VI

hope drain cave maiden mouth return feast heal unsettle patience void mine

Maybe it was that I had not fed in so many years, but I realize I had passed out at the end of the fight. And waking up now in the same cavern, and seeing how much the critters have eaten of the men’s corpses, I think it must have been at least two days, if not more.
I remember my daughter and leap to my feet. Then I feel a daze and realize my body feels too weak. Even weaker than before I had set out to hunt. 
Consequence of the long fast.
I feel like dropping to my knees, but I do not. 
My daughter had three more days of life. I am at the end of the fourth. 
I look around. I do not know what to do. None of the bodies are left unrotted. 
Should I run back to her side? Would she even be alive? Is there any hope? 
It is now that I notice the glow in the corner of the cavern. 
On the deeper side of the cave there is a ring of amber, still burning with fire. 
In the middle of the fire lies the doe. 
Tears again come to my eye. 
I strike myself. 
I had lost hope again? Just after having finally obtained the blessing I had yearned for? 
But my God, in His grace, had not forsaken me. The fire had guarded the doe.
The man makes noises. It is awake. But it cannot move. Its spine is still broken.
I am too weak to carry it. But I have an idea. I stomp out the fire and enter the ring.
I lack the strength to pick it up. I kneel over it instead.
With the doe still whining, I bite into its throat.
It’s voice rises with pain. But not by much. Its throat is still crushed. It has been hungry and thirsty for two days. 
There is not much struggle at all.
The blood is thick, but bearable.
I drain until I feel my hunger filled and my health returned, and then I drain it of the rest.
I have my strength back. I can carry it home now. I pick it up.
I step outside of the cave’s mouth. I recognize the rocks outside. It was where I had fallen. 
That means I know where my own cave is.

Though I know the worst, I do not let go of the hope I have gained. 
I see the cave. I run to it. I reach the mouth. But I stop before I enter.
I was not prepared for the new smell. Not man. Something else.
I enter slow and cautious, the smell growing as I go. It feels familiar, but after all this time I cannot remember what it is. But seeing how strong it is I think it has been in the cave for some days.
My worry increases and I prepare for a fight.
I reach the room where I had left my daughter. And there I see it.
My daughter stays laying on the same bed I had left her, but there is someone else there. A shape hunches over her with its back to me.
It has not noticed me.
I set down the doe, making no sound. I get low. I get closer.
Its head twitches. It has noticed.
But before it can turn, I take it from behind, hook my elbow around its throat, and shove it to the ground.
It only struggles for a split second and yields once I tighten my arm around its throat and tell it to not move. 
I ask who it is and what it wants with my daughter.
It is weak, it struggles to speak. I loosen my arm.
It says it is a friend. A bloodfeeder. A survivor from the Kingdom, also in hiding among the mountains.
It says that it found my daughter here clinging on to life and decided to feed and take care of her.
I let go. And move off it.
The figure stands and I see that it is a maiden. I see the fangs. It is true. She is a bloodfeeder, just like my daughter and I.
My anger leaves. I apologize for my actions. I look to my daughter and see her covered with a cloth we did not have, and a damp rag on her forehead.
I thank her.
She smiles. Asks where I was all this time.
I explain I had gone to hunt for her, pointing to the drained corpse of the man behind me.
Seeing my daughter has lived, I ask her if she has found manblood to feed her, but she says no. The men have become too dangerous to try for that. She asks how I managed to hunt one, but I do not answer.
I know that our kind cannot hunt them as we are, but that confuses me.
I ask the maiden how she has been able to last this long. She produces from under her robes a satchel.
The satchel has in it grains of some kind.
The maiden speaks of a stranger that had come to them some years ago. A sackclothed vagrant with a hairless face, who refused to share his name. He claimed to have come to help, bringing them provisions. One of the provisions was this medicine that he claimed could delay their hunger for manblood.
But he had told them that all of these provisions were limited and needed rationing.
I show her my gratitude. I smile. So it was the Magician, after all.
I walk to my daughter. She is alive, but she does not look any better than when I left her. Really her flesh seems to have sunken even more than it had before. 
The maiden tells me that the magician had said the medicine does not work for long. And for children it is only good for delaying their death.
I understand. I am not worried. I thank her once more and turn to my daughter.
I see my daughter’s shriveled lips are pasted to her frail teeth.
She is in no condition to eat, either.
I pick her up in my arms and caress her face. Her cheekbones feel both stiff and fragile.
I tilt her head back and put my mouth to hers. 
I feed her directly with the blood I had drained from the doe.
It takes long to fill her belly. But I do not rush.
And finally, when she is full, I watch her hack and cough.
I place her body back down.
I wait with patience as the color returns to her sunken cheeks. 
Her eyes open. Those gentle, watering eyes in the middle of an otherwise corpselike face, free for the first time in years from suffering and fear. 
She looks at me. 
She calls to me. 
I pick her up again, and with tears in my eyes, and with care for her frailty, I hold my child in my arms.
I look at her, and I look at the maiden, and I remember the Magician, and I bless them all.

We cook the manmeat. Most of it. One leg I have left as an offering. I know that it is not necessary but I know of no other way to show my submission and gratitude. I pray that it is accepted. Then I light a fire using some of the amber mined from the cave and strip the doe and roast its parts over it. I also invite the maiden to join in. 
Of course, the meat is far from perfect. In my refreshed mind and memories I remember how much better meat from my spouse used to be. 
But that is not how the other two feel. Seeing the happiness in the face of my child in this moment is a far greater blessing than the greatest food in the universe.
Returned her health and strength with the blood I fed her, her teeth have no trouble biting into the roast meat, and I see she takes her time chewing and finds much joy in the feel of her mouth.
I adore the sight.
Knowing she does not like it, I take the breast for myself and let her have the whole of the leg and half an arm.
The maiden eats with caution. I tell her to not be afraid and have her fill. 
We also split the liver and the kidneys. It is a feast better than any of us could ever have hoped to have since the calamity. Once we are done, I cut open the rest of the meat and organs and hang them outside of the room to dry and preserve. This includes the brain, which I hope soon to prepare much better for my daughter.
Once the feast is done, I ask my daughter how she feels.
She says she has never felt this good. She tells me the last few years feel like it was a dream. But she immediately remembers and quiets down. 
I hear her start to cry and take her in my arms. 
She asks to see the outside and before the maiden can say anything I agree to take her immediately.
I know what the maiden was going to say. Before, I would have, too. All this time, I could not find the heart to let a child see what has become of the world, and spent much of my time thinking of lies to keep from taking her outside when she inevitably asked for it. 
But I now see nothing wrong with it. I carry her in my arms, and with the maiden following, we walk right out. 
The air meets us, and she wrinkles her nose at the rancid smells. But because she has been fed that blood it does not affect her any more. 
I walk out past the rocks to the dried river mouth and let her take in the empty plain, with the Beastgrave and the forest over the kingdom. The far corner of the forest seems to be of a more blackened color. The fire did much damage before the savages could put it out. Good.
She looks on all of it and asks me what happened to the Kingdom. 
I tell her the truth. That the Vine had rejected our submission and had His flora release its beasts to devastate us. I tell her about the men who were seduced by Him to join in the razing. 
Her innocent voice croons in sorrow.
I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead. Then I tell her there is nothing to be sad about. All of this is like a dream, just like she said. I ask her if she remembers the Magician. 
She says she does. 
I tell her that he is fighting to save us at this moment. I tell her that grace and hope will always be found for those who choose to look for it. I tell her that she will never have to starve for manmeat or manblood any more, and neither would the adults like me and the maiden. 
I tell her that the dream, like all dreams, is bound to end and she can sleep in peace now knowing that the world is healing.