Fear is a memory
This story takes place after the cottage family leaves and the old man is felled by the wolves. Adam did visit the ruined tower and learned of his origin. But never found the letter with Victor's address. All the papers were destroyed, if not by the fire, then by the snow.
Warnins: Contains descriptions of violence and verbal abuse & trauma.
Synopsis: Creature meets a person who does not seem to fear him, in fact almost matches him in ferality.
Part I
Adam was alone, spending spring and summer wandering aimlessly, trying to find his place in the world. He learned how to read tracks, avoid hunters, and befriended the shadows to shelter his identity from the world. The old man taught him so much, but now he had no use for any of it. Only belongings were the clothes on his back and a medium satchel slinged across his chest. It was his treasure chest, with a few books he re-read countless times, flint and steel he took from the cottage and a few shiny rocks he gathered from the riverbank.
Surviving on berries and little else he could get his hands on, he began to feel incessent hunger, his body refusing to let it claim him. This, paired with loneliness, began to form cracks in other ways. He felt like a dead man walking, unable to lay to rest.
Deep in thought, he realised too late that he was in the middle of a large clearing. Without the trees, the summer sun offered little shelter from the world's eye. He heard laughter and chatter emerge from the treeline. A sizeable group of men, hunters with their flintlock rifles slinged over their shoulders. It looked like they were on their way back from a successful hunt, a deer tied up by the legs on a pole between two of the men. Adam froze. It was too late and too far for him to run to cover. One of the men, mid conversation, looked straight ahead and froze in his tracks, causing the friend behind him to stumble into him. Adam didn't hear what they were saying, but the mood shifted. He was used to getting this reaction from few people he let see him, damn himself for getting lost in thought, he reflected. He expected them to run, but didn't realise man's mentality changes when in a large group.
They didn't shoot, just lifted their rifles as they approached slowly. A flicker of hope zapped through the creatures head, freezing him even more in place. He didn't want to frighten them.
Hope is a fragile thing, and the words spoken were not kind.
"What the fuck is that" One exclaimed disgustingly.
"Are you a soldier? From the front lines?" Another enquired.
"I-I'm..." He began clumsily.
"What would a soldier be doing all the way here man, he's either a thief or a deserter" Another one countered.
"I'm-not..." Fluster caught his throat.
"What are they doing to them up there, what's wrong with his face?"
"Looks like a fucking corpse. Why is one eye different from the other?" One man prodded at Adam with the tip of his rifle. He shrieked at the contact, cowering back. In his experience, rifles equaled pain. The sound that escaped him was far from human. It came from his chest, gutteral and raspy, heavy. It vibrated through the men, and they realised he was no mere man. His sheer size and alien appearance suddenly a threat to them.
"Leave me!" He pleaded, voice still deep but frail. He tried to take a few steps back but staggered. Exhaustion gripped his body and will.
"Leave me?! Have you seen you? Like hell we'll leave something like you in these woods! We keep our women and children safe!" Fear of the unknown blinded their judgement, all men shifted in agreement. Suddenly, sharp pain in Adams side made him wince, a gutteral sound leaving his chest. A bayonet, the culprit of his ache. The men winced at the sound, surrounding him like wolves outnumbering a bear. The first rock has been cast, the rest followed suit, prodding at him like a cornered animal. Verbal insults immobilised Adam more so than the physical violence. If this is to be his fate, so be it. He wanted to world to close around him.
One man felt braver and lunged at the creature with the long bayonet attached at the end of his rifle, piercing through Adams side. He gripped the shaft of the weapon, the heartbroken look in his eyes made the man waiver for a second.
A musket fired. Adam braced to feel more pain. The expectation never delivered. He realised it was fired from a distance. Suddenly, the man prodding his gun into Adams side was covered in blood, falling with a thud.
"Defend yourself!" someone shouted from a distance. Voice hardened with determination and anger. Did the hunters miss so badly? Surely, the gunshot was aimed at him. Everyone looked around, few men spotting a figure in the treeline, Adam turned to look in the same direction. The long distance only betraying that the rifle had been aimed once more. Another shot broke the air. Another man felled, a perfect shot.
Chaos ensued, and the men caught off guard started to quickly prep to fire at the assailant, suddenly becoming a bigger threat than the creature before them. A third shot made them brace, not knowing who will fall next. Every shot met flesh with deadly accuracy. This one sounded closer. The figure was now about thirty meters away, quickly reloading.
"Defend yourself!!" The second roar shook Adam to his core, freeing him from the freeze. He tightened the grip on the rifle in his side and ripped the bayonet end out, swinging as hard as he could with its butt at another mans head. Blood splattered everywhere. The corner of his eye caught a buttstock approaching his face, turning just in time to block it. Creatures other hand gripped the man at his waist and simply folded him backwards, spine cracking like a twig. Adam screamed, hating himself for being capable of such violence. Another man felled, and another. Another shot and another, every time the weapon fired it paired with the expectation of more pain. But this time, this horrid invention was used alongside him. What horrendous inventors people are. He thought hes no different from the weapon, his creator another inventor.
It has grown quieter. Adam looked toward last man trying to run, only to fall soon after another shot fired. Scene from a massacre. The beautiful meadow drenched in blood, the metallic smell of scarlet began rising in the air. The warm sun peaked through the clouds. He shakingly turned around and finally laid eyes on the skilled marksman. He was shaking, a mixture of adrenaline and fear. The figure approached close enough for Adam to observe them better. Large hood and a thin scarf covered the face. Ragged, dark clothing perfectly blended with the surroundings.
Confidence in their stride reminded him of the way Victor approached him angrily before striking his bare skin. He flinched, bracing for impact. But instead, the person lowered their weapon. The figure approached the bodies and checked to confirm it was now just the two of them. Then the hood came down and their eyes met. The contact made Adam tense up and look away. Upon noticing that, the figure slowed their movements and gently placed the rifle on the ground, lifting their arms up, showing they're now unarmed. One of the hands slowly reached and pulled the scarf down, revealing their face. Adam's eyes narrowed.
"Its okay. You're okay now" A gentle voice spoke. With the roaring demand gone from the tone of voice, he judged it was a woman. It was hard to tell through the layers of tattered camouflaging. He has never seen a woman dressed as a man, let alone wielding a rifle like a trained soldier. The horrors of war were only meant to be endured by men, he thought. No book he read had mention of a creature such as the one standing before him. Understanding for an appropriate reaction escaped him - her tone was kind and inviting. But it was directed at him. The two never mixed.
"Did you help me?" he managed.
"Yes, I guess I did"
"Why?"
"I watched the whole thing happen, what scum they are. You did nothing to provoke them. Fear fed their prejudice and violence. I hate men like that"
"They saw a monster. That is what I am"
"Is a cornered animal a monster for defending itself?" She asked. He pondered her words for a moment, tension easing in him the smallest bit. "A few days ago I saw big human tracks west of here, alongside a deer I was hunting. Then at the riverbank I saw you sharing berries with my dinner. I dont think a monster would do that. First you feed my dinner, then they shoot it"
"You watched me?" He was shocked at the prospect, has he really gotten that clumsy?
"Is the prospect so shocking?" The corners of her lips lifted slightly. He averted her gaze. As the adrenaline began to wear off, he began to feel the pain and warmth of blood seeping from his side. He pressed on the wound, sighing roughly.
"That looks bad. I have something for that. If you'd let me?"
"There is no need" He remarked weakly.
"I promise I mean you no harm" Her attempt at reassurance kind of worked. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have let them do it. Come now. Put pressure on that, I'll quickly check the bodies. There's a river nearby, I need to clean my hands before I touch that" She commandeered and went about her business. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to run. But he was so tired. And she didn't seem afraid. The notion puzzled him greatly. That frustrating flicker of hope refused to die. He hesitated but pushed against his fears.
They slowly walked toward the river in silence, with the hunter's deer hanging between them. An agreement he arrived at reluctantly, pushed by the hunger gripping his mind and body. He thought about the lifeless carcass swinging between them and the fact that a few days ago, this creature was warm and unafraid, sharing a handful of berries with him. What cruelty the circle of life invokes.
They placed the deer down and once she was happy with the surroundings being clear, she took off her tattered camouflage and began to clean her hands. He sorely kneeled at the waters edge away from her, watching the current spark in the sunlight. It was a wonderful summer day. The sun peaked through the canopy, warming his tired face. The splatter of water caught his attention, and for the first time, he had a moment to analyse the woman. Dark blonde hair, messily tied up out of her face was greasy from travel. Her face hid under intentionally placed dirt, angular, balanced featured peaking through. Her brown eyes focused on the task, framed by expressive, dark eyebrows. Is this what a woman is, outside of a book? He wondered. It's like she is the forest. His stare was caught when she finished cleaning her arms. He embarrasingly fumbled with a leaf.
She fished a clear liquid from her pouch, some cream coloured linen cloth and upon approaching him, requested he takes off his coat and lifts his shirt. He anxiously obeyed, watching her reaction.
Up until this point she only saw his scarred face, without realising his body matched the theme. She frowned, but didn't comment. Requesting he leans back, she gently began examining the wound. Adam tensed up and flinched at the touch, the only association with touch being pain.
"This will sting" she warned and upon receiving his nod of understanding, applied the potion. He hissed a little as she washed away the blood, the wound was now much shallower than a bayonet would allow. She tensed up. "I watched you a few days and concluded there was no substance for fear. This luxury is clearly not awarded to those who suddenly stumble upon your likeness. So I find myself in an interesting predicament. A man with scars that should not hold flesh together, skin akin in color to a cadaver and now wounds that shrink without intervention. What are you?" She pondered, pressing white cloth to his wound. Looking up at him questiningly. He found it difficult to find the correct words. Her hands shook as she frowned up at him. Every fibre of her being responsible for survival was screaming. Unknown. Be afraid. Dangerous. She always fought against those instincts, refusing to be prey. They were never this loud before. Her tone, composure, and sincerity made him feel the need to want to be honest, even though he knew people didn't like his truth.
"A madman wanted to challenge death. He abhorred his creation. He tried to kill me. But death no longer wants to claim me" he summarised solemnly.
"Why the scars?"
"I am a cumulation of men found laying on the battlefield" he hissed, looking away into the current, hoping it would take him. He never felt this vulnerable. Thinking back to the old man who accepted him. His friend. His blindness saving him from the sight of horror etched into his skin, that's why he accepted Adam. He never felt so bare in front of anyone before as he did now. A feeling he didn't fully grasp, he knew nothing about her. She looked over his flesh and tried to absorb the information. It was difficult to stomach the idea of such a madman existing, let alone rejecting his creation. The idea of his tale being true was even worse. But she witnessed his sheer strength and the wound she held linen over was pretty much gone now.
"I see" She finally said, sitting back, deep in thought. He lowered his shirt and curled his knees up to his chest, a learned form of self soothing. He awaited rejection. "I... I dont have a home. I dont have anyone. My father and brothers all died in the war. It was unsafe for a woman to live alone, so I left" She remarked nervously. It was hard for her to speak of such things. "I feel truth in your words. I thank you for your honesty. You could've easily lied or said nothing. I appreciate that." He watched her fiddle with her pouch anxiously. She chose to match his vulnerability. He also appreciated that.
"It seems life has carved a lonesome path for us both" he remarked, lifting his chin up from his knees.
"Yes. I'm also an unconventional kind of woman, theres no place for me in society anymore. I guess we're both outcasts" Their eyes met. So similar by circumstance, and yet they couldn't be more different. The sun began to set over the canopy. She slowly got up and gave him his space. She fished a gutting knife out of her rucksack and looked at the deer. "I am a traveller with nothing to my name but what's on my back, you are welcome to go if you please. However I also invite you to sup me and share in what little I have" She said decidedly, even though her voice wavered a small bit. "You're entitled to half the deer, considering you helped me carry it." She added, trying to lighten the mood between them. Corners of her lips lifted slightly. He blinked, wide-eyed. He nodded gently.
As the sun set beyond the horizon, the summer night grew surprisingly chilly. There was no cloud cover holding the heat in. Stars were shining brightly in the sky, a slumbering silence befell the forest. Adam lit the fire with his flint and steel, placing rocks around it in a circle. Then once she gutted the animal, he was shown how to mount it on a spit over the fire. She cut smaller pieces and skewered them, passing a few to him. Nothing went to waste, the pelt sat stretched over an ideal tree trunk next to the fire. They both silently settled with the fire in between them. The smell was very inviting to his starving self, but he was instructed to wait for the meat to cook thoroughly.
"How long have you been wandering on your own?" She asked.
"I... Had a friend. An old man. I helped him look after the cottage through winter. He taught me how to read and speak. He was kind to me like no other. When I went away the wolves attacked. I returned too late." He grimaced, staring into the flames. The woman frowned, remembering a story she overheard when selling pelts in a distant town. Of a massacre. An old man stubbornly demanding to stay behind while the family went to town and to cull the overpopulated wolves. The men who returned found wolves torn to shreds as if a bear went rabid. A monster curled up inside. Ripped a man's jaw clean off when confronted. They shot it and ran, but when help was gathered the corpse was gone.
Their eyes met across the flames and that pang of instinctual fear fired up her senses again. She recalled the words of her father, calling her stupid for going against human instincts in order to better understand the natural world. Nothing about this creature before her felt natural. But somehow, the look in his eyes incited compassion to tear through her fear.
"Do you have a name?" She asked eventually.
"My creator never named me. Although one of the books I read had a character I empathised with. Born first and new into a world he didn't understand. Adam."
"Adam. Then that should be your name" She replied gently, clinging onto the conviction that she is a good judge of character. She leaned around the fire and extended her hand. It took him a second to realise that her movements resembles the mutual shakes of hands he has seen people do as a form of greeting. He extended his and gently gripped hers. His hand was freezing.
"Evelyn" She said, shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you"
"Eve-elyn" He repeated, preferring the shorter version. She scoffed at the reference, then remarked that the meat is ready and they both dug in. Adam treasured the meal and expressed his gratitude. For the first time in a long time he felt hopeful at what tomorrow may bring.
