Find your Song

I smile as I watch my parents humming their soul song, embracing each other, and swaying around our tiny kitchen. Their love is inspiring. I can't wait to find my soulmate, so I can experience it too. The way my fathers' strong arms hold my mother's fragile body, their bodies pressing together. My mother's head rests on my father's chest, his rests on the top of her golden hair-laden head. Separate, they were very different people; my father was tall, over six feet, with very dark chestnut hair that was wavy and hung down to about the tops of his ears. He was muscular everywhere, but his arms were particularly strong because he was a miner. My father was always smiling and making jokes. My father was my hero; maybe it was because I was his doted on little girl, or perhaps it was because I was never on the receiving end of his rare tempter like my brother. I don't know, but my father was everything to me.

My mother was the opposite of my father; she was short, maybe five foot even, she had as bright as the sun blonde hair, almost looked like melted gold when she was outside under the sunlight. My mother never laughed and joked with us kids but always smiled with my father. Her smile was so big that honestly, I wished she would smile at me like that, just one time! She smiled at my brother once, on his wedding day. My brother and I always joked that when our father was born, he was so vibrant and happy that the gods decided it might be too much, so they made his soul mate someone who could counter my father’s joy. My mother.

“Sorscha.” My mother lifts her head off my father's chest, frowning at me. "Why are you just standing there? The goats haven't been fed yet today, the chickens need to be let out and their eggs collected. You waste time, girl, off in your dreamland.”

"Yes, mother." I sadly glance at my father, but he still hums their soul song, eyes closed. Then, before turning to leave, I send a glare at my mother. She smiles smugly and rests her head back on my father's chest, joining him in their song.

I slip my mud boots on and head out of our rickety shack; the sun starting to set behind the mountains in the distance. This is my favorite time of day; this is when my father lights a fire in our hearth, and he and I sit at our table to talk. My mother usually makes what she calls food in the kitchen, and my father gives me his undivided attention. When he was only twelve, my father built our home; his parents both died, so he was left to fend for himself. No one in the village was willing to lend a hand to the orphan boy, no one caring whether he starved or died. So with nothing in his belly, my father went to work, one log at a time; my father slowly built us a safe place to lay our heads. The hearth is his most outstanding achievement; large solid boulders mounted in a half-circle, layered with my father's makeshift mud to hold them together. The mud added such a fantastic contrast to the greys of the boulders I have often found myself lost in their design. This hearth warmed our home and was the place went to when I needed to escape my mother.

I get to the small barn that my father built shortly after marrying my mother; not as much love and care went into this building, as my mother says, “animals don’t need, nor deserve luxury.” I open the warped door with a hard tug, and immediately I’m greeted by three friendly faces.

"Hello, my babies. You hungry?" I reached my hand down and rustled the top of my favorite goat’s head, Jed. “Come one, let’s eat.” All three goats bounce around me as I make my way to their trough. Finally reaching it, I reached for the feed bag that is safely nestled on a shelf above. Pouring a good portion into the trough, I laughed at their excitement at their dinner.

“You wouldn’t be so excited if you were forced to eat mothers’ food.” I chuckled.

"Sister!" Startled, I turned to find my brother's frame filling the doorway.

“Duman! You nearly scared the life from me!” I exclaimed. I loved my brother, but he was always able to sneak up on me and literally take the breath out of me with his scares.

“Sorscha, you shouldn’t speak of mother that way.” He tisked.

"You are just saying that because you are no longer forced to eat meals and sit across the table from her. All while under her glare.

"That is correct" My brother's smile spread until it reached both ears, "Come here, sister, I have missed you greatly!" Then, taking the few steps to get to me, he wraps his large arms around my waist and lifts me into a bear hug.

"Okay, Okay, Duman. You big oaf. Let me down." He released me. Once my feet hit the ground, I had to straighten my dress back out. “Why are you here? Mother and father didn’t mention you would be coming over?”

"I have some big news. So, I figured I would come by and share while also seeing my favorite sister!" He smiled at me.

"I'm your only sister." I huff, knowing he wanted a brother but got stuck with me.

"Ah yes, well, favorite non the less. Come on, I want to tell Ma and Pa the news." He started out the door.

"I have to let the chickens out and collect the eggs; I'll be there in a bit” I yell after him.

Quickly letting the chickens out, now struggling around the goats that have finished their food and deciding they want attention. I begin looking for the eggs; these chickens lay wherever they want, and never in the egg boxes my father built. Finally satisfied I found them all, I started for the house. Upon entering, I see my father is beaming at my brother, and my mother is giving him a hug. Odd.

“Sorscha! Your brother's wife is pregnant; our name shall continue!" My father all but sings. I watch as my mother leads Duman over to our table. The fire already started in the hearth; she forces him to sit as she begins to cook. I grimace at the thought of the upcoming meal, I feel a little bit of a loss of my fathers and my table time, but I have joy for my brother as well.

“Congratulations Duman. You could have waited for me.” I throw a glare in his direction.

"Nonsense Sorcha. You are not important; there was no need for you to be here at the announcement." My mother's voice grumbled from the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, sister, I told you to come." My brother tried his hardest at an apology. How he ever found his soul song, I'll never know.

I sat next to my father; he looks at me with his pitting look. I hated that look.

"Don't look at me like that, Pa. It's fine. I understand he couldn’t hold it in for another five minutes." I sarcastically blew him off; I don't need his pity. My glance moves to the fire in the hearth; I drown out the conversation my father and brother are having. I begin to wonder what my soul song will be like, where he is now, what our children will look like.

“SORCHA!” My mother yells, 6 inches from my ear.

“What?!” I snap out of my thoughts, turn away from the safety of the fire, and glare at my mother.

"I was speaking to you, girl. I am your mother and will not be ignored." She slammed a plate of what I can only describe as mush in front of me. I worry about the construction of our table if she continues to mistreat it like this.

"She was just zoned out, love; she looks tired." My father, my hero.

"Don't make excuses for her. It is rude to ignore people and completely unacceptable to ignore your mother. She heard me; she just chose not to answer." Mother sat down at the head of the table, her seat of power. I snuck a glance at my brother, who had already started stuffing his face.

"It will not happen again, mother," I spoke softly and began to pick at the food on my plate.

"Fine. As I was saying, the butcher’s boy has come of age, and I think we have negotiated with his parents into a marriage with you.” Mother’s eyes stay on me as she speaks, watching my reaction.

"No, thank you."

"No, thank you?" Mother dropped her fork, placing her hands on either side of her plate. This is the stance she takes when’s she preparing for a battle, a battle we all know she will win. Unfortunately, this table has seen some battles!

"Mother." I also place my fork down, turning my attention entirely to her. “I will settle for nothing less than my soul song.”

"Nonsense. It's rare to find your song, this is a small village, and you've already searched all the boys here. We will no longer wait; you are a year past your coming of age. Wait any longer, and you will be an old maid, stuck living in my house forever. I will not stand for that!" At the last statement, she banged her hands down onto the table.

“Pa.” I turned to him, pleading. “I just want to be happy, like you and Ma. Please don’t let her sell me off to the first person who will take me.”

Father looked conflicted, he disagreed with mother, but he also didn't want to go against her.

“Well…” Duman started, opening his mouth to say more.

“Don’t!” Mother snapped at him, stopping any other words from coming out of my brother’s mouth.

"Mother, please." My gaze falls back to her, reluctantly.

“No, you will marry the butcher’s son if they will have you.” She picks up her fork and starts eating again, ending the conversation.

I watch her in shock. Next, my gaze goes to my father, who is looking down at his food, refusing to look at me. My brother is the only one brave enough of the two willing to make eye contact, mouthing, "I'm Sorry" his gaze drops to his plate as well.

"Just great." I slide my plate away, force my chair back, and stand. "You would force me to marry someone I do not share a song with? You are all but forcing me to live a miserable life." I storm out of the room, out of the house, and start walking.

I've walked a few miles, been gone an hour. The sun has completely set behind the mountains, only the lights from the village filling the skies. We live just outside the village, which has been so nice because I haven't seemed to be good at making friends other than goats. I sit on a large boulder, facing the village I start to drift off into my thoughts again. Marrying the butcher's son seems like a nightmare; I have only met him once, and he was not kind. Thoughts of despair fill my head, my heart and soul scream deep inside of me.

Screams. Are those screams in my dreams? No. The screams are coming from the village! I watch in horror as some of the homes furthest in the village glow red; the glow grows stronger and larger. Fire. The village is on fire. Screams fill the air; fire seems to jump from one home to the next. Then I see them; men, prominent men riding horses lighting houses on fire. Not only are they setting my village on fire, but even from this distance, it looks like they are killing people! I jump up from my boulder and run towards my home as fast as possible.

"PA!" I scream as I near the house, “Duman!" the fire glow from inside the house is strong, but no sign of a fire on the outside. The marauders haven't reached our home yet, I must warn them! Suddenly my mother’s scream comes from inside our house; without thought, I run straight for the door of our home.

"Mother!" I shriek as I get to the door and notice its ajar. Stopping immediately, I slowly stick my head in the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of my parents or brother. My gaze falls on the hearth, my place of peace, and I see my mother crying. My brother has his arms around my mother, holding her, glaring at something hidden behind the hallway wall. I creep in slowly, looking franticly for my father. As I creep in further, I glance towards our table, my father’s, and my table. I see my father, half his body under the table, he is face down, and not moving.

“PA!” I yelp and start to run towards my father’s body.

"Hmmm, hm, hmm, hmmm hm." Humming suddenly fills my ears. "Hmm, hmmm, hm hm.”

“Whose there?” I turn away from my father’s body, looking at my brother questioningly.

“Sorscha, hide. What are you doing?” Duman whispers, waving his hands at me. My mother sobbed in his arms, unaware or uncaring about my presence.

“Hmmm, hm hmm.” A man’s footsteps can be heard coming down the hallway; I know I have run out of time, but his song holds me in place.

“Hmmm, hm, hmm, hmmm, hm.” I hum softly, knowing the flow of this song just as surely as I know my own heartbeat. “Hmm, hmmm, hm hm.”

“Sorcha!” My brother gasps, his eyes widening in horror.

The man who steps out from the hallway may as well have stepped out of my wettest dreams. He is tall, having to bend slightly just to walk through our home. His hair is as red as blood, curly and unruly. As he begins to step towards me, I get a full view and understanding of him. His body is large like he has been lifting logs for fun his whole life; his one leg is as round as my two put together. He slowly, cautiously walks right up to me. An ax in one hand, the other raises to brush the hair off his sweaty forehead. I see blood on his hands; I internally hope it's not my father's.

“Hmm, hmm, hm.” He is now mere inches from me.

“Hmm, hm, hmmmm, hm.” I finish the song, the song that I have heard in my heart and soul since the day I was born.

"It's you." His gruff voice is barely a whisper. The hand not holding the ax reaches up and softly touches my cheek.

"It's me." I can't look away from this man, this man who may or may not have just killed my father. Being this close to me, I now see his eyes are a deep emerald green. I am lost to these eyes.

"I've looked everywhere for you," His hand drops to his side but never moves his gaze from me.

"I've been right here." I start to smile, but I notice my brother had begun to move out of the corner of my eye. I watch as he slowly starts to reach for the fire poker that sits next to the hearth, my soul screams to warn my soul song. The hearth that has held so many good memories is now something I wish I could look away from. I wish that I could whisk this man away from here and just start anew with all my heart.

“I can’t believe I’ve found you.” Unaware of the danger my brother possesses, unaware of anything but me.

“Duman.” I turn my head to my brother, who now stands with the poker over his head. “Don’t.”

“Sorscha!" My brother gasps, "This man killed Pa. His men have probably killed the entire village, maybe even my wife!”

“Duman, he sings my song," I mutter softly. I watch as horror fills my brothers’ eyes.

“No. You cannot think that! He is not even of our kind. Look at his hair. That alone screams evil."

"Evil?" I turn my attention back to the man in front of me; his eyes never leave my face. "Where do you come from? What is your name?”

“Aleksander. We come from the isle; we have only taken what has been stolen from us”.

“STOLEN?!” My brother screams, now his face a deep red. My mother has now crawled her way over to father, turned him over, and slowly strokes his face while humming their song.

“Your people came to the isle a few years back, killed, and pillaged my village. We have been left starving and without for many years. We have finally found people who gave us food, supplied our boats, and told us how to reach you to get what was stolen." Aleksander now turns calmly towards my brother; he is immensely larger and towers over him.

“Lies!” Duman spits on the ground at Aleksander’s feet but slowly drops the fire poker, knowing he doesn’t stand a chance against this giant of a man.

"Duman!" My mother's voice though a whisper, drifts over to us easily, "Your father is alive. Come help me lift him onto the table."

I watch as they struggle to get my father up onto the table. As they slide his upper body up, his head falls to the side, giving me a full view of my father’s face. Bruises mark around his eyes and a cut on his right cheek. My insides turn slightly to think that my soul song could have done this to someone I love.

“How could you hurt my PA?” I turn to Aleksander, anger rising inside me.

“I did not know this was the house of my mate.” He shrugs slightly. “I am not here to make friends; I have come to take what was once taken from us. Besides, I didn't kill him. I just needed him out of the way. Had he not resisted I would not have needed to harm him, I am not like my men. I do not need to kill to take what is mine."

"When my Pa was a child, his parents died; he was outcasted because he was an orphan. Everything in this house my father built and earned the hardworking way. You have no rights to anything in here." I stood my ground. No one, especially not my soul song, will steal from my family.

“You are wrong.” He stepped closer to me until the tips of our noses touched slightly, I could feel his breath on my lips, and his eyes pierced my own. “I am the only one who has every right…. To you.”

“Me?” I whisper, uncontrollably my eyes close. Just his closeness causes my body to tingle, his smell causing my nostrils to flare. I find myself wishing he never steps away, wishing I could close the mere inches between us until our lips touched.

“ALEK!” A man’s voice booms outside.

“Give me a minute.” Aleksander shouts back, “Come with me; you are meant to be with me. Leave this place, and I promise no one will enter. No one will harm your family." His eyes plead with me. Every part of me says yes. He takes a couple steps back and offers me his large hand.

“Father?” I look over into my father’s swollen eyes.

"He's your soul song, daughter; you must go." A small smile appears on my father’s swollen lips.

"I am sorry for the pain I have caused your family," Aleksander reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hand full of coins. "For your rebuilding and to help in the snow season."

“We don’t want your money, and you can’t have my sister!” Duman spits out.

"That is not your choice." Aleksander turns to me, hopeful. "What is your choice? My men wait outside for me. I must go, or they will come in.

“You are my soul song; my place is by your side.” I smile confidently, his face lights up. I raise my hand out, and he takes it without hesitation. I know without a doubt that wherever he is, is where I belong now.

“Let’s go home." He gives my hand a squeeze. As he leads me out, I turn and look at my family. My mother glares at me, good riddance woman. My father is smiling; I'll miss him the most. My brother is shaking in anger.

"I love you, Pa. I will be okay, Duman." I reassure them, then turn to face head-on what my fate has in store.