Chapter Text
Only when sight fails, can you truly see the truth you've been running from.
Heavy footsteps mark the sand, leaving a trail on the grain. The desert air is nowhere to be felt yet her body continues to move as if being blown.
Heaving heavily on each breath, she could feel the vultures cast their eyes onto her figure. No matter, her legs refuse to stop, she can't.
It is as if she's running from something, someone yet it's only her presence in the desolate land. It's not, she's everywhere now, all her sight is hers- her steps quicken.
Bandages over her eyes hide the truth of what she’s seen. For her, she's been made to replay each memory- was this punishment or repentance, she questions above the Gods who'd hear her cries.
There was no predator chasing the rabbit, yet it fears the rushing air prickling its fur and coat.
She hears the slithers, the whispers, the fangs deep within her neck; I'll take care of this, please.
No one is truly alone, not even in isolation.
It doesn't take long before she stumbles into a small town, the sounds of merchants chiding and persuasion, the children rushing around the sandy terrain made her heart beat at a more comfortable pace.
She began to walk the pebbled path, a much more comfortable terrain than the shifting sands. She's not able to see the environment around her yet she knows that most buildings in this town are built with cement and long roads. Passing by each house, the alleyways never end for someone like her.
Feeling the heat subside in a certain area, she was sure she found shade. So there she sat on a big piece of rock underneath, taking a deep breath for the first time in a while; how long has it been since she felt relief.
Her trembling hands begin to stabilize, instinctively she reaches out to her side yet is reminded by a piece of chipped wood that her typewriter had been broken long ago since her journey began. She hasn't written anything for quite some time now, she wonders if her words left her once her mind was brought to darkness.
Before she could truly ponder, she hears footsteps approaching her. Urd immediately tensed, the paranoia on who walks forward became the main focus of her mind.
“Hello miss, I have not seen you before, are you a traveler?”
A man’s raspy voice greets her, he sounds somewhere around being middle aged. She subtly deflates when it was just some passerby.
“Yes, I'm only staying to rest for a bit. I'll be off soon”
She nearly stumbled on some of her words, her speech has gotten faster, as if she ran a marathon.
The man wished to say something yet he only handed her a bottle of water, conveying his worry.
She accepted the gesture and took a sip, the refreshing liquid running down her throat, almost overwhelming the pain within it.
“Thank you, kind sir”
“Please, there's no need, Miss. Where did you come from anyway?”
Urd hesitates for a bit, truthfully, she can't answer the question, all she knows is that she's been walking for days on end.
“The..desert”
The man looks at her confused, yet after looking at her more thoroughly, he finds the bandages wrapped around her eyes- dried blood is still evident. He feels a surge of sympathy and a tad bit of disappointment.
“I see…”
He hesitates his words, finding the appropriate sentence to say.
“Where are you heading? The city is miles and miles away madam, you're not planning on walking that far, are you?”
Her covered gaze didn't meet the man, pondering on the question, she replies.
“Somewhere”
A simple defiance, a simple answer. She doesn't know where she's going, she takes the direction laid out for her by fate and the phantom threads aligned.
It's still tugging at her, she swears it does.
This only left the man more puzzled yet he dared not to question it anymore, she seemed to be struggling. So, instead, he offers help once again.
“I can have someone drive you there with one of our jeeps”
She shakes her head with a smile
“That is kindly generous of you good sir, but, I'm afraid I must trek alone, this journey..is what fate led me to”
She answers, as much as she'd appreciate the help and comfort of wheels, she's meant to walk to reach her destination. She's meant to walk until her legs bruise and her lungs collapse, all until she feels that familiar tug at her finger again.
She gets up, signaling the conversation to a close and her taking her leave, but before she could, the man’s voice calls her, nervously.
“Before you leave, may I ask if you are a doctor of some kind?” He glances at the medkit attached to her side and to her bandaged eyes “We haven't been able to receive any medical supplies due to where our town is located”
He takes a breath and finally takes his chance to ask; the reason why he approached her.
“If not, may we have your medkit? Just to help some our I'll and injured residents”
He sounded desperate, yet the worry was genuine. Her fingers grazed the metal casing, she has rarely used it, only when her eyes sting and arms burn.
She wasn't supposed to have this, not when she's meant to struggle; these people do not.
Her head fixes to face the man, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“Of course” she nods in agreement
“Contrary to my vision, I am a doctor, and I'm willing to help in any way I can. Before I leave, that is.”
After the kindness she's been shown, she ought to reciprocate it. For her old duty sticks to her and that maybe, maybe she'll feel as though she's done something good again.
The man nearly cries of joy, taking her rough hands with his and his sobbing gratitude. Almost as if she was a messiah that he’s been waiting for- she wasn't.
Urd is led to a small building, the door creaks and she takes her first step inside and is greeted by groans and cries of women and men alike. The smell of bitter herbs and old blood consumes the place- for once, she's glad she's blind.
A woman rushes up to the two of them, pleading to help her son. As they rushed over, the boy was heaving heavily, the bed had the smell of vomit all around.
The old doctor could only give him medicine and advice of rest, the mother nearly tackled her off her feet as she thanked her dearly.
The more she helped, the more this became a pattern, everyone, even the other medical staff, stared at her as if she's a divine healing the sick. These people lived in a town where supplies were not plenty, but they worked with all they could.
Facing the hardship of life with the determination for survival and happy life, knowing their roles and proudly carrying them as if medals to be shown- she feels terrible for the small amount of envy she feels.
As the final patient finally fell into a comfortable slumber, the clinic has become much more peaceful. The air far less gloom, rather light-hearted hope is what lingers.
She heads out, walking to where a basin filled with water is. Scooping it with a container found inside, she begins to clean her hands. The water was washing off the grime and for a moment, it felt as if it's gotten heavier, thicker even. Black swirls overpowered the crimson, almost, they're the same.
Her hands were stained,
The soldiers' wounds were too severe to save.
a hospital bed, there she laid, hands left unwashed,
A baby is is running away,
Carried by doves, with a noble name.
A familiar call rings out to her ears, glancing at the sound, she hears it once more- a crow in the desert has found her here.
No, crows aren't meant to be here. The air had gone stiff, no longer can she breathe, a tick and two of time- she runs.
The man came to see her, yet he found no one, only a white feather on the ground.
Her heart beat at the same rhythm as her steps, her legs ached from the force yet she dares not to stop.
Urd knows it's not just the crow’s calls but the subtle tug on her wrist, by a thread that lingers around it- no, she wasn't going delirious, it's still there.
She ran and ran, yet she could never run far from the memories. Her eyes are I closed in darkness, where her mind is a projector that'll show her what she wants to see and the unwanted.
A bright glow of golden eyes stared back at her, piercing through her hollow gaze with a glint of amusement. Her throat felt dry, her legs immediately throwing her to the ground.
Her body trembles uncontrollably, the sand digging itself between her fingers, it felt as if snakes were starting to slither- she gets up quickly and bolts.
It's all over her body, the ink, the snakes. The serpents make their way into her neck, wrapping around her throat, grasping for air, sliding into her hollowed eyes as those are their new borrows.
She chokes out a cry as the memories replay, the life born out of the wheel and ink, woven together with the threads. The gunpowder against the air as bullets rain down from the sky. The child that was ripped away from her stomach and palms.
The rain is rising, her body is decomposing into itself- she can make this right, she'll make this right, please, give me the chance.
The thread snaps between her fingers, and she felt her life ended, once.
She stops abruptly, her breathing heavy and broken. She has to find the thread again, she has to play her role, whatever that may be.
Her body stands near where a cliff lies, her mind stuck in a trance. Urd refuses to accept that the thread has snapped, not when she still has to take responsibility for what she's done. Not for the mistakes she's made, not for the children she couldn't raise.
She takes a step forward, if this is where fate had led her, may she accept it.
Another inch closer, is this journey repentance or punishment; the rabbits are running under her feet, doves yelling her name and snakes burrowing into the pocket of her eyes.
One more, she's a coward, she was no mother, she was no doctor; she's not an apostle that stood next to Christ on that supper, she was Judas who dared betray the one he cares for.
She doesn't hear the yell of her name, her blindness wouldn't let her see her broken body, which is the final sign of mercy given to her.
All it took was one more step, to fly and repent on the ground- she was afraid of heaven, moreso of hell.
“Urd!”
A sudden force tackled her body to fall on its side, with the weight pinning her down as her head hit the hard ground below.
Her ears ring wildly as her consciousness waver, she didn't fall, she was pushed aside. Was this the thread’s plan, did fate change once more? So many questions rattled inside her head yet consciousness was beginning to drown her.
All she heard was a familiar voice of a certain dove she once knew and an unfamiliar voice of a K-9, all before she fell into the familiar darkness.
“Shit! I didn't mean to push her that hard” The lieutenant panicked, checking the woman's vitals and pulse- a little bit faint but still there. She took a breath of relief.
“Timekeeper, she's still alive, suffering from over exhaustion and minor injuries but she seems to be okay…”
She bites her tongue to a bit before adding
“Physically, at least”
Said Timekeeper stared at the familiar woman- her mother at the very least. They were tasked with finding her, it was said she suffers from paranoia and hysteria, causing her to wander aimlessly.
To see the person she once saw as an anchor that never faltered, that sang lullabies to her and her sister, nearly took her own life for a truth she refused to accept and fell from grace- it felt bitter, yet, it feels terrible to feel any form of resentment.
“We should make camp and wait for her to regain consciousness” she orders, looking at the sun beginning to set, this was their first course of action.
“We aren't going to bring her into the suitcase?” Moldir questions, she trusts her partner’s plan but letting her rest inside one of the suitcase's rooms would be a bit more sufficient.
“A certain moth would grow more unstable at the sight of her” Grace answers back, with Vertin in the suitcase, that plan is doomed to backfire- talk about a family reunion.
Moldir understands quickly and begins to move the body to a more optimal spot.
They make quick work of a camp and by nightfall, the hound and lamb sits in front of a crackling fire, with the unconscious blind rabbit sleeping peacefully.
Grace had been silent the entire time, only focusing on the unconscious body. She ponders on the questions she has, the feelings she holds and the thoughts of what her mother has become- truthfully, she'd rather have her than the other.
A nudge snaps her out of her rushing thoughts, a mug of hot chocolate greets her and a worried smile from her partner.
“Here, it'll help you warm up and maybe get you to not think too much”
She lets out an amused sigh before accepting the warm cup into her hands. Moving closer to the Lieutenant to rest her head on her shoulder. A coat is draped over the two of them, warmth engulfs them both.
“Is it terrible for a cuckoo chick to feel resentment for being hatched in a different nest, to only be raised by another mother and be painted as the villain when it kills the other birds on instinct”
Moldir glances at her before shifting her attention to where she stares
“Or should it feel grateful for it has been placed in a comfortable home”
The timekeeper's assistant ponders on an answer, as much as she struggles to wrap her head at times on concepts that the Timekeeper spews, she understands this one more definitely.
“I think it's okay to feel resentment. Parents aren't perfect, but some choices still affect that of a child.”
She speaks thoughtfully, yet her words aren't only meant for the girl in her arms but to herself as well; maybe, to even her sister, that she rarely sees anymore.
“Even if it's for better or for worse, a child needs their fathers and mothers.”
“Hm”
The lamb leans in closer, taking a sip out of her mug before placing it down on the grass patch below.
“I believe it's best to know her perspective too, let's leave that for tomorrow”
“Okay”
Grace mutters it out as a whisper, snuggling close to her source of warmth, sleep slowly consuming her.
Moldir lips rise into a soft smile, leaning in to kiss her forehead before holding her close.
The hound and the lamb sleeps soundly, as they savor the peace before the inevitable confrontation.