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Awake in her bedroll, long after everyone else had gone to sleep, long after when she usually did, Emma lay, staring at the ceiling. The room was filled with the sleepy noises of a dozen-odd children and the chirps and squeaks of the forest above. A bird called out, keening with an unmistakable sadness, as if its whole world had been torn apart.
Emma thought back to earlier in the day, when she’s gone out with Sonju. She couldn't stop thinking about that bird, and how she’d taken its life too soon. Sonju had told her the meat was “dedicated to the gods”, but what did that really mean? Were there really any gods that would approve of killing another living thing? It seemed too sad, squashing any potential for happiness that bird might have had. Perhaps its life was more important than anyone could know, but one arrow and it was all over.
Treating an animal like it was this insignificant didn’t sit right at all with her, especially after learning how demons viewed humans as nothing more than cattle. She’d learned all about the food chain from books at home, but then it had been a fun lesson about animals. Now it seemed like an evil light shining down, revealing the true nature of the world. Was she any better than a demon? What was the difference between the two? They both needed to eat, needed to kill. Hell, she’d even used the exact same type of flower that had gone through Connie’s heart.
Connie… It’d been a while since Emma had time to dwell on the cruel fate of her siblings. When she saw that evil red blossom, it had transported her back to that fateful night, seeing the graying corpse of her sister staring up at her with glassy eyes. Back then, she’d been in denial, thinking that this couldn’t possibly be Connie, there must be some mistake. However, as soon as she stabbed the bird, she knew instantly that it was gone forever. Its gray feathers reminded her of her sister’s unnaturally gray skin against the truck, and that had been enough to almost make her sick.
Even now, hours after eating the unfortunate avian in a stew, she still felt vaguely unwell. The meat sat heavily in her stomach, a constant reminder that it was alive only half a day earlier. It was a sickening connection to make. Most people don’t even consider what’s on their plate, and Emma used to have about as much regard for her food as demons did for her. However, being the prey had given her a new perspective. She now knew firsthand the fear of being caught, needing to keep an eye out at all times and be ready to run away.
That had practically been her motto the last few weeks. “Be ready to run away”. It was a pretty apt description of her life so far. Emma realized with a jolt that this wasn’t a new feeling to her. She remembered a time when she and Norman had found a frog in the woods around Grace Field House, years ago. They’d played with it for a while and didn’t let it escape, keeping it close to them like a mother hen.
The frog had eventually died for whatever reason, perhaps stress, but they were too young to know that. The pair dug a small hole and buried it with some flowers Norman had found left on top. Later that night, Emma had felt so bad for the poor frog that she told Ray about the little amphibian. Ray just looked at her with a blank expression and told her maybe it was old.
Thinking back on all these memories made Emma realize that this moral predicament of hers was nothing new. She’d been a murderer for years. Bugs, the frog, the bird… What right did she have to take these creature’s lives? All their small yet significant lives weighed on her so much that it made her want to cry. Emma had never been good at suppressing her emotions, so she began sniffling quietly as not to wake her siblings. She couldn’t believe it, that she used to think she was someone good for saving her sibling’s lives from a grisly end. There would be so much more hunting and killing ahead of them if they planned to keep on living on their own. How could anyone bear it, the weight of these souls, their thoughts, hopes, dreams, relationships? How was it possible to truly “respect” her prey?
The tears were really flowing now, although still silent. A small shuffling noise next to her momentarily distracted her. The distinctive outline of Ray slowly sat up in the faint lamplight.
“Hey, Emma,” he whispered so as not to wake the little ones.
Emma wasn’t surprised by this. Ray had always been a light sleeper. “Oh, uh, h-hi Ray. Were you asleep?” She whispered back
“Nah, not really. Are you crying? What’s wrong?” Ray almost sounded like a protective older brother, even though they were almost the same age.
“It’s that bird, Ray. I can’t stop thinking about how I… just killed it like that.” Her eyes still stung, but she was grateful to be able to talk to someone. “What right did I have? Its blood is still on my hands, Ray. Are we all just like the demons? A vicious cycle of kill and eat, kill and eat?”
Ray didn’t respond for a long time.
When he finally did, it was clear he’d thought out the words carefully.
“Emma, I don’t know what to say. You’re right that this is just like what the demons do. I don’t know what to think, but I do know that I don't want anyone to starve. The only thing we can do at this point is carry on. Even if that bird would have liked to live longer, it didn’t. That’s just fate, you know? Maybe we are murderers, but everyone needs to eat.”
That hadn’t been the response Emma was expecting at all, but it slapped her in the face with the cruel nature of reality. It was a steeling thought, that no matter what one was and wasn’t, life went on. “I hate this, Ray, I hate this.” she said, not wanting to accept the hard truth.
“I know, Emma, trust me. I’ve known for years that the world is a worse place than it looks. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? You look tired.”
“Uhm, yeah… That’d be good…” Emma lay back down, not having found any comfort in Ray’s words. However, it was almost funny to realize how naive she was. As she drifted to sleep, her mind went blank. She dreamed of birds, arrows, and blood, but most of all, the need for freedom.