“Halt!” said the Mother.
“Let me go!” he said and fought her binding with all the force he could muster. He succeeded in taking one step toward the women. Ha! he crowed in triumph.
“Enough,” said the Mother, and Hunger found he could not move. A smoke of confusion clouded his eyes, and he knew no more.
Hunger woke on the cave floor. He smelled the women-Purity and River. Smelled the coals of the dead fire. And remembered Russet, his son.
His grief rose like a tide.
“You have a choice,” said the Mother.
He wanted to strike her, but could not. “I will not listen to you.”
“Quiet.”
Hunger fell in on himself.
“Pursue this course and I will eat them all. There are three others here in this stomach. Live to free them. I’ve given you my promise. I am not cruel. Obey me and reap your reward.”
He could not trust this creature. “When will you free them?”
“When your loyalty is thoroughly tested. And then, after a time of service, I will free you.”
“You lie.”
The Mother shook her head. “Prove to me your loyalty. Stop fighting me. You will see I am just.”
He could be freed if he could only fix the collar.
“No,” the Mother said. “Do you think I did not know your plans the very moment you removed the collar from the woman? Do you think I was ignorant of the man washing himself or the burning son? Did you think you could hide your thoughts from me?”
“Yes,” said Hunger in defeat. And he knew it was hopeless. It had been hopeless from the beginning. He should not have resisted her.
His stupidity had cost him his son.
“Your people will prosper under my hand. Not be left to fend for themselves as happened with your last, inattentive master. I will make your lands fertile. I will fight your battles and keep you safe. Serve me and all your kindred will flourish.”
He could not die. He could not disobey. He could not even hide his thoughts. What was left to him? He was indeed a dog on a chain. A horse corralled for the breaking. The Mother, this creature, whatever it was, held more power than any human. More power than the Divines. She was as far above him as a man was above a beast. Besides, he wasn’t even a man anyway. He was something else-a soup of souls and stone. Why then should he not obey?
Perhaps she was just. Perhaps she was doing nothing more than teaching the dog that it was a dog, not a master. And in that thought he saw a clear path, a small glimmering of hope-he would be her best servant. He would meet her every whim. He would be the dog that the master grew to love and called to feed at his lap. And by so doing he would save his wife and daughter and remaining son.
He would serve this creature with all his mind, might, and strength. “Will you forgive me?” he asked.
“Forgive? That word has no meaning. But I shall give you one more chance to prove yourself. And in time you may win my trust.”
“Tell me then what you desire.”
“We shall continue what we’ve begun,” she said. “Gathering the ones that stink. Yours was a good plan, even if wrought with the wrong intent.”
He felt a lightening in his mood. He had chosen the right course.
“The one you led here,” she said. “You will take her and see if she is fit to lead or ripe for the harvest. And then you shall find the rest.”
“As you command,” he said and turned back toward the mouth of the cave. The last moments of his son’s existence played before his mind-all his cursed fault. He should never have fought her.
Never.
And he would never do it again; he was the Mother’s now, body and soul, and he would demonstrate that to her.
____________________
Sugar found the monster to be one of the easiest things she’d ever tracked. A stupid beast that could not navigate well enough in the darkness to avoid the branches. But when there was light enough to see, she realized that the branches being broken were not those that someone would accidentally step on and break, nor were they ones that would break easily as someone brushed past. No, they had been broken on purpose. She concluded River knew someone was following and had done this to leave a trail.
But Sugar now looked down at the spot where an immense rotted log had recently lain and was not so sure. Worms and grubs wriggled in the soil of the impression. This log had obviously been moved aside, but it was too large for River to do such a thing. Sugar attempted to push it, but could not move it an inch. How could River have moved it as she was carried along by that beast?
To Sugar’s left rose a steep hill. On her right the ground descended to a cluster of hundred-foot bald cypress, their massive knees rising out of the dark tea water. A muskrat swam through a layer of duckweed out to a clear slip of deeper water.
She wondered if the creature had taken River into that mess.
Lilies, bog bean, and goat willow choked the far side. The place breathed with the croaking of frogs and stank of things rotting in the water. But she knew that it was full of far more than frogs and stink and scum. She’d find snakes, leeches, and snapping turtles there in abundance.
A chip of something small and dark fell from the cypress trees above. Sugar looked up and saw a handful of grayfans, large game fowl that fanned their tail feathers when threatened. They stood in the branches above, pecking for the cypress seeds. More dark chips fell and she realized it wasn’t bark, but grayfan droppings.
She stepped aside in disgust and walked toward the swamp to see if perhaps the mud at the edges would show any footprints, but as she did so a crack sounded up the hill.
The creature had gone up the hill, not into the swamp. She turned and followed the noise, glad to leave the stink and the rising mosquitoes.
A few paces later the tree cover gave way and there at her feet a trail of footprints led through the dew-soaked undergrowth, clear as you please up the hill.
Sugar followed the trail back into the trees, always going up, finding scuffled leaves here and there or matted grass, until she came to a small stream. She stopped and looked about, then saw a footprint in the stream itself. She followed the stream uphill to a slight ridge of rock. She crossed the stream and found herself standing in front of the mouth of a cave, a cool breeze blowing out of the darkness and into her face. She immediately crouched and moved to one side so she did not darken the entrance with her silhouette.
She wondered if this was a natural cave or one made by the stone-wights. If it was one of the ancient ruins, did that mean this creature was connected with them? Many had been lost in the stone-wight ruins. All of Sugar’s life she had been warned to stay clear of them, for who knew what dark thing waited within? But this is where the creature had taken Mother, and so this is where she would have to go. She looked down the hill. Only someone standing right where she was could see this opening. And now she’d wished the monster had taken River to the swamp. In a swamp you could at least see what you were about. Here the creature might be only a dozen paces away, watching her from the darkness.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Sugar listened. She could hear nothing but the trickling water. She waited for a long time, but nothing stirred. The breeze meant this would be a long cave. It was quite possible that the monster’s lair was hidden deep within.
She would have to go in, if only a small distance. Whomever she brought back would want to know what lay just inside this entrance so they might avoid a pit or slope. Any information she could give them would be better than leaving them to charge in completely blind.