by Beth Reason
Chapter 12
Scarab was covered in blood. Her heavy breaths caused great poofs of white to billow in the icy morning air and her arms ached from the exertions in the cold. She needed a break. She stepped back from the hanging carcass and leaned against the pillar. The morning sun was about to clear the tops of the trees and shine into their little circle in the forest. While she wasn't as far along as she hoped, she figured she only had a couple more hours before the job was done. And then she got to do it all again. She gave herself a wry smile as she took a swig of water. Oh, yippee.
After a small break, she got back to it. Both cows had been killed and bled. While she knew she should have kept the blood, she also knew how squeamish Tenet was still about some things. It would be a whole lot to ask of him to eat an intestine filled with blood, no matter if she prettied it up first by calling it sausage. She drained the beasts into a bucket, then walked deep into the woods and released it into the forest floor. It would feed the ground, if nothing else.
Both cows had also been stripped of their hides and innards. As with the blood, she got rid of the bulk of the innards, keeping only the heart and liver. While they would not have a way to preserve those, she knew they would get a fair price in trade if they could get to Ogden's center that day or the next. The organs would still be fresh.
The easy part of the process finished, she was halfway through the butchery of the first cow. Using Tenet's saw and ax, she had cut and chopped it into smaller pieces of meat. Her arms were sore, and her hands were raw from the wet blood in the cold. She wished for the millionth time she had the time to get to her winter supplies from Southland. A brand new complete Winter suit sat there in on of her lockers, sparkling and unused and so very far from her. It was the top model, too. She'd spent a fortune on it. What she wouldn't give to be able to have that suit.
Scarab sighed and got back to work. Cutting through the thick bones of a full grown cow was a difficult job. It required strength, persistence, and a basic knowledge of butchery. She had mistakenly assumed it would be just like cutting up the deer, only on a larger scale. The small deer she got were easy in comparison. Their bones were lighter, their meat less dense. Cutting through the bones of the cows felt like trying to cut concrete itself.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
Scarab jumped and turned, the bloody ax missing Tenet by inches.
Tenet felt a wave of nausea at the macabre scene, and quickly swallowed it down. It was getting easier and easier to eat meat, but that didn't make it easy to see it before it landed on his plate. He had to, though. This was life. And the entire time Scarab was hunting, he waged an inner war with his old ways of thinking until he firmly resolved to help in all aspects of their lives. He knew she was butchering to spare him. It both warmed and irritated him at the same time.
"I'll handle this," she said, going back to her task.
Tenet stepped back and watched for a minute. The ax made a dull thunk and wet crack. He clenched his jaw and refused to look away. After several more hits, the whole leg fell off the half of the animal that was strung up before her. Scarab took a few deep breaths and dropped the ax. She picked up the saw and began to slice through the meat about halfway down. Tenet made himself swallow and keep his stomach in check when he heard the scraping of the saw blade on fresh bone. After quite some time, the two pieces of meat broke free of each other. Scarab put the saw down and stacked the meat with the rest of what she'd cut on a large piece of cloth.
Tenet nodded. He could do this. He watched her go to town on another leg. When that dropped, he picked up the saw and began cutting as she had. Scarab was stunned and just watched him. It was clearly more difficult for him than he thought, and he struggled, his face pale and his hands shaking. When she stepped in to take over, he gave her a glare that stopped her in her tracks. She picked up the ax and went to the carcass, cutting the spine. If he wanted to make himself sick, so be it. And yet, she couldn't deny the respect she felt for him.
They worked together through the morning. By the time they reached the last sections of the second cow, they had a smooth system working. She would chop, he would saw, and then they would both take a five minute break before tackling the next part. At first, Tenet wouldn't drink any water with her. Scarab knew it was because he was afraid of getting sick. However, it wasn't all that long before he needed water, and his stomach allowed him to keep it down. They only spoke when Scarab needed to explain a new cut. Tenet never asked any questions, just nodded and did as she said.
Once everything was cut, Scarab retrieved some of the waxed paper she had purchased for wrapping her kills on the hunt, and some twine. She showed him how to wrap the meat for temporary storage until they could get what they needed to smoke and preserve it all. She left out one large roast and told him it was for dinner. She studied his face carefully to see if he would rebel. It was asking a lot, and she knew it.
"Fine," was all he said before he took the ax and saw inside to wash them. When he came back out, he helped Scarab stack the wrapped packages under the eaves of their house.
"Won't wild cats come for it?"
She shook her head. "There won't be any around Ogden."
He took it for granted that she was right. "I'm going to wash up." When he came out of his quick, lukewarm bath, he felt a little better. He was no longer covered in blood, anyway. Scarab was leaning against the counter, the hunk of meat sitting behind her, unprepared and uncooked.
"Good. My turn. Make sure you build up the heat in the stove pretty well. I like a good char on the outside." She walked past a stunned Tenet and shut the bathroom door.
Tenet stared at the hunk of meat and felt the unspoken accusation from the cow it once was. He swallowed hard. He was being ridiculous and he knew it. He slaughtered it, he could cook it, and he would do everything in his power to eat it. He knew when he was being tested by now. He stoked the fire in the oven and took spices out of the cupboard. He rolled his sleeves up, took a deep breath, and got to work.
Scarab washed the grime of the day off her. She didn't like killing and butchery. It was messy, painful work. When she was in Southland and New Canada, not having to kill for a meal was one of the major perks. Even when out on a bounty call, she rarely had to resort to hunting game to stay alive. It was now her life again, and while she accepted that fact, it didn't make the unwanted memories go away. Memories of her childhood crept in during the day, thoughts of helping to scrape and tan while her father and the other warriors butchered and prepared the meats the women would then cook, salt, and smoke were impossible to ignore. It was a community event, one of the few her mother actually wanted to participate in. The first deer she took down outside Nortaberg had been very difficult to get through. She remembered her sister, too little to help with the scraping, hating the whole process, but having to be right by her side the whole time. Always the little angel was at her elbow.
Scarab ran a cup full of hot water over her head, trying to wash away the pain of the memories. Her sister couldn't stand the killing. She never could, even though they were both raised to know without a doubt that the meat was necessary for life. Their mother gave up on the girl right after she was born. She was little and weak and had the appearance of sickliness even though Scarab couldn't remember her ever actually being sick. But their father, he continued to push. "Make her see what I gotta do to feed her." The words were so real it felt as if they echoed around the small bathroom.
So she made her sister be there for the killing, watch the gory scraping, witness the death of something she felt was precious. Every year of her short life she was put through the hell. And Scarab went along with it, and Scarab dragged her there, and Scarab did it because on one level, she knew how right her father was. Not for the first time, she wondered if things had gone differently, if they weren't victims of parents who snapped, would her sister have lived to adulthood? Her gut clenched when the familiar answer settled deep inside her. No. She would not have. Not in that
life. Even if they had stayed, even if they had been allowed to grow and blossom as the other village children, the chasm between the life they lead and the gentle constitution of her sister would have grown until it swallowed the girl up in its bitter reality.
Scarab slipped under the water and squeezed her eyes tight. Tenet helped. He jumped in and did what he had to. But she knew the look on his face. It was heart-wrenchingly familiar. He hated himself more and more for his participation as the day went on and there was no way he could hide that. It made a flutter of panic course through her. He had changed so much in so many ways. And yet, there was still that side of him that was dangerously tied to his old way of thinking. She had to break it. He had to be able to kill for food if he needed to. She knew firsthand how quickly situations changed in this environment. She could be killed in a flash, and then where would he be? Berries and nuts and roots were fine, when you could find them. He would not be able to feed himself in the winter if he could not hunt, if he hated himself for butchering. He wouldn't last. And he had to. Tenet had to last.
When the water turned cold and was pink from the cow's blood she soaked off, she pumped the handle to draw some fresh, icy water to rinse quickly. She dried off and dressed, then went out to see if Tenet had gone through with the cooking. He had. The smell of roasting meat hit her as soon as she opened the bathroom door. She sat by the fire to let the warmth dry her hair.
Tenet watched her. After he got the roast in the oven, he sat and stared into the flames of the fire, feeling anger an annoyance bubble inside him. Testing. She was always testing him. And why? Hadn't he proven himself? Hadn't he done everything she asked with very little argument? He had. He had done so much more than even he thought possible of himself. And yet, it wasn't enough. It was never, ever enough. She didn't even thank him for his help with the butchering. Okay, perhaps she shouldn't thank him for that, he had to admit. It was for his benefit as well, even if he'd have preferred another way of finding nourishment through the winter. But she could have at least acknowledged it.
"You look sour tonight."
"I look sour?" He scoffed. "I don't believe this. I look sour, hm? Well maybe I wouldn't look so sour if I wasn't constantly being tested every single day."
Scarab sighed heavily. "Sorry, pal, but that's not going to happen. In case you didn't noticed, life up here is always a test."
Tenet pushed his chair back and stood, then stomped angrily to the oven. He pulled open the door and looked at the roast, his feelings of guilt mixing with his anger at Scarab and himself and life in general. He slammed the oven door shut and suddenly needed to get out of there. He grabbed his coat and ignored Scarab's questions as he all but ran outside into the cold night air.
The bitterness took both his breath and the edge off his anger. He put his coat on quickly and let the iciness burn its way into his lungs. It was amazing how quickly it cooled off without the sun these days. He knew there would be snow very soon, and for the first time, he was beginning to feel a sense of foreboding about the months ahead. He stomped his feet a few times, then decided to walk to the back of the house and check on Darla.
The horse was fine. She didn't seem to mind the cold with just a small blanket on her back. He felt pity for her anyway, and dragged over some more hay. She nosed him and he felt another wave of guilt at the day's butchering. He sat heavily on the hay bale and took a deep breath.
Scarab was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Life up here would be a daily test. Hadn't it already been? Things went from good to horrible in a snap, a blink of the eye. How many times on their journey had they been seconds from death? Far more than he realized at the time, he knew. He had to butcher the meat. He had to know that skill and every other one they'd need to keep alive. He had to be part of it all. And he wanted to. He wanted to be the one that could bring home some food for them. And it was that thought which weighed heavily on him.
Tenet wanted to go with her on the hunt next time. He wanted to. He wanted to be the one to raise the gun, sight an animal that had done nothing bad to him, and pull the trigger. He wanted to be the hero of the day. And he knew without a doubt that he would revel in the feeling. Part of him enjoyed the butchery. Part of him thought about the roasts and the jerky the entire time he was cutting. And part of him was looking forward to dinner. The guilt of that stark realization made him feel sick.
Tenet heard the door open. It echoed in the thin air of the crisp night and he knew Scarab was coming to look for him. He sat there petting Darla, not sure if he was happy that she came to find him or not. She found him easily and stood in the dark doorway of the small stall. He could feel her eyes on him and he knew he should apologize or at least explain. But he couldn't. For once, he really didn't know what to say.
"A long time ago, I was responsible for the life of my sister."
Tenet didn't know what he expected her to say, but it certainly wasn't that. His hand paused on Darla's muzzle and he held his breath to see if she'd continue. To his elation, she did.
"She was born small and weak. She wasn't wanted and it was the opinion of the elders in the village that it would be best not to get attached to her. My parents gave her the very basics of life, as was required, but nothing more. I...had a soft spot for her." Scarab swallowed hard. "I became her keeper. My mother told me over and over how foolish it was, but I..." She stopped speaking for so long Tenet wondered if she was done sharing.
"I didn't listen. And I took her with me everywhere because no one else would."
"Good," Tenet said firmly.
Scarab gave a small, bitter laugh. Good? Good for who? "She wasn't supposed to live here. She wasn't cut out for this kind of life. She was always small and innocent and soft." Her heart clenched at her own words but for once, she made herself keep talking. She needed Tenet to understand. "She hated hunting. She shied away from death. She was scared of everything that came near and I made it my mission to protect her. And in doing that..." The tears stung her eyes and she was grateful for the dark. "I failed her."
Compassion flooded through Tenet. "Scarab..."
"No." Her voice became firm. "Don't do that. Don't excuse it, don't wish it away. If I had forced her to be stronger, let her feel the fear, made her understand..." Then what? Even in her own mind she knew it would have done no good. Her sister was what she was. No amount of pushing or prodding or toughening up would have changed a damn thing. But she had to try. She would spend the rest of her life trying to prevent that from ever happening on her watch again. "I won't do that again," she said hoarsely. "When I have to push, I will push, even if you hate me for it because one day it will mean the difference between you living and dying."
Scarab suddenly made sense to Tenet. Everything about her fell into place; why she only took live bounties even when the payout was so much higher for the deaths; why she gave up her career to help him escape a callous, self-centered father; why it was hard for her to get close, to lower the walls. She made it her life's mission to atone for the death of her sister. Tenet was stunned and humbled and felt such a surge of protectiveness that he stood and crossed to her without thought. He had his arms around her before he even realized it.
Scarab lifted her hands to push him away. "Tenet..."
Tenet held her tighter. "I'm not your sister, Scarab," he said softly as he placed a kiss on her head. "I'm not your bounty." He kissed her forehead so gently she let out a little gasp. "We're not your parents or mine." He trailed feather light kisses down her cheek and Scarab's hands clenched around the flaps of his coat, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. Tenet drew his head back and looked at her. Her eyes were wide and shiny and she drew in shaky little breaths. "I love you," he whispered.
Scarab's eyes went wider and she shook her head. "No."
Tenet's chuckle rumbled through him. "No? Sorry, wife. There's nothing you can do about it."
Scarab stared up at him, the well of emotions she always kept carefully sealed threatening to burst
. Her hands clutched his jacket until her knuckles turned white, needing an anchor. Her head was swimming in confusion, her heart thumped painfully in her chest, and blood rushed in her ears. Panic ripped through her, the same terror she always felt when people got too close. He loved her? He couldn't. He shouldn't, anyway. She didn't deserve it. She needed to push him away and get some space. She needed to go away again. Go on another hunt. Spend some time alone and give the heat a chance to cool and then she could think. That's all she needed. She needed space to think.
Then why were her hands still gripping his jacket and holding him as if she was terrified he'd leave? Scarab was so confused. She hated feeling. Feelings were messy. Feelings were dangerous. Feelings got people in trouble and got them hurt.
Tenet watched the play of emotions of Scarab's face with a hopeful amusement. Though she was normally so good at schooling her features, her eyes betrayed every thought. He could see her desires, the desire for space, the desire for the ease of loneliness, but, most importantly, her deep desire for him. He felt the warmth inside spread and his arms tightened around his wife. "And you love me," he whispered, saying it for her because he knew she simply could not.
A little sob escaped and Scarab realized it came from her. A hot tear burned its way down her cold cheek and when Tenet reached up and brushed it away with more tenderness than she had ever known in her hard, cold life, Scarab didn't have it in her to fight any longer. She didn't want more distance. She didn't want the icy emptiness inside. She wanted the warm comfort of Tenet's arms. She wanted the heat she felt when he looked at her, and the overwhelming fullness being around him gave. Before Scarab lost her nerve, she threw her arms around Tenet's neck and jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing his lips to stop his sudden laughter.
When he stopped laughing and kissed her back, Scarab's mind went blank. When his hands slid down her back and cupped her to him, she didn't feel any of the old fear. And when he carried her into their bedroom and finally joined with her, she felt nothing but a soul deep satisfaction.
They ate burned roast for dinner that night, staring at each other over the plates they had brought into their bedroom. Tenet had a goofy grin on his face that Scarab tried very hard to find annoying.
"Stop looking at me like that," she said, blushing, confused by the unfamiliar feeling of femininity inside.
Tenet's grin broadened. "Never."
Scarab's heart fluttered and she bit back her own goofy grin. She picked up another bite of horribly charred beef, looking for anything to focus on other than the warm embarrassment she felt at his knowing gaze. She took another bite and didn't even care how terrible it tasted. It could be a bowl of ashes and she wouldn't care. She knew if she let them the feelings inside would take over. She didn't want to get soft and weak. She had no plans whatsoever of turning into one of those simpering housewives. And yet, a part of her that had always been aching had stopped hurting. Something inside felt healed.
"I'm still going to be hard," she said after long moments of silence.
Ah, Tenet thought to himself. That's what was going through her head while she sat there so quiet. "And I'm still going to work your last nerve," he promised.
"I mean it," she insisted, looking at him intently. "This...this didn't change anything." Her cheeks turned red again.
"Yes, wife, it did," Tenet said. He took their plates and put them on the table next to the bed, then pulled her hand until she sat in his lap. "We are now a real team. But we are still us. I am still a naive dumb bastard, and you are still a testy, calculating bitch." He broke out into a quick grin. "Feel better?"
For some reason, she did.
