Page 45 of The Satyr's Guilt
Once he returned, they ate in silence. Shecleaned the kitchen. Afterward, the dreaded nightly ritualbegan.
It always started out the same way. Spearsaid, “It is bath time,kjaer.”
Bile rose in Lizette’s throat, but shestifled a scream. The berserker released her from the restraint. Here-attached a leash to her collar. After stopping to gather a basinfilled with supplies, he walked her outside.
He led her to a spot where the river wasdamned to form a pool.
His eyes aglow, he said, “Take off yourdress.”
While Lizette did as he bid, his chestexpanded with his rapid breathing. His hand went to his trousers.Unbuttoning, he dropped them. He yanked on his disgusting penis,stroking himself while she stood naked in front of him, pretendingshe was somewhere else.
He stepped away from his pants, shucked offhis shirt, and pulled her into the pooled water behind him.Lathering soap onto his hands, he washed her, every intimate part.He rubbed his hand across her breasts, closing his eyes. Spreadingher legs apart, his fingers explored, cleaning her sex while hemoaned in pleasure.
She no longer gripped her thighs together.This sick ritual was going to be completed. She simply stood stillwhile she dreamed of her freedom. She saw the trees beyond theriver, imagining cozy homes, warm fireplaces, happy families, somekind person who would take her in. While he bathed her, shefantasized somewhere pretty, someplace safe.
Finally, Spear walked her out of the riverto dry her off. Once they returned to the hut, the nighttime horrorbegan.
The next morning was like any other. Oncethe berserker left, she knew today would be the one. She changedclothes but didn’t plan for dinner or lunch. She plopped downbeside the eye bolt. In a frenzy, she resumed her task.
Despite the towel around her hand, it stung,bled. Yet she kept going. Jamming the nail into the hole, shegripped the bolt to shake it. It shimmied up until it slipped freefrom the floor.
She gasped, momentarily stunned. When sherecovered, she grabbed the length of chain to wrap it around herwaist. She ran for the biggest window, searching for a tool tobreak through it. Her gaze landed on the iron frying pan. Liftingit by the handle, she slammed it through the glass and exteriorwooden shutter. Both gave. Lizette pulled herself up, droppingthrough the opening onto the ground below. She was bleeding fromthe shards scattered in the dirt, but she felt glorious.
She laughed. When tears streamed down hercheeks, she swiftly wiped them away. She shielded her eyes from thebright sun while watching a flock of birds fly overhead. Drawing adeep breath through her nose, she took a whiff of pine trees,jasmine, possibly approaching rain.
Freedom. This is the smell of freedom.
For the first time in months,Lizette Lee ran toward the river, toward the scent of survival.
****
While she lounged on the bank watching theRiver Am, Indigo idly stroked the lion-like tail of hergryphon.
“It’s changed, hasn’t it, Oskar? It’s notjust my overactive, albeit amazing, imagination.”
The beast swung its massive neck, loweringits head to snort a puff of smoke. Her conjured gryphon was uniquewith the head and wings of an eagle, the neck and torso of adragon, and the haunches and feet of a lion. Following its show, itpecked the hand stroking its tail.
“I’m petting you as fast as I can, Oskar.Don’t be greedy.” Her palm wandered to his neck, his green scaleslike those of a dragon.
The beast cast a petulant look in herdirection.
Indigo gestured toward distant forks of theriver, barely visible behind so much greenery. “See the possiblefutures, roiling upstream? Thrice more than usual. How am Isupposed to scope out each? Evaluate which will become the present?Better yet, how am I to remember so many possibilities?”
Oskar snorted.
“Suck it up, you say. Don’t be rude.”
The witch tucked booted feet under her long,light-weight skirt before staring straight out into the turbulentwater before her. The river crashed against its banks, formedwhirlpools of concentric circles, and surged forward and backwardat odds with itself. Stirring the waters like rage. Here, thecountless streams of possibility fought to feed into thepresent.
Much further downstream, the river was calm.There, the present flowed into the past undisturbed.
The gryphon ruffled its wings.
“Just do it, you say? What are you? A Nikead? I’m a lone witch. Truly incredible, of course, butnonetheless.”
Oskar bobbled his head. His body shedfeathers, scales, or fur in equal quantity.
“Glad you agree.” She twirled a strand ofhair around her finger, not convinced her beastly friend understoodthe complexity of her task.
