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Parton felt famished by the time it was dark enough for him to creep back into the village, staying by the deeper darkness around buildings or trees, avoiding the pools of light the windows let out onto the streets. He was glad to see his house still standing, bearing no signs of damage. He glanced around, making sure no one was in sight, before he hurried to the door and slipped inside.
Inside was even darker than the village street had been, but he was afraid to light a lamp or candle. Ivy had seen the light the night before, and someone else might notice it now. He felt his way through the familiar rooms, noting a few items dislodged, but it seemed the books had been the main target of destruction. His grandmother's herb collection was strewn about the kitchen floor, the drying bundles he'd hung from the beams himself now scattered and stomped to pieces, but it didn't appear anything had been stolen.
Parton went first to the kitchen cupboard and made himself a meal of the stale remnants of bread and a lump of ham, a few vegetables he could eat raw. Stomach satisfied, he set about cataloguing his belongings and determining what to take. He crammed all the clothes he owned into a bag and added the small pouch of coins from their hiding place beneath the floor board in his grandmother's old bedroom. He packed any food he thought would travel. Then he had to stop and consider carefully: His only valuable possessions had been the books. There was nothing he could sell to help start a new life. Thinking of that cabin, and of Cull sharing the single bowl and spoon, he gathered a few items, including a good knife and his best cooking pot. He bundled them together in a blanket, tying the top with twine like a sack. It wasn't the most robust way to transport things, but it should hold together long enough to get away from the village.
He hated leaving the furniture, but it wasn't like he could simply carry his bed out into the forest. He did take the pillow, which was light enough, though it would be cumbersome with its bulk. He looped a coil of rope around his waist and then grabbed a few small items that would prove useful, cramming them into the bag where he could, or tucking them inside the pillowcase when he couldn't. He tried to fit in anything that he might need to survive, because he didn't think he would ever be back here, or that there would be anything left even if he did return. It was a difficult task to accomplish without making his burden too much to be managed. And he was doing it all in darkness because he didn't want anyone to catch him here. At last, though, he was ready to go.
With all he could manage to carry shoved into a bag, a blanket sack, and a pillowcase, he set out into the night. He managed to get through the door without making enough of a racket to wake the whole village and hurried for the shelter of the trees.
Parton saw the eyes shining from beneath an old oak, then Cull emerged from the darkness, moving silently despite his huge bulk.
Parton hefted the blanket sack. "Do you mind carrying this?"
Cull didn't give any indication of an answer one way or the other, but he stood there and allowed Parton to set the sack onto his back. Parton would have to hold it in place because he wasn't about to suggest tying it to Cull's back, but at least he wouldn't have to bear the weight of it.
They walked slowly through the forest, winding their path through clearer areas so that Parton could remain beside Cull, a hand on the sack. The journey seemed far longer this time, now that he wasn't being carried, and he started to wonder if perhaps Cull wasn't taking him to the cabin at all. Perhaps Cull intended to take Parton through the wood to some road or another settlement and that was why the journey was longer.
But at last they emerged into the moonlit clearing, and Parton saw the rundown cabin with its boarded-up windows and the hole in the roof. It looked like it might blow down in a strong gust of wind, and from the outside it seemed even smaller than it had been from inside. It was a pitiful thing in comparison to his cosy house, but it was all he had now, at least for as long as Cull let him share it.
"Thank you," Parton said.
Cull jerked his head towards the cabin in an obvious gesture of invitation. Parton took the sack from Cull's back and headed inside while Cull slunk back into the forest.
Inside, Parton didn't really unpack, as there was nowhere to put his things, but he did undo his makeshift sack and dump the contents into an untidy pile so that he could lie down with his blanket and pillow on the hard floor and try to get some sleep. It didn't seem right to try and take the bed when he was already accepting so much from Cull, so he lay there on cold dirt, feeling the hardness and even unevenness in the surface pressing into him.
He was exhausted, but once he was still, the pain filling his body made itself known again. Parton had managed to ignore it for the most part while he had things to occupy himself with and tasks to accomplish, but now each twinge and ache seemed to magnify. Or perhaps the walk had aggravated the injuries so that they really did hurt more now. He hurt, inside and out, physically and emotionally.
He stared up at the dark ceiling of the cabin and tried not to think about his future, the hopelessness of it all. He didn't know where he was going next, what he was going to do. Even the next morning seemed an ominous uncertainty. When sleep finally came, it was tainted by anxious dreams that kept stirring him to wakefulness again, and all the worries that brought with it.
