The Rabbit Dies Pt. 08

The water swirls in our collective hovel. Ebbing and flowing, ebbing and flowing, sloshing and tipping and rocking the boat. Slightly less hungry, but I need to do something. I need to get out of the boat, to swim to shore in the cold water and I don't know how. I am a killer and I am not a swimmer. I need to get up and do something, but nothing comes to mind. Nothing at all. I watch the water swirl and flow like a river, downhill, always downhill. Never uphill or side hill or in hill. Always downhill.

But not this water, I notice. It flows away in a path, but not a straight path. It loops on itself. Down hill once, then up hill, then side hill all at the same spot. Water should not act like that. But it does, swirling and dancing in and out of the little pond that Annette has made.

I get up to the rain. The rivers and the ponds formed over my stature form come crashing down into a waterfall, disturbing the flow for the briefest of moments. But it asserts itself once again. AN idea, that is not the statement of what I am has come and I will follow it to the ends of the earth just so that it remains strong and virile. My hands find a handful of grass blades and set them in the current.

They trace the flow as they should, bobbing on the surface like a mighty armada. Annette and Amaru watch with concerned interest as they think I have gone mad. I might have. I am, probably. Too many hits, not just to the head, but in general.

"Claire," Annette says, "What are you doing?"

"The water isn't flowing right," I say, "So I'm going to see where it goes."

She sighs and slowly gets up as well.

"Not like we can get any more soaked. You coming, Lop Ear?"

Amaru just shakes his head, happy that he has a little more space to spread out. I would be too. The cave is tiny and Amaru does not fit into tiny places, unless they are mine or Annette's. I contemplate stripping, just to give my skin a break from the damn wet clothes, but the thought dies on the vine. There wouldn't be a convenient place to slot my hammer if I was nude.

The water is well and fully up to our ankles now, sloshing and splashing and muddling the road to a swamp. It continues to suck at my boots trying to drag me down, down, down as I move forward. That is not the way the mid and the river want me to go, but I have to follow the grass clippings I've so lovingly set adrift. Swooping and diving, so many dancing blades that flow and whirled and entwine together. Knots and handheld moments down river and Annette and I keep on chaperone detail so nothing gets violated.

"What's going on with you and Amaru," Annette asks. I am too busy looking at the blades of grass. They keep doubling back and circling nothing at all. Not the easiest thing to track.

"Claire," she says, "Claire, now is not the time to not talk about this. Both you and Amaru have been super weird and I don't like it. You haven't even had sex with either of us since we left the lake. Neither has Amaru. That's weird. Don't tell me that's not weird. When it was just us, it was like three times a day if you wanted to take it slow. I'm surprised we got to Goldenrod at all."

I take a deep breath. I do not want to lose the flow, but she's right. I can do this. I can multitask.

"He's scared of me," I say, "When he was bandaging me up, he said he was scared of me. I killed the Cout guy right in front of him and it's getting somewhere deep. He called me a killer."

"I mean, you are. And I'm not judging you on that. You made that choice and I don't mind that much. If you go off the edge and start liking it, then we'll have to have a talk. But you can do that. And I can do that. What's his deal then?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. I think he's just not used to that. I think the first time he's ever really seen violence, like really seen it, was at the theater and I don't know if that counts."

"You choked out a succubus. I'd say that's violence."

"But she didn't die from it. She just fed on me and my lust and went on her way. Cout's guy was something different. He saw that. He saw the moment I brought the hammer down."

"Then I have to ask the question. Are you... ashamed, might not be the right word for it, but ashamed of how that went down? Regretting, might be a better one."

"Not at all. He was a threat. He had hurt me and was threatening Amaru. Same with the kid."

"Ok then. Do you think its going to go that far when we figure out the rainmaker kerfuffle?"

"I don't know. I'm still in the processing part of all this. If we find out and whoever it is just goes, eh, you got me, I might let them walk. After a good scare and maybe a black eye."

"I don't know how to make this better Claire. This isn't my connection. This is between you and Amaru. And if he can't get over that part of you, then I don't know."

"That's the part that has me all mixed up. I don't want him to go. I don't want him to be afraid of me."

She shrugs and a curtain of rain drapes down her back. What exposed skin I can see has started to wrinkle with gooseflesh, pockmarking the black with small green stretches.

"That's a hang up he has, Claire. And it's not an unfair one. If he decides to walk from this, then that's his decision. You can't just put him in your pocket and carry him around if he doesn't want that."

"I know. I know. But is it so bad to want that?"

"Not really. Just means you love him. Would you put me in a pocket and carry me around?"

"No. I don't have to worry about you. I've seen what you can do."

She sighs and another sheet of water runs off of her.

"Not what I wanted to hear, Claire. I want to be in your pocket too. And then you can be in mine. The analogy's starting to break down I think, but you know what I mean. And I know what you mean. Just don't coddle him. He's an adult and he has a real grievance with you that might end this. You need to talk it out and if he doesn't want to talk it out then, we just sit in the rain and sulk and nobody has sex and what sex we do have is terrible and short and unsatisfying. I don't want that at all. I'm traveling with two Burrowmeisters and I can still walk. That's a crime. Don't tell me it's not."

The grass continues its way down stream and I want to hit something again. The rocks are right there, just sitting out in the middle of the field like nothing was wrong. I am going to hit them and nothing can stop me, nothing at all. Everyone will be proud and happy once I've hit the rocks. Annette closes her eyes and turns to the clouds as if they would finally decide that this is enough. There is never enough. There will only be rain forever more. And nothing can stop that. Fate and the universe and the will of the space between atoms has decided that there will only be rain. We will be wiped clean with the great flood and all shall start anew.

Annette holds up a hand and I stop. Tilting her head back and forth, back and forth in the rain, she reaches for one of her daggers.

"I'm hearing a voice," she whispers, "Not Amaru's. A lady, I think. Not sure. The rain's making it hard to pick out anything specific."

Hand to hammer like I haven't learned anything from this. I haven't. Not really. Unknown equals threat until proven otherwise, and that has kept me where I am today. I would definitely be down a limb or a hand if I didn't keep it on my weapon. A few more steps forward and I can hear it too, something dripping in the air through the burbles or rain dops. And I hear the deep avalanche rumble of Amaru's response.

No words, no meaning other than the slight shifts in infections, but he' is torn, I can feel that much as we approach.

"If you make the rain stop," he says, "I think we can find some more common ground."

At least he's trying to get a better position.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," says a high voice of still water, "I was told to let the rain in and never let it stop. So, I can't stop it. But we can stay here a while longer. Just talking. Just letting the water rise. I know that the cold can be scary, but the embrace of the waves is loving."

"I can't breathe water, man."

"No matter, no matter. Madam Soddal will still accept you."

I come to the mouth of our encampment to find Amaru still stretched out, head poking above the waves, talking to a slight Hellion of deep blue horn curling into a sandy gold, spiral twisting and almost scraping the rock of the ceiling. She seems surprised that we came back. The hammer, the hammer is drawn and free and looking down at the skull as a target. She wisely holds up his hands and tries to back herself away.

"Salutations friends," she says, "My name is Sam. I have been entertaining your companion while you attended to your curiosity."

"Make the rain stop or I bash your skull in," I say.

"I don't like either of those options, I'm afraid. Can we do neither?"

"No."

I raise the hammer up above my head and prepare.

"Claire, stop," says Amaru. To my surprise, I do.

"I'm also afraid that the rain won't stop upon my death," Sam says, "Do kill me if you must. I imagine that it must feel incredibly satisfying to do so. I would just prefer that you wouldn't."

I slowly let the hammer fall with a deep splash. Just like us, Ms. Sam is soaked to the bone, although she doesn't seem to be as bothered by it as we are. She just sits in solemn contemplation of the flow of the water.

"I had to call in a lot of favors to get this whole thing set up," she says, "But I think it was worth it. The Weavers do not want you to do what you have been asked."

"Claire," says Amaru, "He's told me that we're up to something bad."

"I have. Although, I am not quite certain of the details myself. I have heard from the council that you should not reach the Lilac Frontier. So here we are and here we shall stay until the water rises. It will be good for the grass, I think. The Rossa doesn't get much rain. It's long overdue."

"You know why we're going, don't you," Amaru says.

"Yes. Had a nice talk with Warren. And I'll tell your new best friend too. If he stops the rain."

"I have already called it. It will continue to fall until there are no more drops to come down. So, we wait. Would you like to play a game to pass the time? I have a set of dice."

"Claire. What are we doing here? What's at the Lilac Frontier?"

I take my fingers to my temples and start to pull at the skin. It doesn't make the thought any easier to wrap my mind around, but it gives the impression that it does.

"Warren asked me to kill him," I say.

And the rain stops for just a brief moment. Sam looks to me with wide eyes, hand frozen in her pack, fumbling for her dice. Amaru's the same. Even Annette looks to me in shock.

"Claire," Amaru says to the light drizzle, "Claire, are you sure?"

"'You're going to the Frontier to kill me.' His exact words. So, I'm going to the Frontier to kill him."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Amaru, I'm a killer. I kill things. I look to living bodies that say, 'please let me live' and I say no. What do think I would say to a body that said, 'please kill me?'"

Sam is doing her best to make herself as tiny and unassuming as possible. She whispers words and looks to the dice, rolling and rerolling as fast as her hands can allow. The rain fluctuates with each number coming up.

"That is incredibly..."

"Reckless," says Annette. Her lips do not smile with the music of her words because there is no music too them. Sam keeps rolling the dice. I think she gets all sixes from the way the sky opens up and the thunder threatens to turn our hideout to rubble.

"I agree," I say, "But I'm still doing it."

They all look to me, Sam still glancing at the dice every other moment.

"Do you trust Warren?" I ask.

And they all take a minute to think it over. Annette just shrugs and says nothing. Sam is absorbed with his dice.

"I've never spoken with him," Amaru says, "So I don't know. I really, really don't know."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Annette says. Sam fumbles and one of the dice goes flowing off into the grass. She swears but keeps rolling the rest of the set. Crazy weather we're having. Amaru thinks for a long, long moment and each second is agony. I want him to say yes. He should say yes. But I don't want him to say anything at all, because it could just as easily be no.

"Claire," he says, "I... I do trust you. But this is big. Like really, really big. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I only found out at the lake. Before that, I really didn't know. And you had just figured out what I am. Seemed like it would be too much."

He slumps against the rock wall and takes his head in his hands. Annette heaves a sigh and lets the emotion wash away with the rain. She already trusts me and she stated as much. She is a woman of her word, despite the laughs that come with the meaning. Detached, off in her own little reality that I happen to poke my way into whenever it comes across my path. I finally decide that it is best to join them all in the mud, and the rainwater.

"Sam," I say, "Please stop rolling the dice. You're not helping your case right now. Just give it up." Heavy, everything is so heavy and I do not know if I can lift it again.

"I can't do that," she says, "Soddal told me that I had to stop you and now I know, I know I do. The flood, I must make the rain turn to the flood and wash away all this. Soddal's will. She told me this was her will."

"I did no such thing," says a voice of cold hail and booming thunder. The water starts its boiling ripple off in the plains. The grass blades I set adrift collect and spin towards the epicenter, off in the field. A moment, everything is still for a moment, before the grass starts to part and something flows towards us once again.

A bloated corpse, drowned and soaked, flows to the edge of our hovel. The head moves and I can't tell if it's the current doing it or the flesh and the tendon. But Sam immediately drops down to her hands and knees, muttering every single prayer that she knows. Amaru does the same and Annette averts her eyes, casting them to the ground. I throw my head back and thunk my skull against the wet rock.

"Hand me the dice," the voice burbles from the blue lips. The glass eyes glance over me for the briefest of moments and I can't breathe.

The current takes a limp hand and holds it out to the acolyte. One dice already sits there and waits for its brethren. With trembling grip, four more join the stack. The current moves again and makes the dice roll on the last remaining bit of dry ground. They all come up blank.

It's a beautiful day once again, smelling of dry grass and a passed storm. Deep morning of indigo and ember orange stretch over the horizon. Even in the lingering bright, the moon shines down almost all the way full. The water still sits, but I can feel the earth taking it in, ever so slowly. A handful of clouds hang at the edge of the horizon. They could come back, if the word was so given.

"The order came from the Weavers, didn't it, my devotee," says Soddal.

"Yes, Madam," says Sam, "And they said it came from you."

"And they lied to you. Spring always needs its rain. I would not have anyone act against Warren and his will. Come, my devotee, leave your new friends. I believe we have an issue to discuss."

Dutiful Sam takes her moment to exit our little enclave. She does not meet my eyes as she walks past. She does not give a word.

"Tell the nice lady you're sorry," Soddal says. The clouds threaten another boom of thunder and lightning and another flood.

"Sorry," Samuel mutters.

I do not forgive her or give her any sort of response. She knows that I am right and there is a deep smug pride in my core that I do not dismiss at all. They wander off into the receding tide.

---

The rocks are dry, finally. The sun baked them clean and dry as it did with all of us. I am happy to just sit in the sun and wait. The wind came back and it came back soft, rippling the grass like waves to the horizon and back. We could just get a boat and carry on with the current, soaking up the sky without a care in the world. Annette keeps wringing out her shirt, still finding new pockets of moisture that she does not want on her skin. Amaru and I have taken a more passive approach and have decided to sun ourselves like lowly lizards. His eyes are closed, face down to the rock. He almost blends into the stone. I do not turn my eyes away from him, even as he turns to his back and sees me watching him.

"That's a little creepy," he says. But he doesn't turn away. He shifts a little, propping his head on his shoulders and looking to me. I like it when he looks at me.

"I think we need to have a talk," I say.

"About what? The fact that you want to kill a god?"

"I don't want to, Ammy. I was asked to kill a god by said god because I assume he wants to die. And people don't want me to kill a god, so I kind of want to try. Just for spite."

"That's not a good reason to kill someone."

"If someone stops you from doing something, that's usually a good reason to keep doing it."

"You stopped the hammer when it was about to kill Sam."

"I honestly kind of forgot his name already."

"Why do you do it like this? Why do you walk this path?"

"Because I already started down it and now there's just momentum keeping it me on there. I don't see any reason to get off it really."

"You're insane." That's honestly better than calling me a killer. The sting and the emotions behind it are the same as the other word. No barbs, no spines to it. Just simple incredulous belief as to what I am.

"Yes I am."

And he laughs, he laughs so deep and rumbling in his chest I am certain that the rocks will turn to dust in some tectonic disaster that splits the mountains. Annette takes a moment to stop attending to the laundry now that there is noise to listen to.

"Are you just now figuring that out, Lop Ear?" she says.

"I guess I am. How about you Annette? When did you know?"

"First time I met her. This was, what? Almost 10 years ago now. I was working with a Way of White sort of attached to Padre Paz Lozano, so I was healing everyone. You were on the other side and saw me healing someone you just, y'know, and decided to take that personally."

"And you still decided to hop on this?"

"This one? Yeah. But it took 10 years of fighting to get me here. You had your dreams. I had battlefields. Different path, but same place at the end."

Amaru goes back to his contemplation, back to stone and eyes to sky as he takes in the world.

"I have no idea what you are," he says. There is sadness there at the edges, but mostly, it is curious. A little bit of fear, too. That is fair. The unknown always has a bit of fear mixed with it.

"What do you want me to be then?"

"I want you to be you. And I guess that means you're a killer. I knew that. You told me you did this. And I'm not going to sit here and judge you for that when you were so honest with it. I didn't judge you then and I'm not going to judge you now. I didn't realize that at the time."

"Amaru, I still want to be with you. I don't know if you want to be with me. I want you to. But I'm not going to force you to do anything."

Amaru goes quiet for a long, long time.

"I will see this through. I'm not going to walk away from this. And I'm not going to walk away from you."

I kiss him. I kiss him and he tastes like sun baked stones left on a summer's afternoon. There are pine trees and clear waters running from the mountains and all I can do is kiss him and taste him and thank every god that has gotten out of my way that he is there for me and he kisses me back.

My core tightens immediately. I do not control it. I do not want to control it. I just let it build and grow and lap at my insides until the heat of sun pales in comparison to my lips and my tongue. I burn the man of mountain stones and rocks until he melts into slag.