Mother of Midnight

Chapter 161 – Refuge

When Rava turned to face the refugees, the stark contrast between her composed demeanor and the blood-soaked landscape made the moment even more unsettling. The refugees stood frozen, their expressions a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief. Eyes wide and unblinking, they stared at the carnage spread out before them: the mangled bodies, the crimson-streaked snow, and the faint steam still rising from where Vivienne’s rampage had left its mark.

A small child clung to a woman’s leg, hiding their face in her tattered cloak. The woman herself was pale, her knuckles white as she gripped the child protectively, her gaze darting between Vivienne and the battlefield. An older man, leaning on a crude walking stick, muttered something under his breath, his voice trembling too much for the words to form.

“They’re… all gone,” one of the younger men murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands shook as he stared at the remnants of the attackers. “She… she killed them all.”

Rava stepped closer, her heavy boots crunching through the snow, drawing their attention. The refugees flinched, shrinking away as though they expected her to strike them down as well. She raised her hands slowly, palms out in a gesture of peace, her eyes steady as she met their frightened gazes.

“You’re safe now,” Rava said firmly, her voice calm but carrying an edge of authority. “They won’t hurt you anymore.”

A woman in the group, her face weathered and lined with hardship, stepped forward hesitantly. Her eyes flickered to Vivienne, who stood a short distance away, her expression unreadable. “What… what is she?” the woman asked, her voice trembling but laced with curiosity and fear. “Is she even human?”

Rava didn’t answer immediately. She glanced over her shoulder at Vivienne, who was busy brushing snow off her bare arms as if she hadn’t just torn through six armed combatants moments before. Her long tail swayed lazily behind her, and her black eyes gleamed with a predatory sheen, though her demeanor was as casual as ever.

“She’s on your side,” Rava finally said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “That’s all you need to know.”

Vivienne’s lips curled into a slight smirk at Rava’s response, but she said nothing, her gaze lingering on the refugees. They avoided her eyes, some clutching each other more tightly as if her mere presence was a threat. The taste of their fear still hung in the air, a subtle sweetness Vivienne found difficult to ignore.

One of the older men cleared his throat, his voice hoarse as he addressed Rava. “We… we’re grateful for what you’ve done. But—” His gaze shifted nervously to Vivienne again. “Will she…?”

“She won’t hurt you,” Rava cut in, her tone sharp enough to silence him. “You have nothing to fear unless you give her a reason to.”

Vivienne tilted her head, amused by Rava’s attempt to reassure them. She could feel the tension radiating from the group, their unease wrapping around them like a second layer of clothing. “I don’t bite,” she said lightly, her voice almost teasing. “Not unless you ask.”

The joke didn’t land. If anything, it only made the refugees more uneasy. A few took involuntary steps back, and one of the children let out a soft whimper.

Rava sighed, shooting Vivienne a look that said, Really?

before turning back to the group. “We’re moving on,” she said. “You aren’t being corralled any more. Head southeast until you get to Thalrynn. It is far from the war.”One of the older men cleared his throat, his voice hoarse as he addressed Rava. “We… we’re grateful for what you’ve done. But—” His gaze flicked to Vivienne, then away just as quickly. “We have nothing. We’ve lost so much already. Is there any chance you could… spare supplies? Just enough to get us to Thalrynn?”

Rava’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms, irritation flickering across her face. “We just saved you, and now you want to raid our supplies?”

The group collectively flinched at her tone, and the woman holding the child spoke up hastily. “Please, we wouldn’t ask if we didn’t need it. We’ve been running for days. We don’t have food. Or medicine. Please.”

Rava opened her mouth, undoubtedly to refuse, but Vivienne stepped forward, her tall form radiating calm amusement. “Sweetheart, let’s not be so hasty.”

Rava frowned, glancing at her. “They’ll eat through our stores before they even make it halfway to Thalrynn.”

Vivienne shrugged, her gaze drifting over the refugees. Her smile widened, sharp teeth glinting. “I think we can come to an arrangement. A little… trade.”

The older man tensed, his unease palpable. “Trade?”

“Yes,” Vivienne said, her voice syrupy and sweet, oozing an unsettling charm. She waved a clawed hand lazily toward the group of huddled refugees. “We’ll share some of our spare supplies, maybe even give them the rest of the thornback meat. In return, some volunteers will feed Liora tonight.”

The casual nature of her suggestion sent a visible ripple of unease through the refugees. Several stiffened, their faces pale as they exchanged nervous glances.

An older woman, wrapped tightly in a tattered shawl, stepped forward hesitantly. “Feed… her?” she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Vivienne’s black lips curled into a smile, her sharp teeth glinting faintly in the dim light. She raised her claws, palms up, in a placating gesture. “Nothing permanent,” she said, her tone smooth and reassuring. “Volunteers will be very tired tomorrow, that’s all. Think of it as a small price for food and warmth.”

The woman shrank back slightly, clearly unsure, but Vivienne didn’t press her further. She let the group stew in their unease for a moment before Rava spoke, her voice firm and cutting through the growing murmurs.

“Yes,” Rava said, her arms crossed, tail flicking once behind her. “I think that would work.”

Vivienne glanced up at her companion and stepped closer, placing a clawed hand lightly on Rava’s forearm. The difference in their sizes was stark—Rava towered over her, broad and imposing, while Vivienne’s smaller frame seemed almost delicate in comparison, though no one could mistake her for fragile.

“Plus,” Vivienne murmured, her voice softening, “I don’t want to see children cold and starving. If I were able, I’d escort them myself to somewhere safe.” Her dark eyes gleamed with a sincerity that belied the sharp edges of her smile.

Rava studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod, her tail swaying thoughtfully. “Fair enough.”

Turning back to the refugees, Vivienne’s tone shifted, becoming brisk but not unkind. “You don’t have to decide this moment. Discuss it among yourselves. But our supplies aren’t endless, and we’re offering you a fair trade. It’s up to you.”

The refugees whispered among themselves, their fear and uncertainty almost tangible. Finally, the older man who had spoken earlier stepped forward again, his posture stiff with nerves.

“If we agree…” His gaze flicked to Vivienne and then to Rava, as though seeking reassurance. “She won’t hurt anyone? And… what is Liora?”

Vivienne hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer. She soon then smiled, this time more gently. “She’s my daughter,” she said simply, her tone making it clear there would be no further explanation. “She’s been resting in the wagon. She’s harmless unless you give her a reason not to be.”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. A younger man, his face pale but determined, finally stepped forward. “If it means keeping the children fed and warm…” He swallowed hard, his voice wavering but resolute. “I’ll volunteer.”

Vivienne’s grin widened, her amusement barely hidden. “A noble soul,” she said, her voice purring with approval. “You’ll wake up tomorrow safe and sound. Just… very, very tired.”

Her words seemed to steel the nerves of a few others in the group, who reluctantly nodded their agreement.

Rava’s gaze swept over the volunteers, her expression unreadable. “Fine. Let’s set up camp for now then.”

The snow had begun to fall heavier as the refugees settled in, and the fire was kindled at the center of their small encampment, casting flickering shadows on the snow. Rava had set up a perimeter, ensuring no one wandered too far into the cold, while Vivienne busied herself with the stew, her claws stirring the pot in slow, deliberate motions. The scent of simmering meat and herbs carried through the air, blending with the sharp bite of winter. The warmth from the fire slowly spread out, offering relief to the refugees who stood shivering in the snow.

Vivienne’s movements were methodical as she tended to the food, each motion almost hypnotic, her large, obsidian claws graceful despite their size. She added more water to the cauldron, her eyes flicking over the group as she did. Gradually, a few of the refugees, clearly reluctant but driven by the biting cold, began to inch toward the fire. Their eyes darted toward Vivienne, trying to gauge her mood. They seemed to recognize her as the source of their survival in this moment, but there was still a palpable wariness in the way they moved, their gaze flicking nervously to her every few seconds.

The tension in the air grew thick, every action scrutinized, as if any sudden movement might provoke the towering figure by the fire. A few more people, the ones clearly more terrified, hung back at the edges of the camp, but the warmth of the fire and the promise of food eventually overcame their fear. Slowly, they began to draw closer, cautiously eyeing Vivienne as they took tentative steps into the circle of warmth. She could feel their apprehension, could practically taste the way their aether shifted under the weight of their fear, though she made no move to reassure or discourage them.

The camp had settled into a quiet rhythm as the refugees waited for their turn, watching the slow procession of bowls being filled and handed out. The warmth of the fire softened the harsh chill in the air, and the scent of the stew began to permeate the space, mingling with the faint smell of hardtack. Vivienne’s gaze swept across the group as she spoke, her voice calm but firm, a steady anchor in the middle of the chaos.

“How many bowls do we have?” she asked, her tone neutral, as if the answer were a simple detail to be taken care of.

“Nine,” came Kivvy’s immediate response, her voice sharp but thoughtful as she counted the bowls in her arms.

Vivienne nodded, her sharp gaze sweeping over the group of refugees. “Well, I guess some people will get to eat first,” she said with a hint of pragmatism. “Bring me the bowls and start handing the stew to the children first.”

The statement was matter-of-fact, no room for argument in her voice. Kivvy didn’t hesitate, nodding quickly before she moved to the edge of the fire, her small form darting between the refugees. She began passing out the bowls without pause, and Vivienne observed silently, her mind already shifting to the next task. She didn’t have time for hesitation or second-guessing. The refugees had to be fed, and this small act of kindness would, for the time being, keep them tethered to the fragile hope of survival.

As the stew was served, the children’s faces softened as they received their share, their bodies visibly relaxing with the warmth of the food. Some of the younger ones looked up at Vivienne with wide eyes, still unsure of her—still frightened of the towering creature who had saved them, but they ate anyway, instinctively understanding that this small comfort was a lifeline. Their parents, too, took the food they were offered, but they did so with hesitance, careful not to approach too quickly, too eagerly.

One by one, the bowls made their way around the fire, the last ones handed out to the older refugees, the ones who were physically weaker and who had endured the most in the unforgiving wilderness. Vivienne could see them clearly now, their haggard faces etched with the hardship of their journey, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

Eventually, everyone had eaten at least a bit of the stew, and the crackling fire continued to burn, its light reflecting off the snow around them. The refugees had settled in, forming quiet clusters around the fire, their attention split between the food in their bowls and the towering, silent figure of Vivienne at the center.

Through the soft murmur of voices, Vivienne’s attention shifted, her gaze landing on Liora. The little girl had been hovering near her the entire time, a small, indistinct shadow wrapped in a blanket, barely making a sound. Her head was hunched down, as if she were trying to make herself smaller—hidden, out of sight from the others.

Vivienne sat herself down beside the girl and extended an arm toward Liora, her dark eyes soft with an almost maternal warmth. The girl hesitated for a moment before shuffling closer, her steps small and uncertain, then leaned against Vivienne’s side. Vivienne wrapped her arm around the child, pulling her in close, offering the comfort of her presence. The warmth of her body provided some semblance of safety, though the tension in the air could still be felt.

Liora’s breathing slowed, her body relaxing in the protective circle Vivienne had formed. She buried her head against Vivienne’s side, her tiny form barely noticeable against the larger woman’s soft, dark silhouette.

Eventually she shifted slightly, her blanket rustling as she nestled closer into Vivienne's side. Her voice, barely above a whisper, trembled as she spoke, her words weighed with an innocent guilt. “I… I saw you hurt those people. Sorry”

A quiet moment passed before Vivienne responded, her words carefully measured. “And why would you be sorry?”

Liora bit her lip, her small hands clutching at the edges of her blanket. She hesitated, then spoke in a small, almost apologetic voice. “Because I was meant to hide in the wagon.”

Vivienne’s eyes softened even more, and she gave a small, almost amused chuckle. She leaned down slightly, her hand gently brushing the child’s hair in a surprisingly tender gesture. “And you did so, didn’t you?” Her voice was firm but soothing, the underlying strength in her tone a reminder of her care. “If anything, I should apologise for hurting them in front of you.”

Liora’s eyes flickered up toward Vivienne, her lips parting slightly in surprise, as if she hadn’t quite expected that response. The child remained still for a moment, processing Vivienne’s words, before she spoke again, her voice quieter now but tinged with something that might have been a hint of relief. “You weren’t scared?”

Vivienne’s laugh rang out softly in the cold air, a rich, melodious sound that seemed to carry warmth despite the chill. She tilted her head, the faintest glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “I don’t get scared, little one. I make people scared. And then,” she added with a toothy grin, “I eat that fear.”

Liora blinked up at her, her face half-hidden in the folds of her blanket. Her response was quiet, almost absentminded, as if she were still piecing together what Vivienne meant. “Oh. Okay.”

Vivienne watched her for a moment, the amusement in her expression fading into something more thoughtful. She’d claimed Liora as her daughter to give the child some form of legitimacy, to shield her from unwanted attention or questions. The claim had felt practical at the time, a simple convenience to protect the girl. Yet, as she sat there with Liora nestled against her side, a strange sense of unease crept in—a nagging awareness of the connection they shared.

She glanced down at the girl. Liora wasn’t just a convenient cover. She had been formed from Vivienne’s own body, a piece of her given shape and life. That fact was undeniable, though Vivienne hadn’t entirely come to terms with what it meant. Did that make her Liora’s mother in the truest sense? Or was the bond between them something else entirely—something that defied conventional labels?

Vivienne shifted slightly, her arm tightening just a little around Liora in a protective gesture she hadn’t entirely intended. Her gaze flicked toward the firelight, her thoughts drifting. It was a conversation she’d need to have eventually, but not here. Not now. The refugees already looked at her and Liora with a mixture of fear and wariness. The girl didn’t need the added complication of overhearing something that might confuse or frighten her further.

For now, it was enough that Liora felt safe beside her. Whatever questions lingered about their relationship could wait until they were alone—away from prying eyes, away from the delicate balance Vivienne was trying to maintain with the group. She let out a quiet sigh, her gaze softening as she glanced at Liora again.

“You’re safe with me,” she murmured under her breath, the words barely audible over the crackling fire. Liora didn’t respond, but the way she leaned just a little closer against Vivienne’s side said enough.