Click here to read Part One and here to read Part Two. The tent was quiet but outside the storm raged on. Katarina rose to her feet and set her potato back in the smouldering coals. She was not hungry and she did not have time to spare. She must brave the strengthening storm and find the Midnight Stag before her Grandmother ran out of time. As she reached for the tent’s door, however, something white and fluttering caught her eye. A scrap of paper was stuck beneath the man’s sitting mat and flapping desperately in the strong wind. She picked it up and unfolded it. Surely I shall see the sun, Rise beyond the distant shores, Flaming red to break the night, And shatter darkness with the light. For love conquers the worst Love endures the worst, Love touches the worst, And love heals the deepest wounds. Love is a sword, Love is a word. Love is a smile to the hurting Love is Light in the Dark. So carry not hate, But love For it is the weapon of True Kings, And love always wins. Katarina read the words again and paused thoughtfully, then slid it into her pocket. Love heals the deepest wounds? she wondered. She bit her lip and breathed in shakily. Was it too much to hope for? Wind and rain slapped her in the face as she ducked out of the tent. The heavy drops stung on her arms and she hunched over and ran forward against the strong blasting weather. Before her, the shapes of the boulders were only black silhouettes. And then she stopped and stared. There was the silhouette of a stag, she could see no features, but it was there. The shape turned and faced Katarina. The girl’s heart skipped a beat and she forced herself to breath. Her hands tingled.
“I—” she stuttered but her words were lost to the wind. Young one, I know. The words echoed softly in her head. Katarina blinked. Power. She could feel it on the other side. The mind of the Midnight Stag had brushed against her own. The Creator is gracious and has told me of your cries. Again she felt it: power enough to tear down an entire city in a heartbeat; power to bring a storm; power to heal the sick. Katarina gulped. Her clenched hands felt clammy and her whole body was trembling. “And?” she whispered. The power is His, the Stag said gravely. To heal or hurt. To show mercy or bring justice. Today He does not ignore the cries of the others. Neither does he ignore the one that is a dethroner, murder, and thief — all to serve himself, his desires, and his own gods. One day punishment will be brought before him. This is the hope that I pass to you so you may pass it on to others. Katarina bit her lip as everything around her began to blur. “I don’t understand... but— but my Grandmother? What about her?” Hope to pass on. Hope to live on-- “But—” The silhouette began to fade and the voice grew quieter. Hope to grow and strength. Hope for the Dawn-- “My Grandmother!” Katarina screamed. “What about her?” Light lives forever, the voice continued steadily. Light rises even in the darkness. Live that Light and in the dark you shall rise for others… Go home... Live the Light. The whisperer faded and Katarina was alone. Waves beat against the cliff wall below and wind whipped her cloak. “The Creator heard my cry,” she whispered, lip trembling. “Then did my Grandmother—” her words stopped short as she remembered what the stag had said: “Love heals all.” Was it possible...? If the Creator loved her than wouldn’t he heal her Grandmother? Katarina turned and ran. Wind fought her flight across the fields and tried to tear her away from the path. The ground was softer and her feet sunk. Mud splattered her dress and her hood ripped from her neck. In the distance she could barely see the lights of the village, blurred by mist and rain. And then the wind carried a distant wisp of mournful music over the fields. She began running faster and recognized the shape of her own hut. Shadows of people lined at the door, the light of lanterns dancing across grim faces. Many avoided her gaze. Others shook their heads sadly — empathy alight in their eyes. “No,” Katarina croaked and felt the world spin around her. “No!” She shoved them out of the way and stumbled into the small room. Isaac leapt to his feet from where he was kneeling with his parents. Tears streaked his face and his eyes glistened with more. “Katarina!” he said and reached for her hand. “No,” she said and stared at the cot, slowly backing away. Her grandmother didn’t move. “No!” she screamed. If loves heals the deepest wounds then there is no love here from the Creator. “Katarina!” The girl didn’t answer but turned and ran. The cold air of the night embraced her and the dark of the storm fell around her. Written by Evelyn Kelly Illustrated by Jeremiah K. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room
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Click here to read Part One. The cottage was dim. Katarina ducked inside and squeezed out the hem of her soaking dress. The freezing water trickled down her legs and she shivered. Across the room lay a cot. She tiptoed up and kneeled beside it, taking the motionless wrinkled hand in hers. It was cold, so she tried to warm it up. “Grandmother?” In the stillness that followed, Katarina could only hear her own gasps and sobs. Finally, she rose and pushed her tears away with the back of her dirty hand. Light. “Okay Isaac, I will look for it,” she whispered to herself. Katarina took her cloak from the basket beside the bed and slipped it over her worn, old dress. Outside the rain streamed down from the huge black clouds that never left but ever cast their shawdow over Tenebris. Icy air nipped her fingers, but she opened the door and stepped out. Light. “Somewhere the sun shines,” she whispered to herself, as if saying it would make it come true. Her voice tightened, but she added, “Somewhere there is a Creator who cares.” She turned down the alley that led to the edge of town. Beyond that were the marshy fields and then the rocky cliffs overlooking the sea. The buildings on either side looked ominous and gray in the shadow of the storm. The wind threw water in her eyes and it streamed down her cheeks, mingling with her tears. She hunched over and hugged herself and ran forward until the she reached another alley and turned down it. The village ended and she looked out over the marsh. A cloud of mist shaped and shifted slowly above the gray foliage and puddles of water grew bigger and bigger with the heavy rain pour. An aura of mystery seemed to cling to every leave and patch of moss. Not a bird called. No dogs barked. Her breath was shaky and her hands clammy and frozen with cold and fear. Slowly she stepped forward on the ground that still protruded above the puddles and pools. Her feet sunk a little in the damp soil. She took another step and then another and another. Carefully, she worked across the sinking land and slowly got closer to the hill where on top the cliffs were. It felt like hours, but finally she was across. In the darkness she could hardly see before her, but she knew that the ground was beginning to climb up. Fuzzy dark shadows on either side grew into jagged rocks. Under her feet the soil gave way to pebbles and rock slates. Then before her the ground gave way and she could hear, somewhere past the fog and heavy rain, the waves beating against the high cliffs. Freezing wind blaster her face and made her cloak whip behind her. Here she was. She had made it.
Find light, he had said. But all she could see was blackness. “Hello?” she yelled. Her cry was muffled by the billowing storm. “Help! I need Your help!” she screamed and beat her hand against the boulder beside her. Her skin split and began to bleed. “The storyweaver said when someone calls you always hear them,” she sobbed and collapsed. “Light,” she whispered. “I need the Stag — I need the messenger of the Creator,” she gasped and griped the stone under her face. “I need healing for my Grandmother. ” Katarina opened her eyes. A small warm fire crackled before her and she lay upon a soft bed of pine needles inside a tent. Outside the storm still raged and rain still cascaded from the clouds. The smoke made her eyes water and she coughed. Someone stooped inside the flap. An old man hobbled up and smiled at her. Katarina pushed herself up, confused and aching, as the man hunched over the fire and pulled two cups from it’s warmth. “Drink,” he said, his voice crackling. The girl obeyed and gulped down the steaming liquid. It was sweet and she could feel it warming her stomach. She coughed and then drank more. The man watched her as he sipped from his own cup. His hands were wrapped in strips of cloth and his wore a cloak with holes for his arms. Underneath he wore a jerkin and leather breeches and boots. His face was scared, wrinkled, and worn from many years of life and work. Katarina set her cup down. “I found you on the cliffs,” the man said, coughing. “You fainted. Are you alright now?” Katarina shrugged. “I guess so.” The man began swirling his his cup over the fire. His eyes squinted. “You had a fever and were whispering and murmuring for light.” Katarina looked down and the man watched her from the corner of his eyes. “You know there is no light around but a candle here and there,” he said. “And my fire. Now you have light!” he cackled and smiled broadly, showing a row of chipped and crooked teeth. “Thanks,” Katarina muttered and drew up her knees to rest her chin on. “Breakfast?” the man asked and took some tongs and pulled a wrapped potato from the coals of the fire. “Is it morning already?” The man nodded. “There is no dawn here — just mornings.” “I know,” Katarina sighed. “I live here too. I just didn’t think I was asleep that long.” The man unwrapped the potato and passed it to Katarina. It was hot and she cupped it in her hands for warmth. “Where do you live?” the man asked. Katarina shrugged. “Just the village.” “Just the village,” the man murmured and pulled out another potato from the fire. The girl looked past him into the storm. “Do see many people on the cliffs?” she asked. The man looked at her for a moment and tore his potato open with his hands. “I see people here and there. Some want to be found, some don’t. Some hunger for Light, like you, and so I invite them in. Others are looking for Light but don’t recognize it. Others—” he paused. “Others come here to escape or make choices.” He glanced up slyly at Katarina. “Some come to find someone. Are you?” Katarina blushed again. “I came for Light.” The man nodded. “I thought you were looking for him.” Katarina didn’t answer. “There was a boy that came yesterday to find him too,” the man continued, scraping the inside of the potato into his hand and licking it off his fingers. The girl’s heart fluttered at the comment. “Did he find him?” she asked hoarsely. The man smiled, his eyes twinkling, and looked Katarina in the eyes. “He found Light.” “I want to find it,” she whimpered. “Young girl,” the man said. “Do you not have love? ...Love and kindness. That is the reflection of the Light.” “I don’t understand,” Katarina sniffed. “My friend said something like that too.” “Then he is right,” the man said and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Love is Light and Light sends the Dark flying. This world,” he waved to the storm outside the flapping door of the tent. “It is dark in both ways, but though we may not be able to take the clouds away, we may strive to lighten the burdens of those arounds us and spread a little Light.” Katarina nodded and bit back her tears. “What about my Grandmother though? I… I wanted to find the Stag to heal her.” The man’s expression grew grave. He looked down into the flames thoughtfully. “You want to see the Stag, the prophet and messenger of the Creator,” he murmured. “Many seek him, and yet few succeed. Sometimes a person’s path leads a different way. Sometimes the Creator knows that it is for the better that one does not see or talk to him. If you want you may pursue the path, but I promise nothing for you.” Katarina thought for a moment. “I must,” she whispered. “For love.” “And that is the noblest reason. Use it well.” The man smiled sadly and stood. “I must go. Use this tent as long as you would like. And remember: Love is a power that can’t be overcome. Even by hate. Love always wins.” Katarina nodded and the man stepped out into the storm. Written by Evelyn Kelly Illustrated by Jeremiah K. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room If you ever listen to the village gossip, you learn many things. You might learn that the butcher’s daughter ran off with the ironsmith. You might learn that the crops are struggling. Or you may even learn that there are rumors of the Midnight Stag — again. Katarina scratched her leg with her toe, trying not lose her balance in doing so. She slowly let her foot back down onto the wood floor and held her breath, trying not to yawn from boredom when suddenly the conversation turned. “Oh Cynthia dear, they say that he’s back!” “Who?” “Why the Midnight Stag of course! Who else?” Katarina perked up and strained her ears to catch their voices. A deep sigh. “Who started it this time?” “Oh, I heard that Isaac saw his shadow on the cliffs last night when he went for water.” “When will the children ever stop making up fancies?” “Oh, you know it’s not the children! It's that old man — the Storyteller — that started it all. Calls him the ‘Stag of Storms.’ Some kind of prophet he says. Says he’s a messenger from and to the ‘Creator.’” Cynthia scoffed. “Tell the priest and he’ll prove you wrong.” “I didn’t say the old man was right, Cynthia! I don’t believe him any more than you do!” She sounded annoyed. “Then stop spreading the lies, Hannah. Something bad will happen if you don’t.” Hannah grumbled something Katarina could not catch, but she didn’t mind. After sitting for an hour, she had finally heard something interesting. Something beside the usual seamstress's talk. Isaac had seen the legend, the Stag of Storms, the Creator’s messenger. That’s all that mattered. She held her breath and inched out from out of the cubby in the wall, pushing the curtain aside and dropping out the window into the alley behind the house. Time for another visit at the Dragon’s Inn. Just as she had thought, the boys were playing behind the inn, kneeling in the dust over a match of marbles. Above the sky was dark, blotted out by the ever present storm clouds. “What you doing?” Katarina asked approaching.
“Nothing a girl can join,” one of the boys sneered. “Come on Wats,” she smiled. “You know I love marbles.” “Yeah, but they don’t love you. Get lost.” She frowned. “More like you don’t like me because you just know I’ll win.” “I could beat you anyday,” the boy boasted. “No one beats the great Watson!” “Except last week when she beat you to the well and back.” Isaac sighed. “Isaac!” he snapped. The boy shrugged and collected the clay marbles he had knocked out of the arena. “Just saying,” he murmured. “Katarina can hold her own. She even works, unlike you, to su—” Katarina kicked him. “Hey, I came to talk to you, not to Wats, and not about me.” “What? He your boyfriend Katarina?” Watson snickered. “Nope, Wats. Just wanted to ask him a question.” “What? If he’ll marry you?” Wats jeered, elbowing one of the other boys, who giggled as well. Katarina set her jaw and pushed up her tattered sleeves. “Say that one more time — I dare you.” “Hey! Hey!” Isaac jumped up and grabbed Katarina’s arms. “No fighting.” Her jaw flexed and her eyes flared, but she slowly lowered her fists. “Oh! She listens to her boyfriend, boys!” Katarina tensed, but Isaac just smiled and pulled her to the inn’s back door. “Come on Kat, let’s go get some biscuits from the kitchen.” The kitchen was warm and glowed with the open fire’s orange light. Isaac’s mother, Elizabeth, sleeves rolled up and wearing an apron, bent over the huge bowl hanging over the flames. Her thick brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun and her face was red and rosy with the heat. “Mama, do you have some extra biscuits from breakfast?” She turned and smiled. “Of course! Greetings Katarina Susan's daughter! How are you?” Katarina smiled back. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Isaac grabbed two warm biscuits from the pan and passed one to Katarina. She took it and nibbled on it slowly, pacing herself and hoping her stomach wouldn’t grumble at the delicious smell. “So what have you been doing lately Miss Katarina?” The girl shrugged but Isaac spoke up. “Mom, she just got a job at—” Katarina started coughing and kicked his leg. “Ow!” Elizabeth turned with her spoon in hand. “I didn’t know! Where did you get it?” Katarina scowled at Isaac. “The seamstress’s shop.” The woman smiled but she looked sad. “That’s great!” There was pause and Katarina, cheeks burning, angrily tore at the rest of the biscuit. Elizabeth sighed, wiped her hands on her apron, and began to give Katarina a hug. “I”m sorry about your Grandmother, if you need to me help—” Katarina tore away. “No!” she growled as she ran out into the streets. Isaac bolted out the door and after her. “Kat! Kat! Stop!” he yelled. Katarina shook her head and began to run faster. “Kat!” Isaac grabbed her arms and spun her around. “Kat! My mother didn’t mean to offend you! She was just trying to help!” Katarina choked back a sob. “I don’t need help. Why do you think I got a job?” Isaac took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Katarina. We’re your friends. When trouble comes that’s what friends do!” The girl shook her head, tears streamed down her dusty face. She smeared them with her sleeve and turned away. “Please!” the boy pleaded, “Let us help, Katarina! Let us buy some medicine, or—” “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “No medicine with heal her.” Isaac bit his lip and looked down. “I’m sorry, Katarina.” “Don’t be,” she snapped and hunched over as it began to rain. Isaac didn’t move for a second. “Katarina,” he said softly. “Don’t you want to go home?” Katarina shrugged. “I like the rain.” Isaac sighed and walked over to sit down against the stone building. “I guess the boys will be looking for us now their game will wash away.” Katarina nodded but didn’t answer. For a couple minutes they sat silently just watching the ally fill with puddles. “Katarina?” “Hmm?” “You said you wanted to ask me something.” “Oh.” She thought a moment. “Isaac, do you believe the old man’s stories that you tell me about?” “Which ones?” “All of them — the sun and stars, the Dethroner and the true king, the gifted, and the Midnight Stag sent as a messenger from the Creator?” Isaac looked up at the black sky. Rain droplets splattered his face and rolled down it. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Somewhere there’s Light Katarina. Somewhere. I guess we just have to find it.” He turned to her and smiled. “Like helping one another. He said that’s a reflection of the Light.” Katarina smiled sadly back. “Thanks Isaac.” She gazed to the sky and then pushed herself off the muddy alley street. “Well, I have to go.” “Mama says you can come any time, Katarina.” She nodded and slipped away into the mist, hugging herself to fend off the growing cold. Light. You just have to find it. Written by Evelyn Kelly Illustrated by Jeremiah K. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room |
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