Dark Feather: A Dark Post Apocalyptic Romance

by Hensley,Alta

  I took in another breath and glanced out the small window of my hut, staring at the night sky. At this location in the icy land, the stars were clearly visible at night, and this was something I enjoyed. I loved to watch the stars, but I didn’t love sleeping in this kind of hut.

  But then again, it was a hut that all soldiers had to sleep in. As part of Cyan’s army, I was required to sleep in the same location as all the other men. Higher ranking soldiers were assigned to a sleeping unit that was big enough to hold a sleeping mat, a small table, and had enough room to walk around. Others were assigned to group huts big enough to sleep several. Being the only female, I had my own. But I missed the simple tents we used when we went off to battle. The huts surrounding Rigby’s home in Danis seemed permanent, and permanence scared me. I preferred the freedom of the open icy land and the ability to pick up at a moment’s notice.

  I would rather ride around the icy land at night on a snowmobile instead of being confined to a living space. I wasn’t born to spend my nights in a small sleeping hut. I was born to roam the world and explore all there was to explore. Sleep never came easy, for my mind stayed busy no matter how exhausted I was.

  I turned onto my back after wincing again. I took in another deep breath and gathered saliva in my mouth before spitting it out. After spending so much time out in the icy land, I had become accustomed to the feeling of snow and grit in my teeth. At first, that had bothered me, but now it was almost something I bypassed every day. I just learned to spit it out and deal with it.

  The soldier in the next sleeping hut over groaned, the sound easily relaying the pain he was in. He had suffered a great leg wound in the last battle. The battle that had wiped out nearly half of Rigby’s army. I blinked and shuddered at the thought of all who had died. The only saving grace was the last battle was won. Honor had been regained. And as much as I hated to admit it, we’d had no choice but to head back to Danis, where Rigby resided, to build up our forces, heal, and prepare for another war.

  Even though I was hardly haunted by my past fights, this past battle stuck with me, and even gave me nightmares. Fighting against a side that was once mine, ate at my soul. I was an expert archer, but the last fight had tested my strength, my mental capacity, and my bravery. While I had made it out alive, half of the army had not.

  Now that the battle was over, the courtyard where the army slept seemed much quieter than usual. Everything seemed motionless as everyone was still in a mourning state for the fellow fighters lost. The man in the hut on my other side had succumbed to his wounds from the battle, and even though he had snored like a pig and kept me up at night, I found myself willing to do anything to hear that snore again.

  A rustling sound startled me, and I bolted up into a sitting position, my senses heightened. I sat there in the dark, staring in the direction of the entrance to my hut. Through the small slit at the bottom of the cloth door, I saw slight shadows caused by the light of a candle, and carefully got to my feet.

  Without making a sound, I moved to the other side of the hut and retrieved my small knife, sharp and gleaming in the moonlight. By now, I had trained long enough to not cower in the face of danger, no matter how large and terrifying it was. Even if this danger was enough to kill me, backing down from a fight would never be an option.

  Swallowing a mouthful of grit and courage, I took a step forward, my blade in front of me.

  Then the cloth door disappeared in the blink of an eye, and a rider on a snowmobile drove to the entrance. The rider held a lantern high above his head. All I could see was the shadow of the rider and my heart rate spiked, sending shudders throughout my body. We had just defeated the enemy. The last thing I wanted was to fight again.

  “Remain calm, Tudor,” came a soothing, deep voice.

  I immediately dropped the blade that I’d readied for attack and let out a sigh. “What the hell do you think you were doing, storming into my doorway on a snowmobile? I almost killed you,” I said stiffly, bending to retrieve my knife, automatically cleaning dirt from the blade. I slipped the blade back into its sheath and turned back to face the soldier. “What is the meaning of this midnight meeting? Are we off to battle again after we just fought?”

  The soldier, still clad in his battle tunic, slid off his snowmobile and paced into my hut, drawing the cloth door shut. Shaking his head, he placed the lantern on the ground and dug in his satchel for a scroll wrapped together with a silky red ribbon.

  “This is for you,” the soldier said, handing me the rolled paper.

  I stared at him and felt a lump form in the back of my dry throat. “Who is this from?”

  “Rigby,” the soldier said, placing the scroll in my hands.

  I stared at him for a long moment.

  “I would suggest opening it, as it requires an urgent and immediate response,” the soldier prompted, gesturing to the scroll.

  I let out a soft sigh but removed the ribbon. Before I opened the letter, however, I reveled in the touch of fine satin. Then I unrolled the scroll and read through the black script. It was clearly a formal production, as the font of the text was smooth and sleek, nothing like a typical man’s handwriting.

  “What is this?” I demanded.

  “It is an invitation to his home,” the soldier told me curtly. “He requires your presence in his home for a dinner in celebration of our recent victory. I require your response right away, since the dinner is tomorrow night.”

  I looked up at him through narrowed eyes and handed back the invitation. “What if I would rather not go? What if I would rather stay and train?” I said the words, but my heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Rigby again. The journey back to Danis had taken days, and I had seen very little of him during it. I had actually felt physical pain in my heart at times, thinking that he may have returned to the arms of another woman who was doing a fine job keeping him company and rewarding him for his bravery and servitude to the Cyan army. The thought of him being with another made me ill, and I hated that he could control my thoughts and emotions so easily, not even being present to do so.

  The soldier smiled wryly at me. “I’m sorry. Your attendance is mandatory.”

  “Then why have I received an invitation?” I demanded. “If it is an invitation, I should be allowed to decline it if I wish.” I wasn’t sure why I was putting up such a resistance. I wasn’t one for playing silly games, and the truth of the matter was that I truly wanted to attend.

  “It’s with Commander Moss,” the soldier told me. “It would be wise not to deny an invitation to his home. After all, you are a soldier in his army, and you are under his command.”

  I swallowed back any further retort, not missing the fact that this time, he’d used Rigby’s formal title. “Fine. I will attend.”

  “Thank you for the good news,” he replied. “A servant from his house will be by to pick you up tomorrow afternoon.”

  Servant? It seemed odd that Rigby would have a servant. I had only known him as a commander of an army, who slept on cots and ate from tin bowls. The picture of him living as a man of wealth seemed foreign. And why would I need to be picked up so early? What would I do during all that time before the celebration?

  “I thought it was a dinner? Doesn’t that mean eating after the sun has gone down?” I asked, blinking in confusion.

  “Yes, but Rigby would rather you look more like a woman,” he replied flatly. “Upon your arrival, servants will take you to get cleaned and properly dressed for the dinner.” The soldier looked at me from head to toe. “A bath would do you good.”

  I let out a long sigh. “I will await the servant.” I did my best to smile.

  “Very well,” the soldier told me, taking a step back towards the door. “Remember that a servant will be around to your quarters later tomorrow afternoon. Be prepared.”

  “I am always prepared,” I told him smugly.

  All he did was nod, then he swiftly left my tent, jumping onto his snowmobile, spun it expertly in a tight circle,
and disappeared into the night.

  I took another deep breath and let myself relax on my mattress. Again, I stared up at the ceiling and listened to the sounds of the night, somewhat in disbelief of Rigby.

  Rigby was the commander of this army. During my stay, I had learned plenty. He was the cousin of General Dablin Becker. Rigby was in training to be the next general, as he was deemed the next to follow Becker. He had a hand in the training of the soldiers for the most recent battles, and his reputation as a fair, but tough, leader blanketed the camp. Word had spread swiftly about me being ‘claimed’ by him. No one spoke of it, but all kept their distance. Vulgar comments had completely ceased.

  I shut my eyes, feeling a bit of sleepy crust nestle in the corners. My thoughts drifted to his discipline and his talk about the need for submission. The stinging correction to my backside had been unlike any sensation I had experienced. Ever since the last spanking, I could only wonder if it would happen again. If I did indeed marry this man, would I find my buttocks constantly warmed? As appalled as I should have been by his display of overbearing masculinity, I couldn’t for the life of me forget the feeling. And if I truly were being honest, I craved it again.

  Since that moment, Rigby had been frequently on my mind. Even in the midst of battle, he had been on my mind. His skin was the smoothest I had seen, and it was a rich color, darker than the men of the Penna. Though he had scars, and though his appearance revealed an ice age worn warrior, he also had an allure.

  I shook my head and took another deep breath. But even as I nestled down and drifted off into sleep, I found myself thinking of Rigby in every way possible.

  Chapter Seven

  I hardly slept, which wasn’t something new for me. The idea of going to bed, closing your eyes, and waking up with the sun was a luxury not granted to a soldier. We were trained to always be ready, and that was a habit I couldn’t break even if we were supposed to be resting and recovering. I woke early, just as the sun was rising above the horizon, painting the sky with pinks and yellows and reds. I enjoyed being out in the early morning, before everyone woke and disrupted the tranquility of the day.

  I headed out of my hut early that morning with the intention to train. Even though we were ordered to rest and recover, I still felt the need to keep up my physical stamina. I trekked out to the short training area in the middle of the living quarters. The living quarters were a cluster of huts where all the soldiers slept, and the tents surrounded a communal training plain that held a variety of weapons which allowed soldiers to hone their skills. I was the only fighter who visited the training area every day and seemed to stay there for hours, even though my body begged me to stop.

  Just like every other day, I made it to the training center and dug my feet in the snow to ground myself. I had taken my personal sword with me and now pulled it from the sheath that was slung over my shoulders. With a calm breath, I watched the early morning sun glint off the blade. I launched into a rigorous training session, wielding my blade expertly. As the sun started to rise, more soldiers awoke to see me already at work.

  As soon as the sun stood overhead, I stopped and let my body rest for a moment. I sat down on the freezing snow, breathing heavily. My mouth was incredibly dry and sweat poured down my forehead, soaking my uniform. Hearing the crunch of snow, I turned to my right to see Oakes standing a few feet away.

  “What do you want?” I asked as I stood, ready to fight if that was his plan.

  “I’m simply watching the great Penna warrior in action,” he said with a smirk.

  I swiped at a long lock of hair that hung loose in my face. “Why do you hate me so much? Is it just because I’m a Penna? Or is it because I am a woman and a better soldier than you can be any day?”

  Oakes crossed his arms against his chest and laughed loudly. “That really is funny. I could squash you, little girl. I wouldn’t even break a sweat doing so.”

  “Then why don’t you try? What holds you back?” I taunted. It was true that Oakes could crush me in a hand-to-hand battle, but I would damn sure put up a fight.

  “Well, for one, Rigby has ordered all hands off you. And as much as I would love to teach you a lesson, I do follow my commander’s orders. Plus, Rigby happens to be a good friend of mine. So even though I think he’s lost his mind keeping you around, I respect his decision.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the next while he sized me up from head to toe. “And second, I like watching you. You fascinate me.”

  “What?” I snapped. “What the hell do you mean; I fascinate you?”

  “So tell me. How did you get those feathers?” he asked, glancing at my exposed wrist.

  I could have told him to go fuck himself and leave me alone, but why bother? He wouldn’t leave, and I had nothing to hide. Plus, knowing Oakes, he would probably like knowing he was upsetting me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I was injected with cDermo-1 as a child and they grew over time.”

  “Do they really keep you warm?” Oakes seemed genuine in his question, nor did I pick up on any hate or judgment.

  “They do. I think that the chemicals in my bloodstream keep me warmer than the actual feathers do. It’s not like feathers cover my entire body.”

  “Do they hurt? Or can you feel them in your skin?”

  “No. They feel the same as the hair on your head. It hurt when I tried to pluck one out to see if the feather would grow back.” The memory of how I’d hoped I could pluck them out of me and be free of the deformity forever filled me with a renewed shame of what I hated so very much.

  “And did it? Grow back?” Oakes actually seemed nice—even likeable.

  “It grew back,” I mumbled as I looked down at my feet.

  “You’re lucky to have them.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But you are. You have no idea the cold that we feel.” He kicked a pile of snow in front of him. “My toes ache from several cases of frostbite, my bones creak when I bend because surely I have frozen every part of my body at some point in my life. I am never truly warm. I live a life of constant cold, and my only hope is to make it tolerable with the layers of clothing I wear. I hate you fucking Penna for so many reasons, but I will give your kind one bit of credit. You were smart with the feathers. Other Cyans may not agree with me, but I would take an injection of that dermo crap you just described any day over the freezing cold I have to endure.”

  “I’ve never considered myself lucky,” I admitted.

  “Well, you are. You are alive, aren’t you?”

  “If you think the feathers are so great, then why do you call me a mutant?” I asked.

  “Because I can.” He gave a small smirk—or was it a smile? And with that last statement, Oakes turned on his heels and left me standing alone in the snow.

  Confused at first by Oakes’s visit, I eventually smiled when I realized that surprise exchange was his rough attempt at trying to make peace. It wasn’t exactly friendly, but it most certainly wasn’t hostile. I realized then, that that was the way Oakes was. Gruff. But regardless of how he said it, or how he acted, that was most definitely his awkward effort to connect with me.

  “Tudor?” a voice I did not recognize from behind questioned.

  Startled, I jumped to my feet, grabbing my sword. When I turned around with the blade, I saw what I assumed to be one of Rigby’s servants staring at me. The servant, a young girl, paled when she saw the sharp blade pointed directly at her throat.

  “I did not mean you any harm!” she claimed, taking a step back.

  I let out the breath I had been holding and tucked the blade back into the sheath on my back. “My apologies.”

  The girl looked surprised that I had softened so easily.

  “I-I am here to pick you up for the celebration dinner tonight,” the servant said quietly, still seeming a little frightened of my blade.

  I nodded and wiped a bead of sweat from my face. “Where are we going?”

  She calmed down a little and looked more a
t ease. “We are going to Rigby’s home, where I and a few other servants will help prepare you for the dinner.”

  I nodded again and left the training area with her. As I walked, I kept my distance from the servant who was so prim and proper in her female attire. While I wore blood-stained, loose fighting clothes, she was draped in thick layers of elegant cloth in vibrant colors.

  “What do you guys plan on doing to me once I reach Rigby’s home?” I questioned as we slowly left the training center.

  “You will have a team of his attendants who will tend to your needs,” the girl said. “We will help you bathe, dress, and paint yourself so you will look acceptable for the dinner.”

  I silently nodded in acceptance, though her words seemed totally foreign to me.

  After about twenty minutes of walking in a light snowstorm, the house appeared in my view and I almost stopped in my tracks. It had been a while since I had seen a house of such grandeur.

  “The house is made up of three main parts,” the girl explained. “There is the main building, which houses the large dining hall and several small meeting areas. There is the bedroom wing, which molds in a U-shape around the main building and contains several lavish bedrooms. The final area is the courtyard, which is sectioned off by stone walls and allows members of the household to enjoy themselves outside while never actually leaving the protection of the grounds.”

  Every building in the grounds appeared to be made with the purest stone, which was of a rich, snowy color. It was strong enough to keep out anything or anyone, and reflected the light of the sun, causing it to almost glimmer during the daytime. Intricate carvings were made into some of the stones, displaying detailed patterns and shapes.