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“I didn't mean to crawl,” I whispered to the person next to me. “But it was the only way to go without facing any conflict, without saying goodbye.”
“Why did you want to leave? They're your…family.”
“You don't choose your family, do you?” I replied in a dejected and regretful tone. “They're all hunters, the lot of them. Chaotic. Boisterous. Violent, even.”
They lowered their gaze. “No, you can't choose your blood relatives. That's true.”
Are they implying something about their own family?
After a pause, they continued. “Is your whole family like this? Dismissive of your values, I mean? Or is there at least someone you're thankful for? One you'd tell your… secrets to?”
I toyed with my hands, somehow uncertain how to respond to their question. I decided not to answer.
“I think I need to tell you what happened next,” I said, turning slightly away from them, eyes fixed on the fire in front of me. I closed my eyes, revisiting that painful moment. “The celebrations in the woods were in full swing, there was loud, raucous laughter and out-of-tune singing…both great offenses to my calm artistic nature. On top of that, they were celebrating a great kill that would keep them through the winter. Suffice it to say, my vegetarian, pacifist self did not enjoy that one bit. I barely had to wait before being sure no one was looking at me. No one ever was at these family reunions,” I added, shaking my head. I inhaled deeply, opened my eyes and declared “I made sure to take my naked violin with me and crawled away on the humid ground of the forest. I didn't turn back.”
Their voice was low, as if they had absorbed the sense of urgency and danger from my tale. They shifted slightly closer to me, reminding me I was in a safe space and that danger had passed. I was grateful for their presence, and continued my story.
“Crawling like that, so close to the ground, made me feel incredibly vulnerable and the background danger I had been feeling so far had taken over me completely - and grown much stronger, with the promise of a…more definite end should it catch up with me.”
I heard their sharp intake of breath as I said the danger had changed and grown tenfold.
“What do you mean…’more definite'?” they asked in a whisper, clearly afraid of the answer.
I turned away to look through my backpack, and faced them with an arrow held tightly in my hand.
“Definite as in lethal,” I replied grimly, a tinge of anger rising at the memory.
“Surely…surely they did not try to kill you,” they sounded aghast by the mere suggestion of it.
“I did not stop and ask, did I?” I retorted snarkily. “Maybe they saw movement in the bushes and their hunter's instincts kicked in, I don't know,” I shrugged. I knew that if I stopped my story there, I would not start again. I made myself carry on. “Even under the cover of the trees I felt more exposed than I ever did at these gatherings. There was a social danger there since I don't adhere to their barbaric principles - and they know I don't. There's strength in numbers, and I was on my own. Might be why I made sure to take my violin with me,” I reflected. “Didn't want to leave it and risk it suffering damage being destroyed or tainted by their opinions. It could have become corrupted, and I didn't want that: how am I to truly express myself without him?” I added with a smile.
At that, they raised an eyebrow but said nothing, silently encouraging me to continue.
“After a while crawling on the forest floor, the arrows had stopped falling, but I still laid low on the ground. The path was going uphill and there was only one possibility to continue on: crawl some more on an old tree trunk full of moss and God knows what else. I think it was serving as a bridge and, as with any bridge, there was a clear, wide pond beneath it. I must have been exceedingly tired because I think I saw Mother swimming in the water. Mother… who is terrified of swimming.”
“How long had you been fleeing for?” they interrupted. I shrugged.
“Long enough for this hallucination to occur. She was smiling and waving at me to join her. As I carried on my way, she followed me and, when I had finally crossed to the other side of the trunk, I saw an amazingly clear waterfall. Its beauty was overwhelming. The pond my mother was swimming in was connected to the waterfall, under which there was a strange man, clad only with a cloth around his waist. I noticed people coming to him with various ailments. He doused them with the cold water which apparently held healing powers: moments after, those who had been touched by it were miraculously healed.”
“Did you go in?”
Silence fell, stretched and settled. Like near that waterfall, I took out my violin, and played.