Within Walls: Chapter 2

Mebre was still discovering just how alone she was

Chapter 2

Mebre was still discovering just how alone she was when the ground began to shake. The morning after watching the stars fall, Mebre saw her home, along with every other shack and shanty of Hyr Golos, reduced to rubble. That was two days ago.

She’d long daydreamed of escaping the hyr in which she spent the first fourteen summers of her life. None of those lazy escapes, flown through while lounging on the rooftop above Pa’s workshop, had prepared her for the loneliness, and fear of actually leaving home.

Sometime in the afternoon she crossed from Hyr Golos into Hyr Yugehn. The border was marked with a wooden arch made from two poles like masts holding up what looked like a sail boom. Even without the arch, the buildings cut a clear line. The houses in Hyr Yugehn were square, solid and all the same. It felt strange to walk among such uniform dwellings. She felt like an intruder having grown up among weather-beaten shacks, each one built up with salvaged scraps: awnings of sailcloth, retired fishnets turned makeshift fences, a second story built of sun-bleached deck planks. She’d known her whole life that the people of Hyr Golos were poor, but seeing the number of still standing houses in Hyr Yugehn clarified the disparity.

In the dwindling dusk she walked along a broad dirt avenue lined on both sides with similar houses, all dark, except one. Light from an oil lamp within turned that window into a beacon. It wasn’t the first time Mebre had seen hope since the world went wrong, and that was why she could feel the creeping dread.

Mebre could tell that whatever it was that happened in Hyr Golos had done the same to Hyr Yugehn. She’d passed by countless houses with no sign of people, so when she saw the light in the window, she almost hadn’t believed it.

Mebre sat there, staring, still wrestling her apprehension. She had to knock, there were people inside. She’d seen shadows moving on the other side of the window. She’d even caught a glimpse of a woman about Ma’s age, though tall, spindly and dark-haired where Ma was solid, deep-rooted and lion-maned. There was at least one other person inside: someone bigger, judging by the shadow. Not knowing about the unseen other kept Mebre anchored with fear.

It would have been much simpler if these were the first people she’d come across. But they weren’t. Her instincts at first told her she’d have to rely on herself once Ma and Pa disappeared, along with everyone else. Almost everyone else. She’d discovered a body: the hand reaching out from under the fallen roof caught her attention before she noticed the crooked angle and curled fingers. Then, when she thought she had shelter in the only house still standing in Hyr Golos, she found the Captain hanging from a belt tied to a rafter.

It was after she closed the captain’s door that the clammers came, two of them. The men who worked the clam flats had a rough life, and they had little regard for anyone else. The whole of Hyr Golos knew they were trouble. Young girls were constantly warned to give them a wide berth. No doubt they wanted the same thing from the Captain’s house as she did, but with them there she’d run harder and longer than she ever had in her life.

While she tried to pull together the courage to knock she remained at her vantage point staring at the door, the window, the woman, whenever she came into view. From time to time Mebre’s eyes would drift skyward to the stars, all a mess since that night. Miya was still missing her wings, and her hunter, Doren, was no longer a bear. He was now just the bright star that had been his tail plus empty space and then his shoulders. The whole sky was full of missing stars.

It was the moon that got her into motion. That ghostly crescent drifted up from behind the dark bulk of an empty house while her indecision kept her rudderless. Mebre couldn’t shake the horror she’d felt watching it cycle to full and down to an early sliver before going dark. She closed the distance at just below a run.

Mebre watched her knuckles strike the unpainted slats of the door face, their impact against the wood barely audible beneath the drumming of her fear. She hadn’t found the courage to ask for help, she’d fled from being alone under the light of that liar moon.

She felt a frozen hush on the other side of the door. She’d been heard, were they as afraid as she? The door hid both sides from each other. She knocked again, having committed herself to making contact.

She heard a patter of feet and the door burst open. Light from within burst out and just as quickly was swallowed in darkness and a smothering embrace.

“Oh Seyneb! You came back to us!” The woman’s voice tearfully joyous made its way through the muffle of her hug.

“Is it her? Is it her?” Came a man’s voice, deep and expectant.

“Of course it is!”

Mebre felt herself being pulled into the house. She heard the door shut behind her and felt the woman relax her grip. Mebre braced for their disappointment.

“That’s not Seyneb.” The man’s voice dripped with dashed hope.

An empathetic tightening took hold of Mebre’s throat. She struggled with the words, but got them out. “No, I’m not, I'm Mebre.” Her voice crackled with the sobs she fought to keep down.

She heard a grunt from the other side of the room but the woman’s arms were around her again. Soothing shushing sounds smothered Mebre while a gentle hand softly rubbed her back.

“No, no of course sweet child. You’re safe, you’re safe.” The woman spoke in a mom’s voice, Mebre’d heard it many times from the other moms of Hyr Golos. Mebre’s own Ma spoke like that judiciously, making each time the more precious. This woman was well practiced in mom-voice.

Mebre was released and a handkerchief was dabbed at her cheeks drying tears that might have come naturally but the woman’s strong squeeze had rushed them.

“Mebre, I’m Zayaf.” She placed her hand on her chest and then indicated the large bearded man by the table. “That’s Beylem, my husband.” His arms were folded atop a solid looking belly, The deep bronze of his forearms and the meaty shape of his hands said he’d spent many days working the sea. He was thicker, sturdier than any fisherman in Hyr Golos. This was a man nourished by his catch, who only sold what he didn’t eat. Again he only grunted at Mebre, his face was a hard stare.

Mebre leaned on her rarely-remembered manners, hoping to smooth her intrusion. “Good tides to both of you.”

“Awww, I haven’t heard that greeting in ages, where are you from sweetie?”

Before Mebre could answer Beylem spoke. “Hyr Golos by the look of her.”

She should have expected that level of scorn, but hearing it made her drop her head. She grimaced, keenly aware of the worn and patched trousers made from reused sailcloth and her simple shirt, once a flour sack. The kerchief holding her hair back was the only decent piece of clothing on her: a blue bit of nice cotton with interlocking white triangles. It had belonged to Ma’s ma, back in her home, away off in Hyr Besat.

“I’ll bet you’ve not eaten in days, girl.” Zayaf continued the mom-voice. “Sit with us, I’ll fix you a bowl.”

Mebre’s stomach grumbled as if in agreement, though it had only been one day. She’d managed a bit of bread and soup from the Captain’s kitchen.

“After that I’ll run a comb through that mess of hair and get you settled into Seyneb’s bed.”

“She can eat, but she sleeps on the floor.” Beylem’s voice was hard as a salt encrusted dock post. “Come light, she leaves.”

---