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That day, after her short conversation with Grandma, she found the boy perched on an island of firm ground not too far from the clearing. Maga was covered in swamp ooze, mud dripping down her face. She didn’t want him to see her; she still hadn’t decided when or how to introduce herself.
The boy didn’t look prepared for the swamp. While the swamp was the least dangerous place left, with only an infestation of the stupidest zombies, it was far from safe. The boy didn’t have a blindfold, a necessary item to have at least hanging around the neck. The head’s ability to mesmerize its prey was most of what made the stupid things so dangerous. But the boy had no blindfold or weapon. He didn’t even have a bag. She wondered how he was surviving out here without food, surely he had to be eating something.
Normally an anxious and fidgety girl, Maga was experiencing a patience she’d never had before. Grandma despaired of her attention span, unable to get her to sit still long enough to learn anything. Maga knew the time would come when she could but she just wasn’t ready yet. There was still so much playing and exploring to do.
Through the muck, an ominous hum filled Maga’s ears and her brown eyes widened, watching the boy to see what he would do. When he continued to sit there, staring into space, Maga started to get worried. The hum was getting louder and the boy only just noticed. He twisted around, trying to see where the noise was coming from.
Maga launched herself out of the mud. She tackled the boy to the ground and wrestled him into the swamp. He was stronger and bigger than she was but Maga was desperate to keep them both hidden. She hadn’t brought a weapon, it had been a long time since she’d needed one.
‘Get down!’ Maga growled at the boy.
He got away from her but looked up in time to see the flickering of the flying heads through the trees. He gasped and he dove down beside her. Maga scooped mud onto his head and pushed him deeper into the water. They closed their eyes, squeezing them tightly, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed.
The humming hovered by the island they’d just tumbled off of and Maga held her breath. Their empty, scarred eye sockets held no eyes but that never slowed them down and their pinched, withered nostrils looked useless but they could ferret out a hiding human with precision. No one really knew how the flying heads worked, not even Grandma. Maga slit one of her eyes open, looking through her eyelashes to watch. If they had to fight, she wanted some warning.
The boy trembled next to her, their hands tightly clasped together. She felt a whimper building up in his throat and she crushed his hand, hoping to keep him silent. The heads bobbed above the swamp floor for a second or two longer before disappearing. Maga didn’t get up and didn’t let the boy rise up either. They stayed in the cool, slick slime until Maga was sure the heads weren’t coming back.
‘It’s ok, they’re gone,’ Maga said, pulling the boy up with her.
He was even bigger now that she had time to look at him. He towered over her though he didn’t look much older. He looked down at her, his eyes standing out from the muddy face.
‘What were you doing?’ Maga asked when the silence got too much for her. ‘Don’t you know anything?’
‘I was just sitting,’ the boy mumbled.
‘Didn’t you hear them?’
‘I didn’t know what it was.’
‘Everyone knows that sound,’ Maga said. ‘Just how long have you been here?’
The boy shrugged and didn’t reply. When it was obvious he had nothing else to say and no real explanation for his stupidity, Maga huffed and grabbed his hand.
‘We should go get cleaned up,’ she told him. She didn’t think Grandma would mind having the boy in the house.
The boy followed her sedately back through the foliage which protected the clearing. He looked unsure as they approached but when Maga wriggled through a hole in the hedge, he followed.
Once they’d cleaned up and the boy’s damp hair was starting to spring back into its curls, Maga found some food for him.
‘Thanks,’ he said, snatching the rice cake from her hand.
She grinned, hopping up onto the other rough chair at the table. The wooden seats were worn smooth in places but the danger of splinters was always present. Neither Grandma nor Maga was good with wood.
They sat and stared at each other. Maga replaced the rice cake five more times before he slowed.
‘I’m Maga,’ she said, her elbows propped up on the table, her chin resting in her palms. She couldn’t stop staring, entranced by his presence.
‘Doxin,’ the boy said, looking at her, his expression torn between wariness and awe.
‘You don’t belong in the swamp,’ Maga told him.
He didn’t reply but continued to sit there and watch her. After a while Maga couldn’t take the silence any longer. There was too much silence in the clearing.
‘Wanna go play?’ Maga asked.
The boy nodded hesitantly but got to his feet once Maga was on hers. She led the way back out through the clearing into the swamp. She only knew how to play by herself so they did what she enjoyed doing. They climbed trees, stalked animals and swam through the swamp. Doxin was never far behind her and while he didn’t smile, his eyes were lit and she could see something lurking inside.
The end of the day came quicker than she thought it would and they were dangling from a tree when she noticed how dark it was getting. She didn’t know where Doxin spent his nights but he survived this long and she wasn’t sure she wanted him staying at Grandma’s.
‘Sunset! I better get going. See you tomorrow, Doxin!’ Maga said, hopping down out of the tree they’d been swinging in. She waved when she got to the ground and disappeared into the hedge. Maga could feel him watching her from the top of the tree.
Maga climbed into her bed, unable to stop smiling. Grandma came in, as she always did to say goodnight, stooping to blow out the tallow candle. The moon shone in through the window, lighting up the floor.
‘I had the best day ever, Grandma,’ Maga said as the old woman pulled up the blankets gathered around Maga’s feet. ‘Do you think he’ll stay?’
‘It depends,’ Grandma answered.
‘On what?’
‘Was he a nice boy?’ Grandma asked. Her voice was rougher than usual and Maga wondered if she’d spoken all day. She was used to Grandma’s roundabout way of talking and seeming inability to answer the questions asked.
‘I don’t know. But his name is Doxin and we’re going to play again tomorrow.’ Maga snuggled down into the blankets, smiling beatifically up at the ceiling.
‘Are you ready?’ Grandma asked, wiping the smile from Maga’s face.
Maga didn’t reply, only turned over in the bed, presenting Grandma with her back. Maga tucked her hands up under her cheek and scowled at the wooden wall. Grandma stood there for a heartbeat before leaving the room.
Maga didn’t know how many times she’d been asked that since she first arrived two years ago. Grandma never explained what she meant and past conversations revealed that she wouldn’t. It was supposed to be something Maga figured out on her own. After two years of the same question, it never failed to irritate her and make her angry, though she couldn’t quite explain why.
When Maga woke in the morning, the scowl was still scrawled across her face. Grandma was at the table and Maga wasn’t sure if it was because the old woman had woken up late or that she, herself, had woken up early.
Breakfast was silent and Maga could feel Grandma’s gaze on her face. She never raised her eyes to meet the mismatched ones across from her. Maga planned on eating quickly and storming out of the house but the old woman beat her to it and disappeared into her work room. Maga could hear the squawk of the woman’s familiar and the frown deepened.
Maga finished her food quickly, some of it getting stuck in her throat. She washed it down with nettle tea Grandma left on the table. Growling, the little girl entered the clearing, still inexplicably an
gry about last night.
‘He better still be here,’ Maga muttered to herself.
Doxin was right where she’d left him. They stared at each other, one in the tree and one on the ground. Maga’s foul mood wasn’t any better and she glared at the boy. He scowled back, the expression made for his face.
‘Well, are you coming down or not?’ Maga snapped.
Doxin stood for a moment, his feet precariously balanced on a limb, before he slipped down through the tree to land in front of the girl. Her scowl didn’t lessen and neither did his. They stood, arms crossed against their chests, glaring at each other.
Maga didn’t know how to handle Doxin frowning at her. Grandma never had moods and tolerated Maga’s with a patience Maga didn’t share.
‘What are you so angry about?’ Maga snapped.
‘Dunno, what are you so angry about?’ Doxin replied.
His questions brought her up short.
‘I dunno,’ she said slowly, testing the answer in her mouth. She stood there, wondering about her mood. It suddenly dissipated as the two of them stood there. Examined in the light of day, she had no reason to be mad at Grandma. She didn’t know what she was supposed to be ready for but someday she would and until then, it wasn’t something she had to worry about.
Doxin stared at her curiously as she stood silent, thinking. When he saw her face lighten, his own scowl fell from his face. He waited.
‘I’m not angry anymore,’ Maga said eventually.
‘Good,’ Doxin replied.
‘Wanna see something cool?’
‘Okay.’
‘Let’s go, then,’ Maga crowed before diving into the swamp. She rarely wore the clunky boots others found necessary as she rarely went far and her slight shoes provided all the protection she needed. Maga didn’t want the heavy boots weighing her down, though she did own a pair. Doxin was similarly clad and neither of them had any difficulty sloshing through the swamp waters.
Maga was thrilled to lead the way, delighted to have someone to share her secrets with. Doxin followed behind her without any questions and she led him further and further from the clearing where she lived. Maga knew exactly where she was going.
She froze on the edge of the water, her destination spread out in front of her. Cradled in the swamp was a dark pool that held the objects of all her fascination. Until Doxin came along, Maga spent many of her days perched in the trees, watching. She flung up a hand when Doxin tripped over a root, making too much noise. Doxin paused in the act of climbing to his feet, his breath stuttering behind her. He’d finally seen them.
Bright yellow eyes blinked into existence, their slit pupils staring at the pair of children. Maga held her breath, her palms sweating and her face flushing. They were magnificent as they rose up from the depths of the pool, their black flesh peeling back the surface of the water, their nostrils flaring.
‘Gators,’ Doxin breathed as he stared, spellbound.
Maga grinned. ‘Gators,’ she agreed.
Doxin didn’t seem as pleased as she was, grabbing her arm and pulling her down into the mud, dragging her away from the pool. The alligators rose, their interest piqued by Maga’s scream. Doxin rolled, his body covering Maga’s. Their heartbeats pattered against one another. Neither of them spoke as the first gator touched the mud inches from their frightened faces.
Maga had watched the creatures, but she’d never gotten this close before. Her face was frozen in a rictus of fear and fascination. Of all the animals she’d ever seen, the gator was her favorite and she longed for the day she might understand them the way Grandma did.
Maga found herself shuffled further under Doxin’s body until her face was hidden against his chest. She knew Doxin was staring into the golden eyes. The gators growing ever closer, she could feel his heart pounding. At least he knew not to move or look away as two more gators reached the mud embankment. Sweat dripped from his face to land on Maga’s arm. It burned but neither of them moved.
The first gator opened its mouth, the wide grimace revealing jagged teeth and fetid breath. Doxin tried not to choke at the salty smell of decaying flesh. They stared at each other and Doxin was afraid to look away, in case it lunged at him. Instead it crept closer and closer until the edge of its snout was only a fingerbreadth away from Doxin’s nose.
The ground trembled under the belly of the beast and a growl erupted from its widespread mouth. Doxin couldn’t keep the whimper in his throat and the gator snuffled in response. It was laughing at him, Maga could tell.
She could hear everything that was going on. They were being toyed with and she wasn’t happy. Her irritation rose up against the fear. Her eyebrows snapped together and she could feel the scowl forming itself. She scooted out from under Doxin, rolling until her head rested under his chin.
Maga glared at the gator and its eyes left Doxin’s to meet hers. She could see surprise in the yellow depths and that did nothing to calm her. She snorted at the gator and it reared back. Doxin’s heart picked up speed and he leaned heavily on Maga. She fought back and snorted at the gator again.
Then she opened her mouth and bellowed at it, her frustration and anger tingeing her tone. The gator froze for a moment before snuffling once again. Soon all the gators were chortling, their laughter bubbling up through the water. The three who had emerged from the water shuffled back down into it, their eyes never leaving Maga’s until they were covered in the black water. The yellow, golden and brown eyes winked out as they disappeared again until there was just the one set staring. The gator winked and then closed its eyes and sunk until only its nostrils were visible.
Doxin broke form first, scrambling backwards away from the water, pulling Maga with him. She let him drag her through the swamp and whenever he tripped, she hauled him up and hurried him along. As they broke back into familiar ground, she stopped and leaned against a tree, holding her sides and panting.
Doxin looked at Maga, her hair tangled in a halo around her face, strands dripping down over her shoulders. Maga stared back before breaking out into laughter. Doxin watched for a moment before joining in. They rolled against the tree, the nervous laughter getting louder and louder. Every time it looked like they might stop, they caught each other’s eye and started all over again.
‘I can’t believe you,’ Doxin panted in between breaths.
‘Me either!’ Maga agreed.
When the laughter finally ran its course, the two children were relieved and elated in turns. Instead of staying outside, Maga made a quick decision and grabbed Doxin’s arm. He let her drag him through the swamp, following as closley as she’d allow. They pierced the hedge surrounding the witch’s clearing and Maga bounded up to the work room she knew Grandma would be in.
The door flew open under Maga’s enthusiasm but Grandma didn’t turn away from her roughly hewn table. The woodpecker turned its head, cocking it at an impossible angle, fixing them with its one, beady, black eye. It trilled and Grandma finally looked up from whatever she was holding. Her back straightened and they stood on the threshold, both frozen in anticipation. Doxin wiped a sweaty hand on his dirty shorts, smearing mud.
‘Grandma?’
‘Hello, boy,’ Grandma said, ignoring Maga. Her attention was fixed on the ragged, muddy boy.
‘Hi,’ Doxin replied, his voice barely audible.
The old woman turned to better study at the children. A hank of white hair had fallen over her face, covering the black eye. She reached a wrinkled hand up to put it back in place. Doxin gasped when he saw what the hair hid. Grandma grinned at him. All her teeth were in place, white and incongruent in the withered face.
‘So, you found him, did you?’ Grandma asked Maga.
Maga’s brow wrinkled. She wasn’t sure what Grandma meant. The woman spoke in riddles and Maga was still learning all the layers.
‘I told you there was a boy in the forest,’ Maga reminded the woman. ‘Can I keep him?’
Grandma looked at Doxin, shuffl
ing closer to see him better. She squinted, grabbing his face and holding it up to the light. The woodpecker hopped over to look as well. Their black eyes matched and Maga tried to keep her shudder at bay.
‘You’ve chosen well,’ Grandma said. ‘Unusual, but not unheard of.’
‘Is that a yes?’ Maga just wanted to know if he could stay. She hadn’t even bothered asking Doxin but she knew he’d want to stay with her.
‘How about we have some lunch and you two tell me where you’ve been,’ Grandma said, a hand on each of their shoulders as she spun the children away from her, marching them next door.
Once they were all seated, Doxin on a stump they sometimes used as a table, Grandma repeated her question as the kids dove into their soup, a lumpy piece of bread clutched in each hand.
‘Well, Doxin and I went exploring,’ Maga started. ‘I thought I’d show him the gators.’ Maga went through the events, talking faster and faster until she reached the climax of the story. ‘And then I bellowed at him and he went away! Doxin was shaking like a leaf, but I wasn’t afraid,’ Maga bragged.
Doxin rolled his eyes but let her finish the story. Grandma sat there silently, her spoon suspended above the bowl. Her eyes flicked between the two of them, though the bird stared fixedly at Doxin.
‘You ok with staying, boy?’ Grandma asked Doxin.
He nodded as he chewed on the bread, hunger overtaking any manners he might have had. Maga still wasn’t sure where his family was or how he’d survived so long in the swamp but at least if he stayed, he’d be safe and with a family of sorts.
‘Well, not what I expected for your familiar but not a bad choice overall,’ Grandma told Maga.
‘My familiar?’ Maga had heard the word before but it had little meaning for her.
‘Are you ready?’ the old woman asked, ignoring Maga’s question. The old woman had never asked during the day before, always at night, just as Maga was about to go to sleep. Something had changed and looking over at Doxin, Maga thought it might have something to do with him.
Maga furrowed her brow, not snapping as she usually did when Grandma asked. This time it was different though she couldn’t say how.
‘I…’ Maga started, unsure how to finish. Her gaze flicked over to Doxin’s face. He wasn’t paying any attention to her and Grandma. Soup dripped down his chin but he didn’t seem to mind, bent over the bowl as he was.
‘I…I think I am,’ Maga said, the sentence sounding caught between a question and a revelation. She wasn’t quite sure what she was agreeing to but it felt right, she felt ready for whatever lay ahead of her.
‘Good. Then the two of you should go play because we start tomorrow,’ Grandma said, dropping her spoon and getting to her feet. ‘That goes for both of you,’ Grandma pointed a finger at Doxin and he froze mid-bite. He nodded and she smiled toothily at him before leaving them alone in the room.
‘Come on, Doxin, eat faster!’ Maga urged him, feeling light and unburdened. Something had happened, something had changed but she didn’t want to examine it, she wanted to be playing outside with her new friend.
Doxin slopped through the bowl, stuffing the last of the bread into his mouth.
‘What starts tomorrow?’ he asked, his mouth full.
Maga’s smile vanished and she looked as puzzled as he felt. ‘I’m not sure…something important though.’
If you enjoyed the story or have something to say, please leave a review!
Abigail Fero is continually writing more stories. Her shorts, as well as her developing series Swamp Children can be found online. ‘Swamp Familiars’ is a short story based in the world of Swamp Children. An excerpt of the first novel, ‘A Swamp of Bones’ can be found just below.
A Swamp of Bones
She stood in the middle of the swamp, her bare feet squishing through the ooze and the slime that water had made from the dirt and the earth and the blood. She was blindfolded and holding a stave, the hood of her sweatshirt pushed back so she could hear. She never knew where they would come from so she had to be alert.
A wicked blade was attached to one end of the stave and it had taken her a while to learn how to use it without cutting herself. Her father hadn’t believed in easy training. There was no training but the fight. And if you survived, you were stronger and more aware. If you didn’t, you were replaced.
Which is why she was standing in the swamp, her muscles tensed and her ears straining. In the swamp there was only one enemy and it was dangerous and stupid to look at their faces, or what was left of their faces. She was protecting the band while they foraged. Guards were posted, some sweating nervously. It didn’t take much to be promoted to guard, too many died for the leader to be picky.
Many of the survivors who ended up in the camp survived by accident but she had survived due to design. She was born after everything had started and the world had broken into feral bands and camps, struggling to stay alive.
In time, she would leave this camp and move on to the next one. The swamp was large but slowly being picked clean of food and people. She ranged from camp to camp, searching for what she’d lost.
The sole of her boot scraped against something hard as she shifted, trying to hear over her thoughts. That was her weakness, she thought too much. Her father had tried beating meditation and stillness into her but she hadn’t learned as well as she might have if he hadn’t died.
That day was still hazy in her mind and she’d been unprepared for it. Her father was the person she thought would survive through anything but he didn’t. He’d been preparing his children since they were old enough to walk. The swamp was the safest place in the world, but as the zombies started evolving, soon they were everywhere and safe became relative. Even the most remote swamp was overrun and life became about pest control.
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