Tread Lightly

I lightly step through the door into Ma's room with a plate of food for her, beans, biscuits, the last of our dried fruit, and some coffee. The first thing I notice when I gaze into the room is how small Ma looks in her bed. She's been sick so long that I'm unsure if she will make it. But she must, right? Then, before I can worry further, she calls out to me.

"Wy, how you doing?"

Ma rasps out, causing it to be hard to understand her.

"I'm doing good, Ma; how about you eat something? You ain't eaten since the last mornin'."

As I reply, I move closer and put the plate of food on the table I set up next to her bed when she started getting really bad. Took me over a week to make because I kept messing up the cuts out of anxiety for her. Ma wheezes out a short sentence at me while I maneuver.

"I'm fine, Wy. Come here and sit down."

I sit beside her in the worn bed while gripped with worry. She usually doesn't let me sit on the bed, which causes her discomfort. She's acting strangely today, almost as if-

"I'm going to die, Wy; I can feel it in my bones. Every day it gets harder and harder to stay. It may even be today."

Ma croaks out with grim acceptance. Her words sink my heart so much that I refuse to believe them. I start softly, but I'm close to yelling by the end.

"You can't die, Ma. You promised me you'd see me become a Hunter, right? And a Graves' never breaks a promise!"

She wheezes out another sentence, this time annoyed. Her face scrunched up with the wrinkles that have joined her sunken face since she got sick.

"I knew I told you too many stories of your father; no one can live forever, Wy, no matter how determined one is. That includes me and your father."

I take this in slowly, looking at our wooden floorboards and listening to her raspy breath. I don't know how long I sit like this; I don't even know what I'm feeling, shock? Denial? Early grief? But eventually, Ma breaks the silence, bringing out an ornate box from under the covers.

It is covered in red flowers that I didn't recognize at first. Still, after a few moments, I recall they look like the Red Spider Lilies Ma used to grow out in her little garden.

Ma speaks again, but this time, filled with an energy I had not seen in over two years as she sits up in bed for the first time in a long time.

"This is the only thing your father left for us, his Colt, the Blooming Spider Lily."

As Ma finishes speaking, she flips open the box, and what lies within is the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes upon.

Ma taught me about various guns as I grew up, mainly due to my insistence on hearing my father's stories as a kid. And because of that, I know what I am looking at, or at least, what it might have once been before it was altered, an entirely black Single Action Revolver.

Now, however, the weapon had obviously been remodeled and enlarged into a monster of a revolver. The gun looks as if it was increased by one full size compared to other weapons of a similar style, obviously to fire bigger and more powerful rounds. Still, besides that, it is covered in flowing Red Spider Lilies over its black coat that continue to move across the gun as I behold it as if the weapon itself is powered by some unknown force.

After I stared at it for at least a solid minute, I looked back up at Ma in confusion. And once she notices I am looking at her, she continues talking.

"His Colt is meant for you if you ever wanted to become a Hunter, or… even if you chose to be an Outlaw. We'd support you regardless."

I notice how she says the word Colt with reverence, and I ask a question with curiosity burning alongside this grief that's been knocking for far too long.

"What do you mean by Colt? Isn't it just a powerful fancy revolver Ma?"

"No, a Colt has a different meaning to it. When it comes to being a Hunter, you have a Colt, Claymore, or both. There are a few exceptions, but they are few and far between, as limited weapons are as useful for a Hunter as a Colt or a Claymore. However, they do come in different forms. So, if you truly wish for adventure and want to be a Hunter, take the Blooming Spider Lily for your journeys. It has many gifts that will aid you."

These words fill me with excitement. All my life, I've wanted to be a Hunter, to relish and live a life of adventure and adrenaline, just like my father from the stories Ma told. Now, I guess this is the first step, owning a weapon befitting a Hunter. My back sits straighter, and I can imagine how incredible my life will be soon. The adventure, the fun, just waiting to be had.

But Ma shuts me down quickly.

"Calm down, Wy, I ain't dead yet, and even if I was, you can't just go adventuring on your own just yet. You're too young, only sixteen. Even younger than the youngest recruit into the Hunters, most are in their twenties before they join an Order. Even your dad was eighteen before he joined the Sableyes."

"Ma! I can't wait that long, and neither can you."

I interject, emboldened by both worry and irritation.

"I know, son. I always knew you could never wait, so I contacted one of your father's old friends years ago and asked him to train you. Unfortunately, he should have a bunch of other recruits during this time of year, so you will have to stand out if you wish to be a Hunter. The invitation letter from him is down in the cellar within the lockbox. Go down and get it for me, would you?"

I stand up so fast that I accidentally make Ma groan in pain. I apologize with a grimace.

"Sorry, Ma. I'll be back real quick. Eat your breakfast while I'm gone."

I leave the room and head towards the front door, a pep in my step even with the sad news. As I do so, I look around the house. Ma and I live in a reasonably small place, only about five rooms in total. A bedroom for each of us near the back of the house, a dining room and kitchen right near the door, and a washroom in the middle on the right of the house.

As I walk out, I remember that I didn't put all of the dishes away. Ignoring my forgetfulness, I continue outside and around the house towards the cellar, planning to save the dishes for later.

The cellar is literally just a door placed horizontally on the ground, heading downwards on the side of the house. It's covered by weeds, dust, and dirt, so I must wipe it off before I can open the door. And after cleaning the surface of the door, I pull it open and head down inside. The inside of the cellar is the opposite of the house as it's almost all stone and brick as opposed to the whole wooden house. It's also very dark as the only light leaks through the open door and is further blocked by the cobwebs and storage racks within the cellar.

I head further inside and to the back, where the lockbox is. It's been years since I've been down here, let alone looking through the lockbox. As a kid, I used to hide down here while playing hide and seek with Ma, but she'd always find me.

I shake my head after that thought; we probably won't ever get to do anything together like that again, with how sick she is. By the time I've finished with the memory, I reach the lockbox. I open it excitedly, grab the letter from within and open it. Ma taught me to read when I was young, regardless of how much I hated it. But now I'm thankful as I soak up the words of the old dusty parchment with glee.

"Dear Mrs. Graves

I heard years ago that you and Killian had a son. Never thought that you'd come to me to teach him. I figured you'd instead Killian to do so. But anyway, I'd be glad to instruct young Wyatt. I owe his father too much, and if he's anything like Killian when I trained him, the Hunters could use him. I live outside of Elderfield by the woods. If you cannot find it, just ask around in Elderfield. I'm sure someone would be willing to show you the way. If you do wish for me to train him, please, I beg you, do not have him acquire any Sigils before his arrival, or it will make my job that much harder. See you whenever you feel like showing up, Mrs. Graves. And I'd love to catch up with Killian.

P.S. Tell Killian he should probably watch over Wyatt even on the way here. Things have been getting hectic lately, and I reckon it won't get better anytime soon. In fact, I wager it will only get worse. This old man is aging, after all.

Take Care

Edmund Dudley,

Winter 1678"

After I finish reading the letter, my mind bursts with questions.

What the hell are Sigils? Ma's never mentioned anything like that before. And why is the letter from almost 5 years ago? It's in the middle of the autumn of 1684, and if Edmund taught my dad how to be a Hunter, he'd have to be in his 50s or 60s. The man might even be dead by now, as most don't live past 40 in the frontier. Not just that, but what did he mean by asking Ma to tell my father something? I thought he had not been heard from since I was a baby?

With a mind whirling with questions, I focus on the fact that Elderfield is only about a day and a half away on horseback, so I can go and meet Edmund quickly after telling Ma. After that thought, I spend a few minutes reading the letter and searching through the rest of the lockbox for anything else, and I find a small hunting knife within a sheath.

I clutch the knife and unsheathe its spotless blade that reflects the little bit of light that's let in through the cellar door. I can see myself smiling from the blade's reflection before I resheathe it and hook it onto my belt. If I'm going to be a Hunter, I will need more than just a gun, no matter how powerful or beautiful it is.

With the new addition to my belt, I head back into the house and return to Ma's room, but the second I step through the front door, I hear a plate crash. Instantly I sprint into the room, worried for Ma, and as I rush in, I notice that her head is wilted over to the side like a dying flower. I ignore the broken plate and spilled food as I run and hold her.

No, no, no, no.

"Ma! Ma! Wake up, Ma! I just went and got the letter…."

My voice trails off as I don't hear her raspy breath or feel her reassuring heartbeat. In her hands is one of the biscuits I left for her to finish eating, and seeing it makes me realize that this is really happening.

My breathing picks up, and it rapidly becomes hard to breathe despite the speed of my inhaling. I can't focus on anything as I hold her head, and my vision blurs. Then, as I look at her, I notice her other hand has a crumpled napkin on it. The paper grounds me as I reach for it and unfurl it, trying to ignore Ma's cooling head. The writing is hard to read, like a dying person's last words, as if written with the last of someone's energy.

"I know I am dying, and you will take too long to return with excitement over the letter. Do not feel bad. The Pale Lady waits for none. Only your father has ever rejected her pull.

Take the Lily and ride Butter to go find Edmund in Elderfield. However, you must remember, Wyatt, this world is not all sunshine and rainbows. You've had a peaceful life due to your father's legend, but that will not always be the case. The world cowered for fear of your father's return, unwilling to strike at us, but my death proves he is gone. I love you, Wyatt Graves, and I pray against all Gods that you prevail in your dream of becoming a Hunter. Promise me I won't see you anytime soon."

It is a short note, not managing to relieve my sadness in any way, but it delivers me a goal to make Ma proud and become a great Hunter. I memorize the whole note and ensure I will never forget Ma's last words.

Afterward, I wearily stand up and speak to her body.

"I swear, Ma, I'll make you proud and become an amazing Hunter. And a Graves' never breaks a promise…"

At the end of my oath, my voice trails off as I remember that Ma will never see me accomplish my goal.

After I finish my promise, I pick up Ma and carry her outside, doing all I can not to break down crying. Once I set her down by the Spider Lilies she used to tend to, I get a shovel and bury her.

It takes me until sundown to entirely bury her and put a headstone for her. Then, I carve onto the headstone "Margaret Anne Graves, the most loving mother". As soon as I finish writing "mother," I finally break and cry. My tears continue for several minutes until I'm sobbing over her grave uncontrollably.

Eventually, I begin to calm down, and as I hear what sounds like footsteps behind me on the coarse dirt, I immediately sober up from my breakdown and turn to look over my shoulder, and what I see causes me to gasp in surprise.

Whatever, the "thing" in front of me looks like a cross between a rat, a man, and a bird. It is on all fours like a rat with the fur of one but the body structure of a man with a beak instead of a mouth. But the weirdest part is how its eyes are wholly human and stare at me. After seeing the monstrosity, I immediately grasp for the Blooming Spider Lily but quickly remember I left it in the box on the porch as I touch the air.

After seeing my movement as if reaching for a weapon, the monstrosity speaks and stands on its hind legs like a man.

"It appears that Killian is truly dead, or at least thoroughly unavailable. Tsk tsk. To not even show up as his wife dies, doing nothing to help despite how easy it'd be for him. He is truly terrible even for an Outlaw."

It speaks with a voice so deep and gravelly it's as if a knife is lodged in its throat behind its beak. I stand frozen in confusion, unable to process what is happening. I don't know what to do or say. So I just continue to look at the "thing".

The "thing" begins to walk towards me, its steps haughty and confident.

"Don't you know it's rude to stare, young one? Now that we have confirmed your father is gone, it appears as though your life has come to an end, just like your mother's. So just stand still, and we'll end it quickly."

The threat it sends toward me causes my mind to restart instantly, a fragment of some instinct deep down clawing its way up. And I notice it appears to speak in some weird third-person-esque way as if it's not really here in front of me. Without thought and only gut feeling, I reach for and unsheathe my knife as the monstrosity charges at me.

I bring a right-handed swing with my knife at it like an amateur and completely miss as it knocks me down and swipes at my chest with one claw and at my neck with the other. I block the one to my neck by just throwing my right arm into the way as they collide with a crack, and pain shoots up my arm, but I feel something akin to hot fluid run down my stomach as I realize I've been cut. Bad.

I try to scramble out from underneath it as my head slams into the wood behind me. Ma's cross over her grave. I thank my poor woodwork as the cross breaks at the bottom and falls forward onto the monstrosity, stunning it for a split second as I roll out to the right in a panic. I bear the split second to take in the situation, and weirdly, my panic fades to excitement while I take a deep breath.

The blood I lost covers the floor as I scan around me for anything that might help, and within my vision, but at least thirty feet away, is the Lily in its box on the porch. I disregard the monster beside me as it looks for its prey, and I dart for the parcel as fast as possible. Still, I only make it about halfway before I'm slammed onto my stomach, with my head making a thud on the ground as dirt flies everywhere. I can feel my head shake as my vision goes white, but I'm able to recover and spin before the monster tears me a new throat.

It is only further enraged by getting hit by the cross and is now doing all it can to kill me as all four limbs are now trying to rake my flesh with its beak, trying to peck out an eye. I let it rake my chest and legs as I dodge a peck and stab my knife into its side. After I pierce it, I twist both the blade and my body, scrambling out from under the monster and scampering my way to the Lily. I can feel within myself that it's the only thing that can save me.

This time I make it to the box and open it before I'm slammed onto the porch stairs along with the Lily and its bullets, and this time I lose feeling in my left leg. Still, I'm too focused on finding a fallen shot, and a cool sensation from the Lily helps keep this focus without being distracted. The coolness calms me even as I'm clawed and opened like prey. I try multiple times to grab a round, pushing the monster off me and scooting backward.

The monster grabs my neck just as I load the round and begins to crush my throat. It's too filled with bloodlust to notice that I have a Colt in my hand. As it takes a bite into my neck and my blood flows out like a geyser, I pull back the hammer of the Lily. I can feel my vision rapidly darkening and blurring right as I put the Lily's barrel against the monstrosity's coarse fur and pull the trigger.

Then everything quickly spirals to darkness, the rampant growls turning to stillness, and the last thing I hear before I enter the envelope of darkness is a petal hitting the ground softly.