Giles' Keeper
Chapter 2

The sun shines down on the decrepit barn, through the hole in the roof it lights up Mable’s stall, I drop a pile of hay in Mable’s stall. The trough that sits under the hole is partially empty. I’ll need to fill that soon. “Nesta! What have you done?” Papa growls, the sound rough with anger it makes me shrink at the sound of his stomping steps.

“What are you talking about Papa?” I flush as he appears in the doorway of the stall, features bright red, a vein bulged out in his forehead. The rabbit pelt is clutched tightly in his hand, he shakes it angrily in my direction.

“Tell me you didn’t go hunting on your own young lady.” His broad shoulders fill the door in a menacing way, blocking me from leaving as he shakes the pelt again. Shame fills me in an instant at the anger and disappointment on his features.

“I’m sorry Papa, but you needed more than what you’ve-”

“I told you- you never-” Papa starts out with a holler, he’s cut off by a thick fit of coughs. He clutches the wall, gasping for breath, a tear leaks from his eyes as he struggles for breath.

“Papa, sit down, please take it easy.” I fret as I move to his side only to be waved off with a worried glare.

“I told you to never go hunting- not in these woods. It’s dangerous, especially at night.” His eyes blaze hot with madness. “Foolish girl, what were you thinking? I outta-” He’s cut off again by another round of mucus filled coughs. “I outta… take you over my knee and paddle you.” I flush at his words as I try to urge him to sit down. He swats at my hand, shaking his head with a growing frown.

“I’m sorry-”

“I told you, never go hunting alone and you disobey me Nesta.” My chest throbs at his words as I once more reach for him to try to get him to sit down.

“Papa, please- I know I wasn’t supposed to. But I can’t sit back and watch you die- I don’t-”

“I don’t want excuses young lady.” Papa growls, swatting my hand away with the pelt. He moves to sit down on the milking stool, wiping at his features with his old rag he takes a moment to catch his breath. I can’t just sit by while you let yourself die. A bubble of anger and frustration forms in the pit of my belly. He refuses for the town doctor to come check on him. I don’t know what else to do.

“Where did you hunt? Please tell me you weren’t foolish enough to hunt by the cavern.” I can’t respond as I look away, my features flush bright red. “Answer me young lady.” He snarls, grabbing my wrist in a punishing grip.

“I’m sorry Papa- I didn’t have-”

“You shouldn’t have! Foolish, foolish girl! What have you done!?” He cries out, jumping up as quick as his frail body will allow.

“Papa-”

“I don’t want to hear a word from you!” Papa snarls, eyes filled with rage as he shakes my arm harshly, his nails dig into my skin painfully.

“But-”

“Enough! I’ve warned you many a times that you are never allowed out to the cavern- it’s dangerous for newcomers, you’re lucky you weren’t beheaded! Or worse, kidnapped.” He vibrates with anger, he drops my arm as if it’s burned him. Clutching it to my chest I hold the already forming bruise tenderly. What’s gotten into him?

I step back away from him, shaken from the stark change in him as he paces angrily down the aisle of the barn, muttering an angry rant. I just wanted to help. “Did he speak?” He growls and I stare at him lost.

“Speak? What are you on about Papa? You’re scaring me.” My voice cracks in fear as he stops to stare at me with a cold calloused stare.

“Answer me! Did he speak?” He speaks slow as if I’m a young child unable to understand his words properly.

“I- I don’t- no?” I question, unsure what he means. Talk? Who is he? His eyes gloss over in a haze before he turns swiftly muttering to himself incoherently.

“Maybe it’s a lie, it has to be a lie- nothing more.” He mutters as he walks away from me as if nothing happened. What was that about?

“Papa- what do you mean?” Papa stops at the end of the barn aisle to stare at me, his form shadowed by the bright sun.

“Don’t even think of that dreaded place again- forget it even exists!” He shouts with a proud glare, his eyes glitter with malice and disgust. With a long glare he turns away to limp towards the house. He tosses the partially worked pelt to the ground, using his cane he stabs it into the dirt. Why is he so angry?

Papa slams the door to the house in a fit of rage, the sound sends the nearby birds up to the sky, wings stretched wide as they squawk in upset. Wings flap rapidly over the barn as they continue to express their agitation well towards the treetops of the pastures. What is it about that clearing that has him so upset? It doesn’t make sense, he used to talk so highly of it, the nature and beauty it held.

It is stunning. Having seen it myself, I’ve never seen anything prettier, the sound of babbling crooks created this soothing atmosphere, and the cool breeze that swept through the clearing was invigorating. It was perfect. I stare at the house for a long moment, watching his silhouetted form move in the dirty stained windows. What is he up to? Mable snorts in the trough of water, our goats bleat in annoyance at the spray of water that covers their heads.

As usual. With one last glance towards the house I focus back on the chores, my mind often wanders back to Papa’s actions. Something is off about that cavern. He used to talk so much about it. It all stopped suddenly, his stories ended, he talked of them less. That was after Momma left… Could that have something to do with it? I move towards the garden or what’s left of it.

Our harvest this year was a pitiful excuse, most of the crops had been ravaged by pests, the few that had survived were all but destroyed by an early frost. It would’ve poisoned us. What’s left is wilted, under grown- sad excuse for nutrients. If there’s even any left. Few corn stalks remain, swaying in the wind, the leaves a harsh brittle brown.

Is it even worth it anymore? With the farm in such a desolate state- I don’t see how we can survive another winter, much less the one we are about to face. It’s a scary decision we have to face. Papa’s health has been on a slow decline this year. And now he’s having trouble hunting. Automatically I replace myself staring off in the distance, towards the cavern with a frown.

‘Did he speak?’ Papa’s question makes my mind churn in unease and question. The stark image of the large plume of smoke rises in my mind as if I’m back in that moment. It was cold… but not that cold. Never in my life have I met a creature that’d make that much smoke, the stench of decay still so vivid in my mind. Is it a man?

“Nesta!” Papa hollers loudly from the porch. Oh great, I wonder what I did now? “Come in please!” He shouts again, his voice bellows over the farm with ease. It’s not like there was a lot for me to do here but daydream about the cavern and the mystery it holds. So many questions and no answers. By the time I’m to the Porch Papa had made his way back inside. Is he going to yell at me again?

“You called Papa?” I ask as I spot him settled in his beloved rocker, dagger and sharpener in hand as he rocks slowly.

“I need you to go see Mrs. Gingham for me.” He states without looking over his shoulder.

“Oh, is she alright? Has she gotten sick as well?” I frown as I round Papa’s rocker.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen her in town in some time. I’d like for you to make sure she is well.” He announces and I nod.

“I can take Mable over and be ba-”

“No, I want Mable to rest, I need to make a trip into town in the next few days. I don’t want her weary.” Papa meets my gaze with a frown of his own. “Take your hatchet, I don’t think you’ll run into coyotes on the walk back. See if you can stay the night, I don’t want you walking back in the dark, not in these woods.” He gives a pointed stare before he focuses back on his dagger, taking care to get the right angle.

“I’ll be careful and keep to the road.” I promise. Why does he want me to stay over? He’s never asked that before. “I can make dinner before I go.” I try to offer watching as he shakes his head waving his hand dismissively.

“No, I’m not hungry. I am capable of making myself a meal if I want one. Enjoy yourself at Mrs. Gingham’s.” Papa doesn’t bother to look at me, too focused on sharpening his dagger. What has gotten into him? I stare at him with a frown as I nod.

“Oh… alright. I’ll make something up with the rabbit, does stew sound good?” Papa grunts, pausing his work before he shrugs.

“I’m sure it’ll taste good. We have a potato or two left to use.” He hums, focused on his blade again. Strange. I turn and start our rabbit stew before I dig around for the makings of biscuits. Mrs. Gingham would like some biscuits. Or more likely scones.

“I’ll get changed before I head over to check on her.” I offer, unsure how else to fill the awkward silence that has ensued. Something is bothering him badly.

“Don’t mess about too much longer girly, it gets dark early.” Papa makes sure to remind me as I head for my room.

“I remember Papa, I’ll be careful and mind my time.” I promise. It’s not like it takes terribly long anyway.

“Good, then get to it. Mrs. Gingham goes to bed early.” That makes me pause in my room. How would you know that?

“I’m on my way, don’t worry. I’ll try to be back tonight-”

“No, I’d rather you stay with Mrs. Gingham girly. It’s dangerous in these woods- have you not learned anything after last night?” He glares harshly at me before he turns his pointed stare towards the crackling fire.

“I’m sorry Papa, I promise I won’t go hunting again by the cavern.” I swear to him as I glance away. I can’t stand by and let you starve to death. Not hungry, I gather a bowl for Papa and a biscuit, packing a sack for Mrs. Gingham. “You’re stew is-”

“I’ll get it girly, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, enjoy your time with Mrs. Gingham, tell her I said hi for me.” He waves over his shoulder as he wipes his blade on his trousers, polishing the gleaming metal.

“I will… I love you Papa.” Papa grunts with a muttered response.

“Love you too.” I stare at the back of his head for a moment longer before I slip outside, shutting the sounds of the crackling fire inside the warm cabin. The slowly setting sun an eerie backdrop on the silent farm, a strong wind makes my hair flutter.

‘Stray not my soul, for your home is just a breath a way.’ My heart skips a beat at the rush of wind. The words sounded so clear I look around. A smell of smoke meets my nostrils and I turn towards the path of the cavern. ‘Come home my soul.’