The Watcher - Chapter IV

Paul broke from the treeline, lungs tearing at the seams. He staggered to the riverbank, its dull roar filling his burning ears.

Gasping for breath, he gently lowered Maisie to the ground and collapsed to his hands and knees, his vision hazy. She watched him warily from her perch.

Paul worked his parched tongue, holding it out to the misty air. Crawling carefully forward, he ventured to a gap in the rocks and extended one hand, down into the water.

It spilled through and around his fingers, the force towing his arm, but he managed to cup a mouthful and brought it up to his lips.

He began drinking greedily, splashing his face now and then. Worried, Maisie crawled over to him, patting his arm.

"Paul ...? Papa said ... drinks too fast getcha sick."

Paul paused, looking up at her. Gradually his face broke into a grin. Maisie smiled back, happy to help.

Then the gravity of what had happened hit home. Her chin trembled, face crumpling into an outpour of tears as she pointed at his pocket.

"You stoooled it! I don't waaanna ... be b-bad people!"

Paul rushed over to her, rubbing her shoulders. "Shh, shhh, come on now. We ain't bad."

Maisie sobbed loudly, inconsolable. Thinking for a moment, Paul cradled her face.

"You don't want t' bring those coyotes back, do ya?"

She stopped crying immediately, eyes wide as she shook her head.

"Good. Now, let's get you a drink and clean these clothes off some. Come on."

Paul held a couple mouthfuls up to Maisie, which she sucked in, sputtering. Leading her by the hand, he scanned the river, seeking calmer shallows. Its shores looked different in the morning light, but he recognized them from a few nights prior.

They'd passed by before when searching for new shelter, after a rainstorm flooded their old one. Paul had been watching closely in the moonlight for a cave or cliff to help keep Maisie away from the damp, when a faint chorus of howls drifted up on the breeze.

Panicking, he'd pulled Maisie along in a brisk run, cursing himself for not keeping the danger in mind. Desperately scanning for any manmade lights around him, he'd taken a chance on a dense stretch of forest, away from the sound.

They'd forged ahead together, pushing through the woods until chancing across this river, its bright music echoing through the trees.

Paul knew the best way to mask their scent was crossing the water, but he wasn't sure he could manage to ford in the dark even by himself, let alone with Maisie. As the howling seemed to draw closer, he had run with his sister along the riverbank, surging with relief once the farmhouse windows had revealed their golden glow before them.

Things were different now, in the daytime. Paul peered at a wide, placid bend in the clear waters as he led Maisie along.

"Over here, Punkin. Don't worry if y'r legs get wet, we're about t' clean that dress anyhow."

They reached a submerged cluster of flat river stones, some of them a meter apart. Paul scooped Maisie high into his arms, checking his footing.

"Even if we fall in, it ain't no worry, alright? This current's a soft'un."

"Yep."

Hopping delicately, Paul bounded over the path, taking care to land flat at each step.

Lowering Maisie into the grass, he peeled off her muddy dress and wrapped her in his jacket. Sheepish, he reached into one of its pockets and pulled out the bread crust.

"At least ... finish this while I clean, will you? Before it gets spoilt; there's no use in wastin' good food."

"No!" Maisie waved a finger to and fro and shook her head, frowning. "We ... stoled it."

"Aww come on Punkin, it's not like they'll take it back now! You saw how that farmer sent us off."

"No."

Paul sighed, gripping the crust in his fist. "Alright, I'll eat it then, if you─"

"Noo!" Maisie hobbled up to him, grabbing his wrist. "No Paul, we can't! You said ... we ain't bad."

"You're stoppin' me, too? Well if you won't eat it and I can't either, what then? Where does it go?"

Scrunching up her nose, Maisie considered the question. Then she pointed at the river.

"We ... gotta throw it."

Paul stared at her, incredulous. "What ... did you say?"

"Throow it, Paauul! We ain't the bad people. And then ..." Maisie looked down at her feet. "Wanna piddle."

Paul exhaled loudly, marching to the riverbank. "Fine then, here look."

Flicking his wrist, he sent the crust spinning into the pool. Gesturing toward the green, he knelt down at the shoreline. "Now piddle there while I clean this mess, hurry up. And watch out f'r snakes."

Paul set about wetting her dress in the river, rubbing it gently together to keep the thin cloth from fraying. Maisie waddled over to a patch of grass, parting it suspiciously with her foot.

She'd been busy for a minute or so when she heard Paul whoop excitedly. Looking over, she saw him point into the water, clean dress hanging limp in his hand.

"Well you're a regular ol' lifesaver, Punkin! Lookit."

Finishing up and gathering his jacket, she hurried over to Paul's side, staring down where he stood.

A rabble of tiny fish teemed beneath the surface, squabbling over submerged tatters of bread. Larger ones hovered underneath them, their dark mottle of scales concealed amidst the dirty gravel below.

Maisie clapped her hands, jumping in place as she yelled alongside him. Paul handed her the dress, tying its top ends together.

"Here, you try catchin' some with this." He glanced up at the sky. "The day'll get warmer soon, so we'll dry y'r dress out later. And here."

Paul took off his shirt, handing it to Maisie. "Wear this, an’ give me back my jacket. I'm goin' further upstream, there's probably a narrower spot somewhere to catch 'em crossin’ at."

Maisie gingerly put on his shirt, the fabric hanging past her knees. Then she brandished the dress, eying her prey carefully.

Paul pulled off his pants and tied both the ankles shut, gripping his makeshift net by the waistband. Putting on his jacket, he began walking upstream, calling over his shoulder.

"The first sign o’ trouble, you drop ev'rything and run back t’ me. Oh, and make sure t' throw what you catch way out on the grass! Otherwise those suckers'll slide back in."

"I knowed that already, Paul! Gosh."

She didn't.

Chuckling, Paul wandered out of sight. Maisie took off her shoes and waded into the pool, shivering as the water gripped her shanks.

She still felt bad about catching fish with stolen bread, but she hadn't voiced those concerns to Paul; it wasn't like the fish were stolen too.

And Paul was probably real hungry.

The bigger ones all looked pretty scary, so she approached the babies instead. She tried hard not to splash with her legs, but the fry milled about heedlessly anyway, jockeying for bites of the crust.

Biting her lip, Maisie plunked her dress down at the crowd, breathless. She raised it carefully, checking inside the ballooned fabric. Empty.

She waited a while for the mass to reform, then tried again. Still nothing. Flapping her dress at the miscreants, she shrieked with frustration.

This was her one chance to repay Paul for everything, and she was screwing it all up.

"Damn shoot, piddly-damnit! Dumb stoopind piddling poopybutt fatties─"

Those aren't nice words, Pumpkin.

She looked behind her, frightened. Watcher was sitting down in the grass, bony hands laced in his lap. His horse was nowhere to be seen.

She scoffed at him, turning back around. "Leave me alone ... dumb skellytin."

Well, that's not so nice either. What wrong did I ever do?

"Go away."

I'll be back another time, when you feel like behaving. What would Paul say?

"I don't ... care."

What would your father say?

Maisie froze, embarrassed.

"Punkin!"

Her head whipped toward the sound. Paul approached with a grin, pants dripping in his hand. "Any luck?"

She lowered her gaze, dejected. "No ... I can't."

"Well, that ain't a worry now." Paul opened his net. A half-dozen meaty fish lay motionless within, glinting like greased iron.

Maisie's heart raced; she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen that much food in one place.

"Let's go find a place t' try a cookfire, come on. We gotta dry out these clothes too. And I found somethin' else you might like."

"Really?" She couldn't believe what a day it had been. First all of these fishies, and now a surprise?

Paul nodded, beaming. He led her along the riverbank, blowing into his palms to warm them. Maisie followed suit.

Nearing a thick spray of shrubs, they passed carefully through, checking for animals in the dirt. Flat ground soon gave way to a small hill, and Paul held Maisie's hand as they both climbed upward.

Cresting the swell, Paul pointed theatrically.

A bright spill of marigolds peppered the surrounding grass, bristling up like a crown from their bed. Their hardy petals held in the autumn cold, only a few wilted at the tips.

Maisie's heart swelled with excitement. These were all the same flowers from her dream!

She sprinted out amongst them, tearing big handfuls of petals and stuffing them into Paul's pockets as she sang. "Faerie-pincess, faerie-pincess!"

Paul laughed in delight, stooping to sniff a few appreciatively.

"We can come back later, but we have t' build a fire soon. These clothes ain't dryin' themselves. Just make sure─"

Something snapped loudly behind them. Both siblings wheeled around, their blood running cold.

A short, dark man stood at a distance, slim stacks of twigs packed between his heavy fists. His hair was thick and black, swept back from its fringes into a long ponytail, and a tan pelt completely covered his body.

"Paaul ...?" Maisie moaned fearfully, clutching her brother's fingers.

"Easy, Punkin. I'm here." Paul dropped the fish onto the ground and slid his other hand into his jacket, clutching something.

The stranger examined the pair, glancing down at their bundle. He slowly lowered the kindling onto the earth and backed away, hands raised.

He spoke some words loudly, which neither sibling understood. Then he cocked his head at Maisie.

Smiling broadly, he waved down at her, whistling like a bird.

After a moment, Maisie let go of Paul, visibly relieved.

Looking up at him, she bounced up and down, eyes glowing with triumph.

"See Paul, I toold you! We're not the bad people!"