The mother wakes next to the dead fire. Her son still asleep, tiny hands holding her arm in place. She checks the safety of the shotgun with her other hand. Birdsong from the top of trees, and unknown beasts moving behind the treeline a place untouched by a chainsaw's agenda. She stays there silent and surprised at the peace. Her son stirs waking in her arm. “Hayden” she whispers but he buries his face into her clothes. She waits until his face unfurls into open sleepy eyes.
“Oh sweetie, you still tired?”
He nods his head then hugs her arm a little tighter. His wide eyes stare out at the canopy of tumbled green and brown. They both want to stay a little longer but she grows restless.
“No sleeping. Come on now.”
They both rise at the same time, a clumsy pair tangled in each other. They both shamble to the truck.
“Mama”
“Yes Hayden”
“If we slept yesterday this means this is the second day.”
“Yes, this is the second day.”
“The thing in the car said we’d meet someone today.”
“Someone called Luna, Hayden”
“Will that someone look like the thing in the car?”
“It could Sweetie”
“It could be anything”
“Yeah, it could be anything. You’re to seat upfront with mama today okay?”
“Okay ma.”
She reaches into the back and fits his booster seat to the passenger seat. She lifts him up and his small fingers brush her face slightly. The seatbelt is strapped across the shy boy. She left the key in the ignition so she simply turns it. The engine coughs and stutters into life, gasoline flowing underneath in veins of metal. She retrieves the compass from her pocket and checks her position. The red arrow flickers inside scratched dented glass. It points to the north behind her. She releases the handbrake and heads south a straight line from where she left. The ground breaks underneath the tires like a stubborn surrender.
The mother is silent for the next hour, her hands fused into the steering wheel. Something approaching determination and worry heaved in her face. Her son would be trailing his fingers on the window, steam and fog colliding into obscured circles born from his breath. His fingers would touch the glass to make images and faces contorted and conjured from the world left behind. Intricate patterns painted by the tip of a finger and the never known thoughts of youth. She wants to see what he makes but the fogged images fade apart too soon.
“What did you draw on the window sweetie?”
“Nothing ma. Just a horse”
“Why a horse Hayden?”
“I dreamt of one last night. It looked lonely so I’m going to give it some friends”
“That’s nice sweetie.”
They stop in the late afternoon beside a struggle of hedges. The tangle of hedge chokes a small dent in the land, climbing from the bottom of a small pit. Berries and thorns poked out and wreathed in sunlight sieved through branches. The forest’s voice as wind would whisper through the hedge and shake ripe berries.
Hayden had drifted back to sleep and his left hand lies limp in her lap. A hand half clenched holding something that is dreamt. She’d stroke his hair in fingers that feather into a soft caress. My son she’d mutter behind her breath. My son.
She leaves him there then locks the truck.
The black berries flesh scented and sweet. The fruit’s blood rich and red clinging to finger, lip and tongue. She licks the juices off and fills two flasks with the berries. She hesitates then fills another flask with berries. The battered shiny flasks would be carried in an armful to the truck. When she opens the doors Hayden is already awake.
“Mama what are you doing?”
“I’m getting some berries for us.”
“Is the third flask for Luna?”
“Yes sweetie.”
Then she’d open a flask and Hayden would eat the berries. She would laugh when Hayden poked her nose with berry juice. She’d bite his fingers with her lips and he’d laugh. The truck would spill out with their laughter and it’s as if the trees lean in to listen. It’s the first time she saw him smile here. When Hayden stops laughing she kisses his fingers then starts the engine. It would stutter once to silence in a painful groaning. A ragged choking from gaps of the engine then that was that.
“Trucks broken isn’t it? Just like that thing in the truck said.”
“Yeah. Let’s make a fire.”
“Does this mean Luna’s coming soon mama?”
“Yeah.”
They dig a pit and take a scattering of dead plants. A single log and gasoline is poured onto the pit. The fire separates the family from the blackness outside. The shotgun is held in a white-knuckled grip. Two hours of this, the family silent.
The pony would slither out from the darkness, exhaustion deeper then bones settled inside of her. When it raises its head its stare is vacant and full of nameless apathy. With hooves slippery and steps shattered it draws itself closer to the pair.
The mother clicks the safety of the shotgun. The barrel is pointed the pony’s way. As the pony draws near its flesh and hair is a blackish blue without depth and two wings are dragged on either side of its body, feathers slicked and left in cascades of dust. With eyes unreadable she'd stare at the truck. Stare at the duo.
“Are you Luna? Tell me are you Luna? You tell me or I shoot. Christ I can kill you right here.”
But she would answer with silence. Her heart strikes out at the ribcage, afraid of this baleful creature. The pony’s eyes are too human and sullen. The pony moves closer. In the feeble fire made the light casts its red on her and she'd still shed her forlorn gaze. The light digs further into her and the pair can see scars and bruises revealed from darkness.
“Oh mama look its hurt. It’s hurt so bad ma. It looks really bad.”
“Hayden hush I know. I know.”
“It looks sad ma.”
“Hayden fetch me my jacket and get the box with the red cross on it.”
“Are we going to help the horse?”
“Yes sweetie. Go on. Be careful.”
She keeps the gun trained on the pony. The pony shows no inclination to move or acknowledge her. Hayden scampers around somewhere in the blackness of the truck far away. When he returns he’s bought all the things asked for as well as the third flask of berries. She takes the jacket and drapes it over the pony. She undoes the clasps on the first aid box and takes out bandages and alcohol.
“C’mon come here closer to the fire. Oh look at you. Look at you. Sit down you need to sit down.”
“I had a fight.”
“You can talk. My god you can talk. Who did you fight?”
“My sister”
“Alright. Okay. Do you want anything?”
The pony shakes her head. Everything that is wanted to be said is told and is enough. Even if the pony is closer she retreats into herself. The ponies voice feminine distinguished and empty. The pony drops her head and seems either tired or dead underneath a mane of shimmered black and starlight. The mother warns her that the alcohol will burn then cleans the long cuts and scars, all the while whispering.The pony neither flinches nor thanks her.
“You’re Luna aren't you?”
Luna nods her head as if in defeat. Hayden reaches over to her and strokes her hung down mane. Rather than sadness he’s in awe of her, wide eyes flowing into surprise. Luna peered out with her eyes soulless and weary. The mother frightened by Luna’s desolate mournfulness. But Hayden stays close to Luna trying to convince her to eat berries from a flask.