommate.”

I stole another look at the man. “How’s he doing?”

“Every time he wakes up, he screams,” Jesse said. “Thrashes about. Seems to think he’s still fleeing for his life from whatever got him.”

“The hungry ghost,” I said.

Jesse shifted uncomfortably. “You believe in ghosts?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’ve never seen one, and I don’t believe in borrowing trouble.”

Jesse chuckled. “You usually have enough on your own.”

I ignored his statement, mostly because it was true. “Speaking of trouble, how much are we in?”

Jesse slumped back against the wall of the wagon. “It depends on several factors.”

“Are any of those factors how good of a tale we spin?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “I would think that might be the main factor, yes.”

“I’m amenable.” I toyed with the edge of my mug, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Are you?”

Jesse grimaced. “I’m not the best liar.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’ve got no issue with us doing it; it just doesn’t seem to be one of my talents.”

“You’ve got to commit.” I put a hand over my heart. “When you lie to someone, you have to believe it, at least for that moment. It’s the most real thing in the world as it’s leaving your lips.” I dropped my hand. “Course it helps if you don’t have much respect for the person you’re fibbing to.”

A slow half smile appeared, lighting up Jesse’s face. “Then I don’t think we’ll have much of a problem, will we?”

“No, sir, we will not.”

He took a final glance at the man in the cot. “Then let’s get out of here. Please.”

An hour later, we were deposited back at the edges of Settlement land. Zara and Tallis watched us from atop their horses, the two we borrowed tethered to their saddles. Tallis’s dog, Roon, rested at their feet.

Both Tallis and Zara sat comfortably, looking for all the world as if they were born in the saddle.

Zara flicked her chin at the forest ahead of us. “Go that way and you’ll soon be back with your people.” Her tone said that she couldn’t see why we were going back. Not that we’d been invited to stay in the Rover camp, but I’m fair certain that in Zara’s mind, we would be better off on our own. I translated for Jesse.

“Don’t wander off.” Tallis directed this at me, which got my back up. He seemed to be implying that if we did veer off, it would be entirely my doing. He grinned. “There are more skunks out there.”

I scratched my temple using my middle finger. “Got it.” From the laughter dancing in Tallis’s eyes, I’m certain he caught the symbolism. “Ready?” I said to Jesse.

Jesse nodded. One of the Rover kids had found him a good-sized stick to use for balance. He was still supposed to stay off the ankle, though it looked much better today.

I adjusted my pack on my back. “We appreciate your hospitality,” I said, adjusting my pack before offering them my half of a Rover farewell. “Ride easy.”

“Fair winds,” they replied, finishing the saying.

And with that, we turned into the forest, Jesse limping, and me hoping that the Rover saying stayed true.

“A rabbit.” HisBen layered a lot of things into those two words, most of them disbelief. Stuckley smirked. We’d been met with foul winds in the form of the guard Davens, who found us at the edge of the forest. After a quick stop at the Still so Miss Moon could check Jesse’s ankle, we landed directly in HisBen’s sitting room.

The sitting room was small but had its own fireplace, a squat love seat, and a stuffed chair covered in so much gaudy gold embroidery it practically glowed in the light. A low wooden table shone with polish, a small writing desk overflowed with papers, and a case was full of books, most of them religious in nature. A thick hand-knotted rug was under my feet. Behind HisBen, there was another door, which I assumed led to his bedroom.

Dillard sat in his gaudy throne and turned a gimlet eye on us. Stuckley loomed behind him like an eager vulture, his face blandly beatific. Like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, as Pops would say.

Miss Moon had escorted us and was hovering inside the door, Miss Honeywell right behind her.

“Thank you, Miss Moon, Miss Honeywell. This will do nicely.” It was a dismissal if ever I heard one. Both women seemed reluctant to leave, though I suspected for very different reasons. Still, they left without argument, Miss Honeywell closing the door behind her gently. I bet she was going to try to listen at the keyhole. I would have.

Stuckley and HisBen stared at me, the clock in the sitting room loud in the silence. Oh, right. The fictitious rabbit. “I’m sure that’s what I saw, Your Benevolence. Our traps were empty, and here it was—”

“You left the path for a single rabbit.”

I hated when people interrupted me, but I kept my jaw shut tight and my gaze on the rug.

“Which you not only didn’t get, but it means we lost two days, minimum, of work from you, and your partner was injured. Not to mention the wasted time of the guard who went to look for you.” He scowled at me. “?‘Give thyself, and the Shining God will smile down upon you’ aren’t just some words in a dusty book to me, child. Your choices took , Faolan. They didn’t give.”

Behind him, a smile slowly unraveled on Stuckley’s smug face. HisBen sighed. “I’m disappointed, Faolan. In you, but also in myself. You are a member of my congregation, and I’ve obviously failed you. Due to our failure, Jesse won’t be able to work for at least a week, which means you won’t be able to, either.”

My gaze snapped up at that. “You’re not giving us new partners?”

For the slightest second, an expression of annoyance crossed his face, but it was quickly buried under a kindly demeanor. “Do you think, Mr.Kelly, that anyone would want such a reckless partner?” He shook his head before I could answer.

Why do people always ask questions that they don’t actually want you to answer? Just spit out what you want to say and be done with it.

“No one would want to take you on, and I don’t blame them.” He turned to Jesse. “A week of kitchen duty and helping in the classroom—anything Esther can find for you that you can do sitting, understand? Once you’re well enough, I’ll pray for guidance to see if you require further punishment.” He said the last gravely but almost like it wasn’t up to him at all. As if his god would make the decisions and Dillard was just the lowly go-between.

I had to drop my gaze to hide my grimace.

Jesse nodded at Dillard, appearing contrite. I must admit he was better at it than I was.

“You must pray for guidance,” Stuckley said, his voice full of pomp and snooty righteousness. It was the kind of tone that fair begged for a bunch of fives right in the smeller. I had a mighty good rabbit punch, too.

“For forgiveness,” Stuckley continued, working himself up. “Not just from our God, but for the worry and ire you caused His Benevolence here.”

Forget his smeller. I’d go right for his eye. Leave him in half mourning. Actually, I was feeling mighty generous. I would go for both eyes and grant him full mourning. Two black shiners out of the goodness of my heart.

“Lots of praying,” Dillard said, voicing his agreement. “To hope that greater wisdom will be granted to you, Jesse.”

He was laying it on Jesse awful thick, and it got my blood up. My mouth shot off before I could think better of it. “But he didn’t do anything wrong! I chased the rabbit. I scared the skunk. Me. ”

Dillard’s eyes went cold. “And he followed you.” Dillard shook his head. “Jesse has been here longer, he’s older. He knows better. You? I was going to give you privy duty, but now I’m of a mind that you need more guidance than that.”

I saw Jesse’s hand twitch.

“Sir?” I asked carefully.

Dillard clasped his hands together in his lap, his jovial mask back in place. “Penitence and humility are cornerstones to my faith, Mr.Kelly. We are but flawed creatures, however, and sometimes we need a reminder. I think you could benefit from a little penitence.”

Next to me, I heard Jesse swallow.

I hadn’t seen every nook and cranny of the Settlement as of yet, but even if I had, I would have missed the Box since it was situated outside the palisade wall, behind the Settlement buildings. As I hadn’t been to that side of the palisade, I hadn’t had the privilege of inspecting the Penitent Box. I was getting that privilege now.

I suppose it could be called a shed if one was feeling particularly generous.

I was not feeling generous.

The shed walls were thick planking, letting in only a few cracks of light to illuminate the interior, such as it was. The rough-hewn floor would probably give me splinters, but at least I wouldn’t have to sit on the ground. The only thing in the shed was a bucket and an embroidered scene right out of one of Dillard’s sermons that hung on one of the walls. It was of a large sun, some idyllic green fields, with words wrapping neatly around the edges: Benevolence shines down on the penitent. Hallowed be the Humble.

I hated it.

Miss Moon ushered me into the shed, her expression blank but her words gentle. “Come on, now, Faolan. The sooner started, the sooner done.”

Miss Honeywell dogged her steps, her expression concerned. She slid in front of Miss Moon, stopping to straighten my lapels, like I was her child and company was coming for dinner. “Now, Faolan, I know this all must seem too much to you, but you need to trust Gideon on this.” She patted my cheek with a smile. “His Benevolence is such a wise man—we’re so lucky to be here in his glory.”

I honestly had no response to that, so I kept my mouth shut.

She squeezed my shoulders. “You must give yourself over to your punishment. Don’t fight it but submit to wisdom greater than yours. It’s the only way.” She nodded once, sharply, as if she’d just imparted something wise and helpful, and not meaningless sayings. “Your boots, please.”

I froze, my heart stuttering. “My boots?”

“You can’t go in the Box with them, silly,” she said, as though it was a great joke. “I’ll also need your hat and trousers. You may keep your shirt and long underwear.” She saw my expression and sobered. “Now, Faolan, think of it as less of a punishment and more as a little lesson. The Shining God gives everything you need. Your hat, your boots? Those are just things.”

Things I needed to stay warm. Things I needed to live.

Her eyes went dreamy for a moment. “I had a lot of things before I came here. Before I met Gideon.” She sighed happily, then narrowed her eyes as she snapped back from wherever she’d been. “And I gave them all up. We’re all equal in the Shining God’s eyes, Faolan. You need to remember that.”

There was no arguing with her. My heart in my throat, I handed over my possessions, hoping no one checked the rags in the toes of my boots. I could not lose Pops’s watch. I silently cursed myself for not hiding it earlier.

Once she had my clothes in hand, Miss Honeywell promised she’d deliver them directly to my bunk. Then she breezed away, her job apparently done.

Miss Moon’s face was still blank, but the corner of her mouth was pinched. “No more dawdling, now. Into the Box.”

I stepped into the shed, noting that it was small enough that I could touch the walls with my fingertips if I stood in the middle. I would hate to think of someone of Jesse’s stature being locked in such a thing.

Miss Moon gripped the edge of the door. “There’s a slot at the bottom that latches from the outside. Once a day someone will come and bring your rations and take your bucket. Penitents aren’t allowed to speak to anyone, so if it’s reported back to HisBen, your time will be extended. You won’t be released early, so I don’t recommend faking illness or tipping over your bucket.”

I hadn’t thought of tipping my bucket, but if I had, I would have instantly discarded the idea. Dillard wouldn’t give one fig if I sat in my own waste.

Miss Moon’s expression was flat, but her hands were clasped tightly in her skirts. “Davens and Harris are on the palisades now. They’ll be keeping an eye on the Box until Lawrence and Smythe take over in a few hours.”

Davens and Harris didn’t care for me—they’d made their feelings very clear. Lawrence and Smythe were the more lax of the guards. Lawrence liked a good joke, and Smythe liked a good belt of whiskey.

“Do you understand?” Miss Moon’s knuckles had turned white where she clasped her skirts. She was mighty afraid, though for me or for herself, I wasn’t sure.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I understand.”

She hesitated, and when she spoke, it was in a whisper. “I recommend keeping your head down, your mouth shut, and getting out of here as soon as you’re able.”

I tilted my head to the side, sure that she was trying to tell me something, but she shook her head and shut the door instead. “Good luck, Mr.Kelly.” Either she’d said the words softly, or the door had muffled them—I wasn’t sure which.

I sat down on the ground, tailor style, and leaned against the wall as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. If I was going to be stuck here, I might as well rest.

A creature in the darkness howled and I startled awake, shivering. Fear licked up my spine, and I stilled, breathing heavy into the sudden quiet. I must have dozed off at some point, because moonlight lit the cracks of the shed.

Now, I was no stranger to howling. Most things that make that kind of ruckus won’t bother a body unless they have to. Back at my cabin, sometimes I liked to listen to the wolves singing as I lay out under the stars. They wouldn’t cause me problems beyond going after our animals if it had been a hard winter. Foxes scream sometimes in the night, and it’s unsettling for sure, but not dangerous. Elk bellows…well, they would liquify anyone’s innards if you didn’t know what they were.

Still, they were part of a chorus I was used to. Eerie, but familiar.

I couldn’t identify the creature I’d heard, though I’d heard the sound before. It was the raspy howl that had woken me up the first night I was there.

And it was closer.

Shivering, I pulled my shirt tighter around me, reminding myself that nothing except for a very determined bear was going to get me out of this shed. They might have the capability to shuck me like an oyster, but that wasn’t what a bear did unless threatened.

None of that logic made me feel any better. I wrapped my arms around my legs, my gaze locked on the door of the shed.

Then I heard a noise. At first, I thought I was imagining it. A faint scuffing sound, like footsteps, close to the shack. Had someone come to check in on me? I wanted to call out, but I remembered Miss Moon’s warning. I locked my jaw.

Featherlight taps on the wood behind me made me startle. I leaned closer to hear what it was. My ear was pressed against the wood when something slammed into it, banging hard. I scrambled back, putting myself to the other side of the minuscule shed. My breath sawed out of me, sweat chilling on my skin.

Very faintly, I heard a snicker. Someone was out there trying hard to scare me. To get me to scream so the guards would report me. Rage pulsed through my blood as I pressed my lips shut. I tried to calm my speeding heart, breathing slowly through my nose.

Another slam against the side. Then back to the gentler tapping, the noise moving down the side of the Box, getting lower and lower, making me strain to listen.

This time, something smashed against the side, much harder than before. Like a body had been thrown against the outside wall of the shed, rattling the wood. Even prepared for it, trying to not give Amos or whoever it was the satisfaction of rattling me, I found it hard to not jump out of my skin.

I held myself tight as I heard a faint scuffle. A wet noise followed, reminding me of the way it sounded when my old dog, Ranger, ate.

It sounded like a creature outside was feeding, but on what? A scent wafted in from between the slats—the tang of iron and offal. I’d helped Pops gut deer and other things before, and it wasn’t a smell you forgot. I tucked my nose into my shirt, grateful for the lingering scent of the skunk. The odor grew stronger, making my stomach twist, and I was glad no one had brought me food today and that my belly was empty.

I sat there shaking for several minutes, my arms tight around my knees, and listened. Time ticked past. My nerves wound tighter with each breath.

A loud scratching noise cut through the silence, and I jumped. The noise was very like an animal with claws had raked them down the door.

I swallowed hard, feverishly trying to come up with explanations. You could mimic the sound, surely? Nails in your fist? A rake? But why would anyone do that? Would they go to such lengths to get me to break penitence?

Dillard might be testing me, or even Stuckley, Amos, or one of the guards…but I’d also heard that howl. Heard an animal feeding. Smelled blood and death.

Scratch.

I covered my mouth with my hand and squeezed my eyes shut. I may have been shaking like a spring rabbit, but rabbits were quiet critters, and I was tucked deep in my burrow.

It was sniffing around the door flap. Could it smell my fear? I was certain it could.

A clawing noise, like it was digging at the door.

I wanted it to be a person. I wanted it to be Amos or Stuckley trying to make me break penitence. Anything would be better than thinking I might be next. How easy it would be, how quick, going from being Faolan to nothing but offal and a tang of iron if something with claws wanted it to be so.

Tears leaked from my wide-open eyes, for I dared not close them.

I did not want to die.

Maybe I could scare it? I didn’t have anything I could bang, and stomping wouldn’t do much. The walls were thick enough that my tiny fists wouldn’t make much of a ruckus. But I had to try.

I scrambled to my feet, smacking my palms hard against the door, yelling as loud as I could.

The creature roared, a sound of challenge.

I roared back, but it sounded like a mouse squeaking at a barn cat. Terror quaked through my bones as I stood there, my mind spinning for answers while fear sweat seeped from my pores.

Finally, I did the only thing I could think of.

I sang.

Which made me feel fair foolish, but what else could I do? I had very little in the way of options. My voice was pleasant enough, but more importantly, it was loud . I knew how to sing to the back of the room. Hoping to scare the critter away, I belted out the first song I could think of, an old folk song Pops had taught me. I sang about the harvest, my love leaving, and the turning of the seasons.

As I sang, the creature quieted.

When I hit the last note, it chirped at me. A curious kind of noise. It hadn’t scratched the entire time I’d been singing. Licking my lips, I pulled up another song to mind, this time a dancing tune. I belted it out, my hands keeping rhythm on the rough wood of the wall. Again, the beast remained still.

So I picked another tune. Then another.

I sang and sang until I didn’t hear the creature scratching every time I stopped. By the end, I was down to sailor shanties and pub songs—both of which were grand, but the kind prim folk frown upon due to the bawdy nature of the lyrics.

Rain came sometime in the night. The drops pattering down, gentle at first, but they were pounding at the wood after. I stopped singing then, though by that point I’d been going for a couple of hours. I heard no other sounds from the other side of the wood beyond the elemental sound of rain.

Whatever had been there was gone.

When dawn peeked through the cracks, my hands were bruised. The wood had torn into them. Faint bloody prints lined the back of the door. My throat was raw, and what little water they’d given me was long gone.

But I was alive. That’s not nothing.

I fell asleep to the merry clucks of the Settlement chickens as the world woke around me.