Day 11

The Ravenswing Report

Photo by Marko Horvat on Unsplash

Return to Day 10

Thaddeus Diggory

After the unfortunate occurrence of the last two days, today was marked by relative calm and a sense of (genuine, not psychedelic-induced) camaraderie. I laugh, now, to think of my first impressions of these two young women, whom I am coming to consider close friends. Our continued eastward march led us to the rockier foothills of a mountain range that has loomed in the distance for some days now. I had hoped that a valley or natural pass would exist through which we could make our way, but no such “easy route” has appeared thus far.

In spite of the increasingly challenging terrain, however, we made good progress. I hardly felt the walk—after so many days, perhaps I’m acclimating to the exercise, but I suspect the lively conversation had more to do with it than anything else.

It also didn’t hurt that we were able to snare and roast several rabbits. I whispered a silent prayer of thanksgiving for dear Brother Albert, who insisted that we all learn how to catch wildlife. As we leave the greener region behind us, I find myself worrying about foodstuffs. We all ate our fill, but I’ve packed the rest of the meat to ensure that we won’t go without over the coming days. No way to know how long the crossing will take us if no other path presents itself. The summit looks impressively high from the foothills.

As we discuss the question of how best to tackle this mountain, I am wrestling with another, more private, challenge: the question of whether I ought to seek out you and the children when I get home. It’s been so very many years, and I can only assume you want nothing to do with me. That they want nothing to do with me, if they even remember me. And yet, I so deeply desire to see you all again, to study their little faces for any trace of the children they once were. It’s so easy to dismiss the idea as absurd, and yet… am I refusing to face the mountain merely for the lack of an easy pass?

Ariel Irene

That Lilo never ceases to surprise me. She pulled out a hip flask today and offered me a sip. I expected water, or perhaps a tea made with some herb she’d collected. Imagine my surprise when my throat burned with the sting of whiskey! She watched me gasp and cough and splutter before winking and stashing the flask back in her bag. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t told Thaddeus that she has alcohol on her; it’s silly how much a shared secret builds a sense of friendship.

She told me today that she wishes she’d had someone like Esther in her life, and I realized again how lucky I was to be her sister. I don’t know where I’d be right now if it weren’t for her, and that’s saying something considering I’m serving a quasi-life/quasi-death sentence for first-degree murder.

Wow. I guess I really am, aren’t I? I’ve avoided saying it for fear of somehow making it true, but… obviously that’s foolish. I don’t feel like the kind of person who could, let alone would, willfully take another person’s life, and yet…

There’s a freedom in admitting it, somehow.

I am a murderer. A recovering one, perhaps.

Lilo Talei

I think Ariel might have killed someone. I think that’s what she’s in for. I don’t know what makes me think it—she let something slip about the aftermath of her sister’s death that almost sounded like she tracked down the man who killed her and… But I don’t know, it might have been the whiskey. I’m not going to say anything. I just keep replaying the conversation over and over in my head, trying to remember what words exactly she used, and what was my overactive brain making connections or assumptions that may or may not be justifiable. I want to say that it’s hard to believe, but honestly…? I can kind of see it. I’ve said from day one that I wouldn’t want to be on her bad side.

The day was fine otherwise, and I got to have a long chat with Thad about art (a topic we both know quite well, although for very different reasons), which was nice because I never get to talk to people about art because I don’t want them knowing I deal it on the black market… anyway, where was I?

Oh, Ariel. That nagging doubt in the back of my mind that I just can’t shake. It really cast a pallor over the whole day, and I’m working hard not to let on that I’m kind of scared now. Stealing art from rich people like I did… Blackmailing or money laundering or whatever the heck Thaddeus did… it doesn’t feel like the same order of magnitude as murder. I don’t know why they’d put us in here with someone like her.

Proceed to Day 12

You’re reading The Ravenswing Report, a rapid-fire, limited-run serial from Sara Dietz at Blinking Blue Line. To learn more and access the Table of Contents, click here.