Forsaken An American Sasquatch Tale - By Christine Conder Page 0,2
double whammy—and her stomach objected, threatened to give back the half-chewed berries she’d eaten. Her mother, out of breath and shaking, landed next to her in a heap.
* * *
Liberty and Sarah huddled in the dugout, waiting for the hunters to pass over. Twigs cracked overhead and heavy footfalls scuffed through the woody debris that littered the forest floor. Every hard snap of kindling amplified in the pit, jolted Liberty’s insides. Her mother jerked as someone or something kicked an acorn, it rolling into their hiding place and landing on her bare foot. Liberty shook. She felt like a rabbit cornered in a dead end thicket as the hunters closed in above them.
Sarah tightened her arms around Liberty. Liberty imagined her mother thought the gesture would soothe, but between the adrenaline surges, the small pit, and the commotion above, the embrace felt like a restraint.
Liberty closed her eyes and tried to steady her pounding heart. Breathing in the musty air she could almost believe she was back at Proem.
The men trailed off, circled back, called out to one another in excited, hushed whispers. Goosebumps formed over Liberty’s body as she resisted the urge to scream, hanging on to her sanity one second at a time.
“You sure it came this way?” a voice asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You think, you don’t know?”
“Yes,” the voice sounded agitated, “I’m positive. And there were two of them.”
“Two?”
“Shut up and look.”
It. Them. Liberty knew what they meant. She focused on her surroundings. The dugout, a temporary safe place, existed for emergencies. Quite fitting with them hunkered down in the cramped space, naked bodies pressed together for warmth as they listened to men discuss them like they were animals. She peered into the darkness. Why hadn’t whoever created the space thought of arming it so they could defend themselves?
Liberty pondered the idiocy of it for a few moments, then started to feel around. She located the acorn, picked it up and placed it in her mother’s hand. She pulled Sarah close and whispered into her ear, “Can’t you throw this back the other way? They’ll chase after the noise.”
Diversion. A tactic they used to stay alive in situations like the one they were in. It worked most of the time, or so she’d been told.
Sarah shook her head. “It’s too little.”
Sarah handed it back and Liberty dropped it, feeling around for a stick, a rock, an object with substance. All she found was packed dirt and pebbles. Aboveground, they could read auras, bustle, use strength to defend themselves. But as humans, they only had each other.
As the sound of the hunters grew close again, her mother whispered, “Be brave.”
Sarah covered Liberty’s mouth before Liberty had a chance to respond, so she nodded. She might not be great at making her way around the woods on her own, but she happened to be okay in bravery. Earlier in the year, before the sanctions, she’d successfully stood against her first opponent, a black bear. Her father had patted her on the head, seemed proud of her for bustling and not backing down. Didn’t matter the bear had been a yearling and quite easy to control with her thoughts.
“I’m sorry baby, I made a mistake,” Sarah said, “but I promise we’ll be safe if you do everything I tell you.”
Liberty nodded, still muffled by her mother’s hand. Her ear felt damp from the warm breath and she shivered. Sarah held her daughter tighter, rocked her a little and smoothed her hair, which had fallen out of the braids. For a moment Liberty felt like a baby in Sarah’s arms. She surrendered and let herself be comforted.
A shout ended the moment of peace. Liberty glanced up, then looked at her mother, noticing mud streaked down Sarah’s cheeks like war paint. She held her breath, tried her hardest to make herself invisible, and waited motionless. The man called out again. Would they ever give up?
“Ray, you see anything over there?”
“Nah. I’m going back to camp to get the dog. Keep your ears open ‘til I get back.”
“Don’t be stupid. By the time you return they’ll be long gone.”
“Lucy’s a good tracker,” the Ray person said. “She’ll pick ‘em up before they get too far.”
Sarah stared down at her and Liberty didn’t recognize the expression. Her eyes looked fierce, almost feral the way they flicked from Liberty, to the surface, and then back again. For the first time that night, Liberty questioned their safe escape.
The hunters walked as they talked, their voices getting