Chapter Four
Jasper stabbed the shovel into the ground and tossed the dirt onto the growing pile. The muscles in his arms and back burned with fatigue. He stopped long enough to wipe the sweat away from his eyes with the back of his forearm before returning to his task. He concentrated on the shovel and the dirt, never letting himself think of why he was digging; to do so resulted in him collapsing to the ground in fit of uncontrollable sobs.
The graves dug, Jasper sat and stared at them, trying to find the will to go back into the cabin. Though it was just a matter of minutes, it seemed like hours before he was finally able to stand. He stopped short at the sight of the dirty, bloodied young man in the hall mirror. The wild blue eyes stared back at him. Jasper raised a hand to the streak of mud that ran from under his left eye, over his nose, to his right ear.
Jasper moved his mother first. He knelt beside her, his hands running through her fur. Knowing he would never be able to move the tigress with just his hands, he gingerly looped a rope around her chest and dragged her, with difficulty, to the edge of her grave. He employed the same method with his father who, although he didn’t weigh as much as his mate in her tiger form, still outweighed his son by a good fifty pounds. Once his parents were lying in their eternal beds, he mechanically made his way back to the cabin.
“Sweet Jane.” He barely choked out the words as he picked her up gently and carried her outside. He made one last trip into the cabin, wrapped Jared in his favorite quilt, and laid his little brother in their sister’s arms.
His fingers protested as they closed around the handle of the shovel and he ignored the screaming of his shoulders as he started to shovel the dirt back into the graves. He didn’t stop until the last of the dirt had been moved. He stood with his head bowed, the tears smearing the dirt and blood together. His chest heaved from the exertion and sobs that raked through him. Something deep inside of him ached. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt. His heart jumped into his throat and he stiffened at the sound of a branch breaking behind him. His hand moved to the dagger on his belt.
“Jasper, it’s me.”
He didn’t relax at the sound of Klaira’s voice.
“Where are you staying tonight?” Klaira’s father started toward him, but stopped short as Jasper’s eyes met his. In all his years on the Queen’s guard, he’d yet to see such anger, hate and pain in another man’s eyes.
“I have to tell Luke.”
Klaira’s eyes widened. “Jasper, you can’t!” Her family was one of the few who knew of Luke’s true origins. “You’ll be killed if you cross the border! You don’t even know where he’s staying!”
“He needs to know.” Suddenly, the only thing Jasper could feel was the need to find his brother. He gave the graves one last look, nodded a farewell to Klaira, and shifted before bounding into the woods to the south.
Ghosts: A Quelondain Short Page 3
