Night Lights and Dark Places

Chapter Eleven - Asunder

"Mum?"

Elaine felt as though she had explored the entire cave searching for her mother, having gone so far as to check the unused, partially-collapsed lower caverns and the reservoir. She circled the uppermost part of the cave a second time, growing frustrated, having found a recent scent trail but unable to make sense of it. Why would she be in the higher caverns, anyway? Nothing was up there; it was left untouched so as to not frighten away potential prey.

A shadow moved in her periphery, disrupting the light of the cave's entrance.

"Up here, Lainey."

Elaine trotted over to where Christine was standing below the opening. "What are you doing?"

Wordlessly, Christine guided her daughter back against the far wall and pointed up at the sliver of sky visible from their vantage point. "When I was little, my mother and I would go up there and look at the stars. I missed them."

The stars were bright enough to make Elaine squint. "Grandmother brought you outside?"

"Of course. The colony used to go into the forest to hunt. It was commonplace." Christine smiled wistfully at nothing in particular. "Our numbers were bigger then, or so it seemed."

"I didn't know that."

"Because we aren't allowed to talk about it." Her mother grinned at her directly, almost mischievously, and Elaine frowned. "Victor would scream his throat raw if he heard me. I could care less."

There was still a little scar on Christine's cheek, a tangible memory of the night James left.

"Have you been coming here every night?" Elaine asked pointedly.

"Yes. Does that upset you?"

"Not really. At least you bring back food." She shrugged as her mother chuckled softly. "You contribute to the colony, what's left of it. I can't say the same about Dad."

"I hate him," Christine stated, her voice as warm and pleasant as her serene smile.

"Do you hate me too? It's my fault they fought."

There was a moment of hesitation before Christine spoke. "I couldn't hate you. No matter what happened, I couldn't hate you." Punctuated with a soft hand on her daughter's shoulder, lingering there affectionately for a few breaths before falling away.

Guilt tightened her throat and Elaine did not respond for a moment, only fixated on the stars. Christine sighed dreamily for some reason.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think he'll come back? James, I mean."

Eyes glassy, Christine shook her head. Further sorrow bled into her already solemn expression. "No. But that's alright."

"What? What do you mean it's alright?"

"I like to think that he found what he was looking for," Christine said, smiling gently. "It helps."

"That's optimistic of you," Elaine said dryly, one eyebrow raised.

"It's all I have."