By Siren's Call [Contagion]

[Fletcher Fairleigh]

Fletcher’s loud belch ripped through the air. “Gross,” came the response from Casey, but Fletcher could see the amused twinkle in his eyes as he answered over the hunk of meat he was chewing. It was deer and wild greens for dinner, along with a handful of the wild blueberries that grew near the treehouse. Fletcher had finished off his meat and the berries, and tried to ignore the boiled plants that sat in front of him at their small cooking site by the river. “I’m full, can I go play now?” He asked Sascha, eager to get into the woods again. For days now, all he could think about was the little burrow of mice friends that he had found under a tree a few minutes walk from the treehouse. The momma mouse had been wary of him at first, but after bringing them some leftovers for a few days, she had warmed up to him, and Fletcher wanted to go see her again. “Ah-ah..” he was stopped by Casey’s voice just as he was about to spring up from his seat, hardly waiting for Sascha’s response. “At least try to eat those, huh?” Fletcher groaned, looking at the mushy leaves and stalks. “They’re nasty,” he complained. “They help you grow up big and strong,” Sascha chimed in; great, both his dads were united on the vegetable front it seemed. They never made Adi and Lina finish their vegetables when they all ate together! Fletcher quickly grabbed a handful and shoved the bitter greens into his mouth. He chewed as quickly as he could, grimacing against the mass of plant stuffed into his cheeks. After some struggling, he got the mushy glob down and showed his dads his empty mouth. “Bleeeh!” “Oh fine, go on then,” Casey said. “Stay close to the treehouse!” he heard Sascha call after him, as he was already sprinting off into the trees. The golden light of sunset was already filtering through the trees by the time he made it to Momma Mouse’s. He let out a little huff as he realized he’d have to go home soon before it was too dark. But for now, he could spend a few minutes with his friend. “Momma Mouse, are you home?” he called out, and waited for the familiar whiskers to appear at the burrow entrance. It took a moment, but then a small white head popped out from the hole in the tree roots. “It’s not much, but I brought some berries,” Fletcher said, taking a seat on a lifted root. He pulled a few bruised and leaking blueberries from his pocket and held them out for Momma. The chubby white mouse bounded forward onto his hand and began to nibble, and Fletcher watched contently. It was nice to have a friend.

[Sloane]

Watching, waiting, watching, learning, dodging, hiding from those prying eyes and noses that sought her out when she lingered too long. This was a dangerous place, full of eyes that watched not for her but for anything and everything. It was the world of wisest Prey; Prey that kept everything open but their trust. They kept a tight hold on their most precious Thing, keeping it close as if it would keep It safe. But she had evaded their keener senses, lurking in the periphery of their world when they weren't looking, until -- until they loosened that death grip on It ever, ever so slightly. She saw It move off from their camp by the river as they continued to stuff their disgusting, ever-screaming holes with cooked deer flesh and she was glad to be free of having to watch them any further. Her time had come, at long last, her time had come to be reunited. So long had she been separated from her Child, so very long, that she felt she could not wait a moment longer. But she kept silent, knowing that her Child would be afraid after so long apart. It would have forgotten, forgotten their moments of peace and sanctity from Its time behind these dirty, forsaken Walls. Sloane watched as her Child talked the sweet babble of Children to the smallest of things, a creature she did not quite recognize,  a creature which she would never haven taken notice. A creature that had Children, she could see, like her, and knew what it was to be. The bright light was fading soon to the dark, a time she much abhorred. It was often so very cold, so very, very lonely. But soon she would have company to keep in the night, and the moon would not be so very horrid with its pale, chilled rays. She retreated deeper into the woods to a dead tree that had toppled over long ago, large and covered with moss, so thick around she had to sink her claws into the bark to climb up to the top. There she sat, not within eyesight but within earshot of her Child. It would come to her, she did not doubt it. She arranged her gauzy skirt around her folded knees and stared with her slick black eyes to where her Child awaited. A soft hum rumbled in her, rising from the depths of her stomach, through her chest and vibrated in the strange resonating chamber the Creators had given her to make her so very, very perfect. The hum continued as she found her song, found the soft, delicate words that started low and rose until her voice lilted through the forest, seeming to bring a stillness to the very air it touched.

[Fletcher Fairleigh]

Fletcher was watching Momma mouse finish off the berries, when the wind carried to him the most beautiful song he’d ever heard. It reminded him briefly of his mother for a moment, and how she used to sing him songs while tucking him in at night; at the same time however, it sent an inexplicable chill down his spine. Momma Mouse perked up, seemingly hearing the song too, and quickly darted away back into her burrow. “Wait!” Fletcher called after her, but she was gone. He got up and dusted his hands off, wiping the blueberry mess onto his jeans. Curiosity tempted him for a moment, and he began walking toward the sound of the voice. Who could be singing all the way out here, he wondered? They had hardly seen other people since their move to the forest. Something stopped him after he’d walked for about a hundred yards, however. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. His dads always told him to be wary of strangers, especially out here. It was getting dark, and there were dangerous places in the forest where he wasn’t supposed to go. What if the voice led him to the Path, or worse? Fletcher looked up at the sky to see the light fading quickly now. Maybe it was best if he got home before dark, he thought, struggling to smother the nagging curiosity. He stood still for a moment, listening the lilting notes still dancing on the breeze. With one last glance in the direction of the singer, he quickly turned on his heel and headed back from where he came. If he hurried he’d get home before night set in.

[Sloane]

Something was amiss, afoot, her black eyes widening, darkening as she watched as her child wandered astray. She saw him listen, saw him hear and feel her song; she could see through the trees with her eyes, sharp like a hawk, see that he wanted to walk to her side and come away with her, home, where he belonged. She could see him trying to remember what those two in the treehouse had made him forget. They had tricked him, her child, stolen him away from her arms and her heart. And now he was walking away like they had taught him, no, tricked him into believing that she was a bad creature. They were liars, the lot of them, the vilest of Prey Things, turning her children against her, stealing them away like common thieves. She did not approve of thieves, her Creators had told her the crumbling world within the walls was rife with them. Her song faded from her lips as she watched Fletcher turn and head back to the river, to the house in which they had hidden him away for so long. “Fletcher,” she called, though it was not her voice that floated through the air. It was a voice she had listened to, repeated in soft whispers to the trees and the leaves, until she had perfected the words. “Fletcher, come here!” She called in his voice, the red-haired one, the one with holes on his pale cheeks. The sound was distasteful as it left her lips, and she felt the urge to rip out her own tongue to feel that liar's words on it. But again she called, "Fletcher!" And waited, perched on the decaying log, watching.

[Fletcher Fairleigh]

Fletcher was halfway back down the path when suddenly he heard Casey’s voice from behind him. His voice called him again and Fletcher turned around to rush to it. He must have come looking for him since it was nearly dark, Fletcher figured, and felt a little bad for being out so long. “I’m coming!” He called back to Casey. He reached the end of the path where it opened up into a clearing. “Dad?” He called, looking around. In the center of the clearing, he spotted a lady watching him. She was pretty and wore colorful clothing, and smiled at him. Fletcher smiled back and took a few steps into the clearing, so he was only a couple yards away from her. “Um, hello,” he said sheepishly, giving the lady a little wave. “I’m Fletcher. Have you seen my dad?” Fletcher asked, before realizing she wouldn’t know who his dad was anyhow. “He’s got dark hair, kinda reddish. He was just calling for me somewhere around here,” he added so that the lady might better help him find Casey, and so his way back home.

[Sloane]

She saw Fletcher come through the trees and into the dappled light, easing her posture so she sat as pretty as could be, calm and kind and akin to a fairy creature that One would know, no, to think, would be kind. But I am kind, she thought, bothered that it was possible she could not be kind to her children. It was cruel to think such a thing. But then Fletcher spoke, and she smiled, her dark eyes shining in the dappled grove. “Yes,” she said, a voice soft and light as the breeze. “I saw him only a very short moment ago.” She patted a small satchel that had been hidden in the gauzy fabric of her skirt, returning her child’s wave. “Casey is very much a kind man,” the sound was bitter in her mouth. “He left with me this bag filled with delicious berries to calm my nerves.” She opened the bag and beckoned him closer. She popped a few in her mouth, careful to keep her claws from unsheathing in her anticipation. “I was scared by something, you see. He went to get rid of it. Yes. He told me to look out for you.” She asked, holding out a handkerchief stuffed with berries. “Do you want to share?”