The lives had melted together for the elder but the younger still marveled at each new one. New experiences, new faces, new places. The elder saw the similarities in each of these lives and concentrated on guidance of its young charge.
"These are harder times than you've known before," it told the younger one.
"Each time has its own trying points. But each is unique in how we handle them."
The elder felt a ping of resignation. "Patience. Observe. Let me guide and learn from me."
The younger still lacked the patience necessary to guide another on its own, but was learning. It had seen the world through so many eyes in so many lives. This was just another to the elder but the younger still had the hope and promise that this one could be different.
"She hungers. There is never enough food."
The elder agreed. "There is always hunger. But this is constant. More than you've known in any other life."
The elder had known this hunger before, in other lives. Not just the hunger of the stomach, but a hunger within one's heart, that things must be made better. But the younger could only feel the pain in its vessel's stomach.
"She is strong within. She has survived the hunger, the disease, the loss of family."
The elder knew they were the bond that made this vessel strong. And it had to help the younger understand that.
Danika returned from the edge of the forest, her basket only half full of berries. Her long blonde hair was spilling forward on her face, dirty and matted from the sap of the bushes she had rummaged through and her own sweat. She had small cuts on top of the small scars on her slender but muscular hands from the thorns of the bushes. They never seemed to heal. Since Andrej had taken her in one of her duties was to get food for him. But the food was getting scarcer and harder to find. She started off earlier each day, hoping to beat the animals that were also vying for the food. But those animals seemed to have the same idea and much of the fruit was gone before she could gather any.
The floods in the valley below had wiped out their village and her people settled up on higher ground. But there was nowhere to farm and people were leaving the make-shift village, searching for work and food, for a better place. And hoping that the sickness that took so many of the neighboring villages wouldn't hunt them down, either.
The Great Death had taken her family. After the flood they gone to the city, leaving their daughter with Andrej, the only family friend they had left. Her two brothers, Pyotr and Milos, had gone with them. They were strong and her parents thought they would work hard in the city. But only Milos returned, sick and dying, to tell Danika of the death in the city, bodies everywhere. And among the bodies were her parents and Pyotr. The Great Death took her mother first, only a week after they had arrived. Her father, whom Danika had never seen sick, died shortly after. Milos cried as he told his sister of Pyotr's death, the morning they decided to leave the city. It only took him a day to die after his return, leaving Danika helpless at the hands of Andrej. He now owned her.
She hoped he would be out with the other remaining men from the village. With any luck he might be in a good mood when he returned and not notice the meager fare. Perhaps he had managed to catch something while out, maybe hunting with others. Maybe he would have something more to put on the table that night, something she would have to cook. Not that she would mind cooking for him, as long as he didn't beat her again for not fulfilling her duties of bringing him food.
And then she began to worry that he may have been drinking. Some of the men made their own ale and would sit and talk about the grand days in the valley, before the floods and the invaders from the north and east. They would talk and rant and get angry in the end, taking out their anger on their families. Since Andrej never married nor had children Danika became the focus of his rage against the outside forces he blamed for his misfortune.
She also feared him for the way he looked at her. She was thirteen years old now and he looked at her as if she were a banquet, more so when he'd been drinking. Lately he had taken to touching her before passing out in his own stench, touching her in forbidden areas, where only her mother had touched her when bathing her. But this wasn't the same, he groped and scratched, moaning like an animal. So far, that was all he did. Once asleep she would quietly crawl to the far side of the hut under a table, ever watchful of the man.
Her eyes darted about as she entered the village, looking for her tormentor. But Andrej was nowhere in sight. Her ears could not hear the boisterous voices of the men, either, and she felt her stomach tighten. "Please," she prayed inwardly, "don't let him be home."
Quietly, she opened the door to the hut, careful to make as little sound as possible. But before she even could peer inside a loud voice greeted her.
"About time, child!"
Andrej was still home, looking as if he had only just arisen. But, she thought, he looked like that most of the time.
"The animals were out before me. But I did find some berries." She slipped the basket close to him. He didn't seem to even care enough to glance down before kicking the basket and her hard work across the room.
"As if that would keep a fly alive!"
He stood up unsteadily from the bed, his head still swimming with tales of glory and strong ale from the night before. The cold gray eyes, bloodshot, tried to focus on her or at least in her direction. Danika had learned not to run from him, that the beating would only be worse if he had to tire himself out to punish her. She lowered her head, trying to go limp. It may not hurt as much and she could drop faster to the dirt floor.
But there was no beating today. Andrej grabbed her shoulders and threw her to the floor before storming out the door.
She didn't care where he was going at that point but did worry about when he would return. If the place wasn't cleaned up before he got back there would be a beating and she would do whatever she needed to in order to avoid that.
Still on the floor, Danika began crawling on her knees, the basket within arm's reach, gathering the berries as best she could. There would be time to clean them after she had removed all traces of his rage. Once picked up she quickly made his bed and put away his clothes. She had washed things the day before and dried them by the fire. Now she would start soaking the next batch of clothes, not so much for Andrej to have clean clothes but for her, to try and keep his stench as much as possible out of the house while he wasn't there. The smell only reminded her of her imprisonment, and she wanted to drift from those thoughts as much as possible.
"Good. For now."
The order never lasted, Andrej saw to that. Sometimes she felt he purposely threw things about to watch and gloat as she cleaned up after him, master of his castle. Such as it was. But for now it was as clean as it could be.
She could hear Andrej down the road, loud as ever, and she knew he was at Anatol's house. They would drink and talk for hours so it was safe for her to venture to the river for water to clean and cook. Lugging the old buckets downhill wasn't so bad - they were empty and she could gallop. But coming back the water was heavy and it was uphill. She had gotten stronger, not spilling as much anymore.
The afternoon went swiftly, as did anytime that Danika spent away from Andrej. Even a moment with him seemed like forever while hours away from him passed in the blink of an eye. She never seemed to cease marveling at how quickly the pleasures in life slipped from her but that anguish lingered. And how chores could bring pleasure, as long as he wasn't there.
But fear always propelled her to continue, work harder. It was never good enough for Andrej, but she kept hoping that he would at least be content with her work. Content enough not to beat her. Or touch her.
As she began washing his clothes the smell of him, his perspiration and urine and ale, turned in her head and she began to retch. She couldn't vomit, there was nothing in her stomach, but it felt as if she would lose everything inside her, all her life. She finished heaving, nothing coming out but heaving anyway, and decided to let the clothes soak while she cleaned the berries. She needed to get away from all traces of him.
The hours rushed by, Danika always trying to savor each moment he was gone, something to hold onto when his hands were on her, something to escape to. She would concentrate on the cleaning, the laundry, the cooking. Every detail, as if her life depended on it. Because, in a way, her life, her essence did depend on it.
"This can't be all there is."
The thought was hers but not hers. She had believed that everyone thought this way, their voices inside but different. She had no control over them but learned to listen.
"You deserve better. You don't need him. If you can care for the two of you, wouldn't it be easier to care for yourself alone?"
She stopped stirring the soup, moving it just off the fire so as not to burn. The voices had never said anything like that, anything that would make her think of being rid of Andrej, of leaving and trying to find her own way. Danika shivered, worried that demons were taking over her spirit.
"Just start packing a few things. He'll never notice if you do it slowly."
Danika felt a rush, a warmth, inside her. Like the times her mother had given her warm tea on cold nights, comforting. At this time she didn't know which warmth she was remembering, the tea itself or the soft words of her mother. Both could take the worst chill away.
She shook her head and put the soup back on the fire, continuing the stirring. The repetition gave her pause to think, the swirling of the soup mirroring the swirling thoughts now in her head. Glancing up she remembered the storage box in the house, where the root vegetables were kept. Andrej only looked in there to see how full it was, never looking any further. There was room to stash some clothes at the bottom, she thought, and some food. He'd never notice.
She was startled by these thoughts. How could she possibly believe that she could leave Andrej? Where would she go? Not the cities, where the great death ruled with an iron hand, where bodies lay in the streets like autumn leaves before winter. She had heard this, not just from others but from her own brother, who was not prone to lying. So it must be true.
To the north and east were the invaders, taking lands and killing those who opposed them, even killing those who sided with them. Barbarians, just as they thought her people were.
To the west was the unknown. She had heard some talk of something holy but spoken fearfully. A papacy, though she didn't understand the word. They were coming soon, to save her people. But the Orogoths, Visigoths, and Turks had said the same thing and the slaughter ensued, matched only by the sickness that was the great death.
The sound of the soup beginning to bubble brought her back. It hadn't burned but she needed to move it off the fire. Looking up she saw the sun low in the sky and knew Andrej would be home soon. If she saw him coming down the road she could have his meal on the table by the time he came in the door. Just knowing there was something hot to eat would keep him quiet, for a little while, and away from her.
She rushed inside to start the table, putting out the bowl and spoon, a goblet for the water since he kept his ale hidden. Things seemed to be in order. Now all she had to do was wait. And hope he would eat and pass out, leave her alone with her thoughts, these new thoughts that gave her some hope. These thoughts that made her think about a future away from the village, from Andrej, from the stench that was both.
The evening meal went as she hoped. He was in a better mood than in the morning but uneasy in his walk. He even had trouble keeping the soup on the spoon, finally just picking the bowl up and drinking it when it had cooled. He must have been drinking heavily that afternoon because he was barely able to make it to the bed before he collapsed and began snoring.
Danika was careful to take his shoes off quietly and placed a blanket over him. If he was comfortable enough he may sleep through the night, without getting up to bother her, to breathe on her and grab her. She cleared the table and took the dishes outside to wash them in the last of the water, first finishing what was left of the meal for herself. There were some flies floating on the top but she picked them off and ate what was left, running her fingers around his bowl and the pot to get every last bit. While they soaked she went down to the river for more water. The moon was out and that would guide her down.
She knew that she could've gone down in the morning light, before Andrej woke up. But she needed the walk, the air, the time away from the hut. The thoughts from earlier in the day were still ringing in her head and she felt the need to know more about this plan. This way out of her prison.
"The hunt starts in the next day or two. He'll be gone from morning to night. You can pack some things then, hide them."
It was true, the men had spoken about the hunt, that boar and deer were nearby and they felt they could get enough for the village to get to last awhile. Andrej always enjoyed the hunt, not for bringing home food as much as the prospect of killing something.
And there were times that Danika wished he would meet with an accident, not come back. But she knew it was bad to think such things, that God would send her to Hell, so she would pray for forgiveness when she felt that way.
"If they are successful there will be joy in the village, and celebrating. He sleeps well when he has been happy and drunk. That is the time to leave."
It was true. This had happened before, a hunt that netted food for the village for the next month. Celebrating. And Andrej, happy and full of food and ale and himself, would sleep soundly, well into the next day.
She found her way down to the river easily, even in the moonlight, having walked that path for what seemed like a century. She would only bring a little water up, enough to start the tea in the morning.
Placing the bucket in the water she caught her reflection in the moonlit river, pausing to look at the features she never thought about. Her once-beautiful hair now tangled and matted, dirt smudged on her delicate features. It was too dark to see her eyes clearly. Were they still blue? Or had they changed?
She did not look like the little girl her parents once loved. And she wanted to know where that little girl had gone.
Even the memories of her mother and father, of her brothers, seemed to be fading, reflections of what once was her life. Much like the reflection that stared back at her from the water, faded and distant.
Danika sat and looked at the stars overhead, at heaven. She wondered where her family was in heaven, were they watching her now? Did they know her pain? Did they know that she missed them, even though she had trouble remembering what they looked like?
This wasn't the life they had wanted for her, certainly not the life she had wanted for herself. She wanted to be a good daughter, wife, mother. None of that seemed attainable anymore, not with Andrej.
"You can choose what you want from life. But you can't choose what you are."
"Then," she thought, "what am I? An orphan, at the mercy of a drunken angry man. I want more than that."
"You are more than an orphan. And Andrej shows you no mercy. You must find your path."
The only "path" Danika knew was the one to the river and yet she knew this meant more. Not a physical path.
A life path.
She felt the chill of the night and got up with her bucket. For once, heading back to the hut, she felt a new sense of purpose, not the dread that ate at her heart and soul.
This must be hope, she thought.
And she slept well knowing Andrej would not wake until morning.
"Well done. She listens to you."
The elder wanted to encourage the younger one. It had done well, had learned well. But the journey was still a long one, to be paced carefully. The younger was learning some patience.
"She seems ready. She can't last with him much longer."
They had spent her life guiding her to this point, the precipice of her own destiny. She had followed willingly, or felt she was chased to this point. Chased by the great death, the threats of wars, Andrej.
Now she was ready to spread her wings. She was ready to fly.
"She is stronger than she knows." The elder sometimes spoke to itself more than the younger.
Yes, she was ready to fly. And they would be her wings.
Danika was up earlier than Andrej, as usual. She got the water on for the morning tea and placed the berries, still good, in a bowl. There was no cream for them but he would still eat them. And the bread, traded for some cleaning with a neighbor, wasn't too stale for him.
As he woke up, she placed all the food and tea on the table then slipped outside to finish some cleaning, more clothes she had gathered earlier. She wouldn't have to face Andrej but he could still see her outside, know that she was around.
She watched him inside as he ate, drank his tea, got dressed in the cleaner clothes she had put away the day before. Then he was gone, not once speaking to her.
This would be a good day to finish as much of her work as possible. The men would be planning the hunt and she wanted the time to herself. And the possiblity of leaving left her feeling a little guilty. She knew she shouldn't feel that way but did. If she could just get things done before sneaking away she may not feel as bad.
"He'll get by. He got by before he took you in."
"I know, but he seems so helpless at times."
"He's not helpless. Someone will always take care of him."
Danika knew that to be true. Andrej had once been a council leader, before the floods. A great hunter and warrior, although all she knew were the stories she heard about and from him. She had no way to know if they were true or only stories. But the people of the village had always looked to him for help and advice. They still seemed to, not because he was a great leader but out of nostalgia. She knew that the remaining villagers needed some last vestige of their lives to hold on to.
The village had once been thriving, with so many people. Not as many as the cities, of course, but many to Danika. It had been so alive with laughter and hard work, well-fed people. Now when she saw any of the survivors in the dwindling population they seemed lifeless. The floods had taken more than their homes, they had taken their lives, their souls. Thin and almost grey, they were the walking dead, as if another great death had taken them, taken their spirits. She had seen hungry children sifting through dirt, eating seeds and weeds. The same children that used to run and play and sing.
No, this wasn't a village anymore. It was a graveyard. The only difference was that the people didn't know they were already dead and the only grave markers were the dilapidated huts.