Jack is remembering more and more of himself. His memories flash over me when he touches me. His appearance has shifted from the corpse-gray Blemmey, to the young blond boy of Sir Nathaniel’s desires, to the emaciated black youth that died in the doctor’s tent.
The hunger never changes though.
He is always hungry.
Last night, Jack dropped into the last living memory of his family. He had ran off to play and stayed out too late. When he came back, the slavers grabbed him. He saw some of his relatives, dead and dismembered on the ground when they threatened to kill him if he didn’t keep quiet. Most of his family was dead.
He thought it was all his fault because they kept the enclosure open for him. He didn’t know about the technological advantages of the raiders. He didn’t know these were people who did not war according to the rules agreed upon by the clans.
He only knows that he left and bad things happened to the people he cared about.
So if he doesn’t leave those he cares about now, nothing bad will happen again.
He cares for Sir Nathaniel.
He’s afraid to leave him.
Last night, I could smell the cooking fire. Smelled like someone was making bread. He said he only smelled the tart scent of the blankets. He said he smelled nothing of food. He clung to me and Sir Nathaniel even tighter and tried not to cry.
I don’t know what to do.
I can’t force him to go.
All I can do is hold him when he asks me to. (Which has been often.)
Sir Nathaniel made the observation that my maternal instincts haven’t fled as my daughter has grown. If I wanted, he said, I could have a son that never grew up. I could care for Jack forever and ever.
I did not answer verbally to the goading spirit. I can only make the observation that Sir Nathaniel did not remain in my room last night, while Jack, did.
I want Jack, and Sir Nathaniel, to have peace. At last. No more running. But I can’t force them even as the relationship is being revealed to be predator and prey in a terrible way.
We’ll see what comes.