literature

Fury

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  Four shadows whisked through the trees, breaking twigs and causing rabbits to stir in their dreams. The smallest of them was lagging behind, and whined occasionally only to be hushed with a deadly glare from the others. She was naked and beaten; her mother who led them through the dark woods was weighed down by long skirts that caught on the brambles, but pushed forward ruthlessly, tearing at her garments and legs alike without slowing down. The two men sported crude loincloths and a crisscrossing of stripes on their backs and legs, some of them still bleeding. All bore the brand of a bull's head on their left shoulder: the mark of Skalzan slaves.
  Dogs howled where they had been, and they all shivered and moved faster. These dogs were not smart, but they were starved--the punishment for running away was death. If the runaway was caught before the real hunt was started, the other slaves would be lined up to watch as that unfortunate was thrown into the dogpen.
  The woman took the child with her while the two men split off to confuse the trail. The child saw her eyes shining in the dark, and was amazed--she had never seen her mother cry. They ran now towards the big river, as the baying of dogs now mingled with horses hooves, and it was getting louder--she heard a man screaming not far away, but this soon quieted.
  At the river's edge the mother stopped, and lowered the child into the water near a weedy overhang. She ordered the child fiercely to stay under the water as much as she could, and hide beneath the overhang until the sounds of men and dogs were completely gone--then to cross the river and never look back. The child took in a gulp of air and dissapeared, clinging to a root so she would not be swept away.
  The mother turned and ran back the way she had come, as far away from her child as she could. The light in her eyes had turned to fire, and flames were beginning to flicker over her skin. She heard a yell--the men and dogs had sighted her. She came to a halt and faced them, though her eyes already were sightless burning coals, and a red glow pulsed beneath her skin. The horses smelled smoke and bolted, throwning their riders down amidst the dogs. But the dogs, too, were maddened by fear, and soon they also fled into the woods. A spiral of smoke and flame whirled around the mother as she surrendered at last to the fury she had fought for so long, the flames flung out in an explosion of hate and love, and for the latter with her last sane thought she protected her child, although her spirit was weak now compared to the fire and it burned away her strength. She screamed, but her lungs had been turned to ash...
  Dawn brought the child out of her hiding place. Though the river ran cold, it had soon become unbearably hot, and only her mother's warning had kept her in the water. Now the child swam across to the oppisite bank and pulled herself out of the still-warm water onto the muddy bank. The air was thick with smoke and sickening fumes that stung her throat and made tears stream from her eyes--though she was crying anyway. She dared to look back across the river.
  The forest was gone, and the ground was black and glassy where it was not still burning. The crater stretched out and was obscured by the smoke, and it ended at the river. A little round patch of brown like a bite out a cookie marked the overhang and the now-dead weeds that covered it.
  The child stared numbly for a moment, then was racked by coughing as the poisonous air burned in her lungs. She turned and ran, and she never looked back again.
A scene from the early life of Mali the Blind, which I only wrote down because one of my Chinese teachers wouldn't believe that I made up stories unless I showed her one in writing. I guess now I'd better keep going with it, this is one for which I know all the details clearly anyway.

Oh, to clarify (for those who care): "Skalzan slaves" refers to the nationality of the owners, not the slaves themselves. These particular slaves happen to be Shashoan.
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