White skies stretched out over the moving backs of the mountains. God's breath poured out into the valley in a tangle of breezes. First comforting, then stirring, then nearly knocking you to your knees. All would have been peaceful if it weren't for reality. The soft putter of the age old engine mixing with the sound of wrenches jostling for room inside an old tin toolbox gave a sense of apprehension which only was addressed by those assembled in passing, awkward glances. 

Of the four of them, only one spoke, swearing feverishly beneath his breath like a retired sailor. If only he could get the wheel off a bit faster. The others expressed their concern in their own unique ways. Silo kept adjusting the tightness of his ball-cap, silently hating its faded camo design. If it weren't for his eagerness to impress the Legion, he would have tossed that hat long ago. None of them were too keen on the traditional brown and green, but then again it seemed so trivial at a time when the entire world burned both physically and metaphorically. Silo was definitely the most fidgety, he always had been, and as a result he had always been the cause of most of their patrol's distress. 

"How much longer Brass?" he finally called from his position on a nearby stump. The young man working on the tire looked up briefly before returning a frustrated grunt.

"I don't know, Jesus, just give me a minute or two ok?" 

The others tried to ignore the mild fear in their voices, as though it would somehow make their own anxiety go away. One of them, a stout man of Korean descent by the name of Colin, wandered the edge of the clearing with his hand placed reflexively on his rifle. Of all of them, he had by far the most experience. Having served a brief stint as a US Army reserve before the...invasion, Colin was one who constantly liked to think that everything could go back to normal in an instant, it just took enough effort. 

Soren was unlike the other three though. A certain combination of youthful naivety and blind delirium blunted his sense of survival in a way that made most others think of him as being reckless. Nevertheless he was as dutiful as the others. In his first sixteen years he never suffered much, but since the coming of the giants he felt the horrible, disemboweling jab of loss. This was not unique to him however, although there were times when he thought it was. 

While the wind continued to stir the fallen pine needles and the sound of cranking made the others shift uncomfortably in their positions, Soren just waited. It would be a while until he had a calm oppurtunity like this again, and he considered now as a good a time as any to write down what he had just seen. After all, time and fear would surely distort the memory. 

So, quite casually, he set his M4 aside and began searching his pack for the notepad and pen he had kept. After a few idle seconds of searching, he withdrew both and turned to a blank crumpled page. Putting ink to paper he quietly began to write...

Dear Erin,

The most astounding things happen in this new life of mine. Although it is not as comfortable or as easy as my old life it is filled with many more rewards. Not all are tangible though, and I believe that my appreciation of them comes from the hardships I've faced. Ah, if only you could see it now. I am currently atop one of the highest mountains in the Cascades, looking out over the valley and it is so beautiful. It's almost hard to believe that a war rages on around me. You would be so proud of me now. I have joined the outgroup patrols of the Legion and they will no doubt promote me to a full-time operative soon. I would never have thought being a soldier would give me such purpose, but I have found a great deal of satisfaction in it.

The hours are long, sometimes hard, and sometimes very boring too, but every moment I have off I spend thinking about the good I have been doing. So far, as I've mentioned in previous letters, I've mostly been scouting with my troop. Silo, Colin, and Brass are good men and I consider myself very fortunate to work with them. Times can get heated, especially now, but in the end they are my brothers in arms. That actually brings me to the main point of this letter actually.

You see, at the moment, we are in a bit of a jam. This morning we were tasked with scouting the outer ridges for basecamp November when another squad radioed us in about some disturbances a few miles north. We went to check it out, expecting it to be more scavengers from the hills or possible another bandit caravan. It ended up being much worse. When we got there we found the wreckage of a small town, one that must have been destroyed ages ago. It didn't appear on any of our maps so we assumed we had veered far off our main course. It was then we noticed the earth had begun to shake. 

I think you know where this is going, but oddly enough, the four of us were in complete denial at the time. One of the reasons our region has become so successful in relocation for human settlement is because so few giants find their way up here. As you are probably aware, most go for the larger urban areas down South. Needless to say we were absolutely terrified when the shaking grew stronger and stronger. Silo didn't even say anything, he just jumped into the Jeep and started it up. Colin fell back as though he was going to fight the damn thing while Brass and I just ran for cover. 

In our confusion I don't think any of us really noticed when she came out from behind the mountain. That's right, a giant, a real live giant. She must have been fifty stories tall. None of us could bare to look at her though, purely out of fear. All I could tell out of the corner of my eye was that she had dark hair and a young face. This is where things get weird. Now, we have never really been trained for instances like that. Mostly only those troops down South get trained to actually fight these things so we were basically doomed. Our only real hope was stealth and...well we weren't very stealthy either. Between the yelling, the tripping, and all the chaotic scrambling I was certain she saw us. Sure enough, when I finally did poke my head out of cover I saw her staring right back at me. 

I have never prayed so fervently Erin. Her eyes were cold, narrow, and confused. I don't reallly know how best to describe her because already my mind has blurred my concepts of reality and imagination. I just remember feeling suddenly awestruck. Silo, meanwhile, was certain we were about to die. Come to think of it, so was I, but something stopped her. Instead of drawing closer she just sort of stood there, staring at us. If anything she seemed sort of shocked. Colin almost started shooting at her but we managed to calm him down before he did anything too rash. Then, after what felt like hours, she just turned and started waking off, as though we weren't worth the trouble.

I can't say for certain what dissuaded her but when I get back to camp I'll be sure to tell Father Saul. Surely this was the intervention of some divine force. Whatever the case may be, with the giantess gone we high-tailed it out of there. I don't think I've ever gone so fast in all my life. But, with panic comes recklessness which in turn leads to disaster. Silo cut abruptly around a corner and blew a tire, so for now we are just trying to fix it and get the hell out of here. Last thing we need is a bloodthirsty giant changing their mind on us or a bunch of mountain-dwelling freaks cutting us down while we idle around the woods.

Anyway, I must go, night will fall soon and I believe my time grows short. I will write to you again soon, and as always you are in my prayers.

For you, My dear I remain your loving brother,

Enoch

"Alright lets get a move on!" Brass suddenly roared. Soren looked up just as he finished touching up his writing. With two swift movements he tossed his belongings in his bag, swung his rifle over his shoulder, and joined the others. Colin gave him a slap on the shoulder as he took his seat in the back.

"Let's go, let's go. We ain't got all day. Unless want to stick around and see what that bitch might have in store for us!"

The door slammed behind him and the wheels peeled against the dirt road, carrying the four men back through the cluttered wilderness. Each led out a silent sigh of relief, expressing their joy with the usual lewd conflagration of spiteful jokes and irreverent humor. Soren remained silent for a while longer though, careful thinking of the words he had written before finally joining the others. As their jeep sped along the windy path, the sun made its hasty retreat behind the distant crests, lighting the sky with its gilding fires. Even as the winds died down and landscape made its preparations for night, not even one of them took a second to look out of their window for fear of what may look back at them through the darkness. 

 

Dear Erin,

Do you remember the day your first day of school? Do you remember how excited you were? I do. I think about it a lot these days. No one gets excited like that anymore. I think that’s what I miss most. The way people used to smile when something new came along. Nowadays everything is compared to the hellish state of the world. Some people can hardly find happiness at all, but I still find comfort in memories. Likewise, the little things still provide me with joy, and when I look at how some have it I consider myself to be very lucky.

I spoke with Father Saul about my encounter with the female a few days ago. He says that our survival was a work of God, and that he had decided to spare me because my role in his divine plan is not yet complete. It's thoughts like that which give me comfort. I asked him what that purpose may be and if I would know it when it came and he reassured me that it would come and I would be ready. I’ve never been good at waiting, you know that better than most, but with Father Saul’s teaching I think that I can persevere.

Silo and Brass still chide me over my devotion. They say that God either has gone or was never here at all. I notice that fewer people fill the pews in the chapel back at camp and I grow worried that we may be losing God’s favor. As of yet though, nothing truly terrible has befallen us. I also agree that my encounter with the giant is a sign that we are yet favored. I don’t care what the others say.

Nevertheless, things remain hard, but today is different! For once, Colin, Silo, Brass, and I have been given a real assignment. After endless weeks of scouring the forests in our Jeep I welcome any change of pace. I am almost as excited as you were that first day all those years back. This time it’s a matter of security, as it would seem a whole mess of scavengers plan to come down out of the hills to take our resources and our land. Right now I’m sitting  at the edge of the Legion’s zone of control and I must say the wide brushlands leading out toward the valley are so magnificent. It’s amazing that I never got the opportunity to really see it all before.

Do you still suffer from nightmares? I would have hoped that maybe they might have passed but to be fair I’ve been suffering from them as well. Last night I dreamt that I was captured and tormented by their kind. I am ready to die for my people but I do not know if I have the strength to resist their tortures. Pray for me in that regard, as I pray for you nightly. I will visit sometime within the next week and I will tell you so much more that I cannot express in writing now.

Until then I must work. The people are relying on me and my comrades to protect them from the barbaric tide of fodder coming from hills. I know they are vicious and they will not hesitate to rip us to shreds. Why, I still remember when Heron was shot, do you remember Heron? Poor bastard got a heavy round through the leg, completely shattering his femur. I don’t know whatever became of him but I promise that if things get out of hand today he will be avenged.

    As always I am your brother,

Enoch

The shallow world seemingly shook imperceptibly. It was enough though to wrest Soren from his focus. The small, cracked bobblehead duct taped haphazardly to the dashboard gave him an unnervingly enthusiastic nod. It begged him onward. To write and write and write as though all his words would make something happen. There existed a second of thought where he actually thought that perhaps these letters would solve his problems, but such preoccupations were dismissed when a sudden rapping at the window broke his concentration.

With a jolt he turned and met Silo’s eye. The long jagged ashen smudge crossed his face contributed to his startle.

“Hey let’s go, the captain wants us!”

“Right, yeah, sorry...coming.”

Soren emerged a moment later with his gun in hand. Silo placed a hand on his shoulder and lead him on with an amicable smile. The Jeep was parked next to an aged hickory tree on a gently sloping hill. The edge of the forest sweeped out a few yards beyond it, marking a stark boundary between the lush arboreal terrain with the tall rain-slicked grass that populated the adjacent field. All along that border at least fifty other vehicles were parked, each with their own tetrad of militia milling about around them. Soren took a deep breath, letting the scent of pine needles flood his body. The ground was soft and sticky, saturated with the previous night’s rainfall. He hated the squishing sound of his rubber treads pressing into the earth. Luckily for him the steady murmur of the gathered soldiers drowned it out quickly.

“Enoch”

“Yes sir, sorry sir!” Soren replied robotically to his addresser. His eyes searched the assembled, tired faces for the speaker but could not tell who uttered his name. It didn’t matter anyhow, for just as he raised his head he saw them coming across the field. Two hundred at the very least, all dressed in a multitude of colors. Even at that distance it was clear that there were people of every age, sex, and condition traversing the cold morning waste. Many huddled together, perhaps out of nervousness or to find ease from the early chill lingering in the air. Those Soren was with began to spread out, taking their positions behind vehicles, trees, or mounds of soil. It wasn’t until the mob had made it half a league that the message went out.

Somewhere down the line of vehicles, their commanding officer, a short, hot-tempered man named Scepter screamed into a megaphone. Soren and the others were used to the acerbity of his words, but even now, when he was directed at another target, they still cut into their skin.

“TURN BACK. YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO PASS. GO BACK TO THE HILLS, THIS IS LEGION GROUND. DISPERSE!”

None of the militia gave much thought to it at the time. The horrid ringing in their ears of their pledge of service was all they could hear. These were not people. They were scavengers. Aliens. Parasites that flaunted what order was left in the world. All that Soren could hear still pounding against the membranes of his nervous system was the single command so fervently preached to him throughout his time in the Legion.

‘Exterminate all the Brutes!’

              “Come on, what do you think Silo?” Brass suddenly asked perversely. Silo shook his head, all the while keeping his finger on the trigger of his rifle.

           “Oh they’ll try and run through, no doubt about it…”

           “I see it goin’ down that way…”Brass added callously, “what about you Colin?”

           Colin’s eyes darted back and forth across the length of the field, never straying from the encroaching mob. Even with his experience he was on edge. Anytime he was put in the direct line of duty he would anxiously await the moment to spring into action. This time was no different.

           “Colin? What you got shit in your ears?”

           “Shut up you two, we have a job to do here…”

           “Oh relax” Silo added, “Wouldn’t kill you…”

           “It just might…”

           All the while Soren stared at the ground, taking no notice of his squad-mate’s exchange nor the grievous roar of Specter’s megaphone. All the clamor of the soldiers and frightened murmur of the approaching crowd could not shake him from the slight tremor he felt. He watched as tiny blades of grass seemed to bob without the influence of wind. It crept up into his legs as well, giving the joints in his ankles a slight quiver.

           “Any day now…” another nearby militiamen muttered. Soren still did not take notice, he only felt the earth’s subtle quake, as though it was anticipating blood. The earth thirsted for it indeed. Perhaps somewhere along the way they all believed that the rows civilizations could be watered with more blood. Like crops, their skyscrapers would spring back to life, heralding a new age for humanity.

           The two waves neared, and Scepter’s words flew from his mouth with greater speed and ferocity. If you were to ask any of the soldiers who gave the order, none would be able to say for certain. Perhaps no one did. The only thing that was certain was, like a wildfire catching a puddle of gasoline, the whole battalion erupted. A heavy gunner down the way was the first that Soren heard. Its pounding barrel sending forth sprays of lead which cut through a dozen hapless bodies. At that range, with so many people, no one bothered to aim. It was just ceaseless courses of light and smoke that were spat viciously into the crowd. There was immediate panic. As the wave of hysteria came over the assembled militia, Soren found himself closing his eyes and squeezing the trigger.

           He felt his weapon’s barrel kick wildly for thirty seconds, he felt scalding bits of metal fly against his chest and then it was over. Amidst the dreaded chaos he could not for a moment hear his own weapons discharge, nor did he witness his bullets bite into the bones or flesh of those in front of him. For a second he didn’t even believe his gun went off. Then as his lids lifted once more he saw the carnage. The green fields were red and brown, pale bodies stacked themselves against each other in the puddles. Those that had escaped the stinging pellets ran back in the opposite direction, abandoning their belongings, their families, and some pieces of themselves. Survivors of the onslaught waited in the field but their voices could not match the rumble of Legion guns or the screams of fleeing refugees. Upon closer inspection Soren found that the cries of the wounded were muted not by gunfire or wails but by the blood that clogged their throats. The initial wave of rattling died out, leaving only a few stray bullets to twang about the plain, striking without purpose into the soft earth or into the bodies of those already slain.

           It grew quiet for a second, with the only sound coming from the retreating moans of anguish and terror. Then, the grinding of tires and engines joined alongside that terrible chorus. Scepter’s own vehicle began splashing down into the swamp of human fluid, ready to run down those retreating. It would seem the Colonel was not about to allow the scavengers another attempt. Some other vehicles roared up and joined him. Soren and the others stood frozen however, still drinking in the carnage to which they had contributed.

           “Shame” was all Silo said.

           “Yeah.” Soren concluded softly to himself. None of them expressed any outward regret or personal pain. They all put on the stoic faces handed out to those soldiers who have seen slaughter. Colin had already returned to the Jeep, stowing his rifle in the back, before finally emptying his stomach all over the ground next to the back right tire.

           “Hey, you better not be getting any of that on my seats!” Brass bellowed back to him.

           Then Soren felt it again. The violent shake. This time though, it was far stronger. It was about that time the others noticed  as well. One nameless militiamen down the line, closest to the distant mountains, screamed something. A few others joined him. All eyes turned in their direction, and, as they did, they caught sight of the tremors’ source.

           Suddenly, one of the vehicles went soaring through the air, finally crashing down onto the ground some three hundred feet out. The mangled corpses of its occupants went flying out as it rolled to a stop. Soren ducked behind a sapling and stared out at a dark shadow between the conifer boughs.

           There, at the edge of the clearing, looming high above the tree line, was the same dark-haired giantess from a few days earlier. Soren tried to suck in a breath of oxygen, but found that something obstructed his esophagus.

The chaos only mounted. The remaining migrants suddenly turned away from the new threat, funneling through a gap in the trees on the field’s opposite edge. The militia closest to the female broke immediately. Many fled into the woods, while others tried desperately to push past one another in their vehicles.

           The titaness wore a scowl on her face, as though she had been personally offended. With one swift movement she brought her left leg back, before quickly bringing it across the row of escaping Jeeps. Two of the vehicles were pushed into the nearby trees. Those on the ground, stumbled wildly, firing their weapons crudely as they retreated, even striking some of their own in their struggle to get away.

           “Fuck, fuck, fuck, come on!”

           Soren reeled around and saw Silo’s hand gripping him by the collar. His entire body went limp as his comrade began dragging him toward their vehicle. Brass had already started the engine by the time Soren’s head smacked against the upholstery. The wheels’ axles squealed as they spun out into the field. Brass had no direction, he was only focused on moving and being fast about it. The entire car jostled and bounces as they sped over the crumpled bodies, steering left and right to avoid those dispersing on foot.

           “Watch out, what the fuck!”

           Soren sat up and saw only the blur of grey and green through the windows. Then, just as quickly as they had started up, they screeched to an abrupt stop. A thunderous shockwave rocked the entirety of the valley. Blinking through the bloody spray and mist Soren saw the monstrous heel of their adversary not twenty feet in front of them, right where another car had just been. More screams, both of pain and terror, wafted in through the shattered Jeep windows. Another vehicle was swept up into the air. Arching his neck up, Soren looked on as the colossus lifted the crumpled metal shell up toward her face. A pair of flailing figures, leapt from its back, careening down into the ground in a conjoined symphony of distress and spasmodic reflex.

           “GO!”

Many froze in place when the deafening voice echoed out over the valley. Soren opened his door in order to run, but as soon as his feet touched the ground his legs went completely limp, causing him immediately to collapse.

“LEAVE HERE NOW!” the giant bellowed further. The voice was so loud and angry that it left an awful ringing in Soren’s ear. As he lay dazed and stupefied he found he could only move his neck so that he could see the gargantuan figure standing over him. She looked out over the plain as more people fled. Somewhere in the corners of his perception, Soren heard the faint crackle of Scepter’s voice through his megaphone. The words were jumbled and incoherent, but it was apparently enough to seize the giantess’ attention. Her head swiveled to face the Colonel’s overturned truck. Both eyes narrowed on the acidic character and her mouth melted into a forced frown.

“These are my lands, I’ll not have you contaminating it with your presence. And as for them…” she growled, pointing at the last few scavengers disappearing into the wilderness. “Only I may lay hands on them! They will die if I say they die and they will live if I see fit, this is MY valley!”

With that the massive heel suddenly reared up, before finally planting itself back down a good ways to Soren’s right. The giantess continued to scan the field with her eyes, looking on with disgust at the mutually created carnage. One hand went up to her mouth, as if trying to hide an expression or perhaps to stave off vomit. Soren tried not to look at her as she passed back toward the direction from which she initially came.

Both of his hands were clasped tightly together. It wasn’t until Colin’s face appeared in his field of vision that he regained some feeling in his extremities. Even as the others gathered him back up into the vehicle his attention lay on the receding giant, all the while wishing the myriad of horrors around him would just disappear.

“Come on, get him in, somethin’ happened to him!” Colin cried to the others. They could hardly hear him over the cries of a dying woman nearby.

All round the fabric of humanity had been punctured. Life and death. Violence and solace. Weeping and anger. Above all else was the hopelessness, and how, even as though still with the faith attempted to pray, they could find no words to speak. At that moment all that was left was the brutal delusion that things would be better.

 

The walls of latrine were streaked with condensation. The dry plywood soaked it up with unforgiving thirst as the nearby stalls belched steam and water. For now though, they lay dormant. The first wave to return from the field had already passed through the showers, leaving the grime covered floorboards streaked with darkened footprints and spots of crimson blood. Just outside, along the bent plank steps, two figures shuffled hastily up into the humid interior.

           “There we go, there we go, come on, nice and easy now…” Silo muttered in a rather faulty attempt to console his comrade. Soren leaned against him with one arm over his shoulder, stumbling wildly this way and that. The shock and injury he had received from the field still left him crippled. Finally he careened down onto a nearby bench, letting out an exhausted sigh as he did.

           “There, not so bad is it? Now lets get this shit off of you…” Silo went on. With some effort he managed to peel the stained jacket off Soren’s back, leaving on a tattered undershirt beneath. This too was removed and tossed aside. All the while Soren tried to form words.

           “Wh-wh-wh, aaat, happ”

           “Shhh shhh, come on now take it slowly now. You’re still in shock, lets get you cleaned up and then we can talk eh?”

           Silo moved down to Soren’s feet, prying off each muddy boot. Soren just sat there, staring ahead at the row of showers. The skin on his back was shredded by broken glass , mingling with a grotesque myriad of stranger’s blood when he fell onto the humor soaked soil. Silo stood him up and lead him toward one of the stall.

           “Alright, there we go, I’ll leave the rest to you. You think you can manage that?” he asked rather slowly. Soren nodded and gave his ally an awkward pat on the back. “Alright, good. I’ll be just outside ok?” with that Silo disappeared, leaving Soren propped up against the wall just outside one of the makeshift cubicles. Once he was sure Silo was gone, Soren began haphazardly trying to pull his trousers off. He collapsed onto the ground in the process, but, even in spite of his shaking limbs, he managed to remove them.

           Finally, stepping onto the coarse, mildew addled shower floor, Soren pulled the current back behind him and turned one of the knobs on. The pipes gurgled and groaned for a second before allowing a meager stream of icy water to erupt from its spigot. The stream crashed down onto the crown of his head, coursing out along the rest of his body, cutting through the gobs of mud, detritus, and blood. A sickly colored puddle began to form at his feet before swirling away down the makeshift drain.

           As the patter of water eased his wounds his mind wandered back to the horror he had recently witnessed. The bodies, the sound of gunfire, then the towering figure that nearly crushed him underfoot. She was so incredibly foreign and monstrous that he nearly forgot her human characteristics. In his mind her feet turned to talons and her face a shadowed mass of evil. Then, somehow, it all melted away. He instead began to recall the shape of her towering calves, and how her brow wrinkled in stern disgust at the sight of them. Somehow he didn’t feel truly ashamed about his actions until he faced her god-like scrutiny.

           “Everything alright in there?” Silo called from out front.

           “Y-y-yeah.” Soren managed to stutter back. Immediately though his thoughts returned the titaness. The tremendous size she seemed to carry was somehow artistically placed. Rather than a massive monstrosity she gave off the aspect of some well-crafted Greek statue, with each limb and feature formed with some creative purpose in mind.

           All his thoughts were interrupted once more though by some distant drumming. Was it another convoy? Perhaps a troop marching back into camp? No, it was the chatter of voices. The chant was raised in harsh uniformity that brought many a battlefields to mind. Yet, as he listened more closely, Soren noted that this was not soldiers crying out, nor was it a choir of angels. Instead it had the gleeful pitch and timbre of a flock of children, chanting giddily with one another. What they said both chilled and invigorated him.

           “Exterminate all the brutes!”

           And with that Soren shut his eyes and let the water continue to wash over him. He remembered the rallies and the range. He remembered the physical and the mental pain. Then he remembered how much he wanted to see that titanic woman slain on the field.

              

“Then I saw when that lamb broke one of the seven seals! One of the four creatures came forward and said “Come and see!” and I saw”

Soren shifted uncomfortably in his seat. After the tumultuous events of that morning he wanted nothing more than to sleep, especially if it’d help him forget it all. In the end though he was too afraid to shut his eyes, for he felt that he would see them all in the darkness. No, instead he had wandered back to chapel to speak with Father Saul. Nothing seemed to ease his dismay, as only the overwhelming shadow of his actions seemed to block out the light of the sun.

“And behold!” Saul bellowed out from rickety stage. “a white horse, and he who sat upon had a bow, a golden crown was given unto him, and he went out conquering and to conquer!”

All others in attendance listened with anxious fervor. Aside from Soren, only twelve others found themselves in the pews, each twitching and shaking with their own afflictions. Saul’s words stirred with cinders and harsh gravity, pounding down onto his parishioners’ hearts like crude nail.

“Now I think it is evident that these times are upon us.” he went on, shifting his gaze from one end of the chapel to the other. Physically he was worn and greyed, but his eyes and his movements were filled with zealous intention. Those who knew him liked to describe him as a fire caught up in a man’s body. He was quick tempered and would frequently whip himself up into religious frenzies, preaching hellfire and perdition without so much as blinking. “Already these revelations are apparent, The white horse came and went, our lands, conquered and destroyed, now lie at the mercy of Devil’s children, who trod upon us like ants!” His grey eyes danced from the timid faces of those listening to the shaking figure of his most loyal student. When Soren met his wild gaze, Saul stepped down off the plywood surface onto the dusty ground.

“But we, we are the children of God! And who is greater I ask? Satan may try to break our bodies but he cannot break our spirits, isn’t that right?” the others all gave approving nods. Some muttered in approval but Saul thirsted for more. “I said isn’t that right” again they responded with slightly more energy. “They have taken peace, they have spread their famine, and now death and hell sit up on us! But I must remind you all…’Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth’, my brothers and sisters it cannot be more clear!”

Again those around him began to stir with some renewed energy. Soren however, could hardly comprehend the words. Shellshock still kept his limbs crippled. It wasn’t until Saul stopped right in front of him and placed a hand on shoulder that he broke from the stupor.

“We are the promised generation of the Lord, now gather all you round, come on up, come on up to me let us profess our faith for this poor boy. Enoch we gon fix you right on up, come on now all of you. Let’s show that Devil that we ain’t afraid of him no more!”

All laid hands upon him, all whispered quiet prayers save Saul who howled some foreign verse to the skies. Although they prayed together Soren could tell that none of their prayers were for him. After all why should they be?

The next day, Enoch stepped out of the vehicle he borrowed into the small clearing. The sunlight was depleting enough that only a few sparse rays breached the canopy of the forest. Another cool wind stirred some of the saplings and Soren felt himself begin to tear up. He took a seat on a lone stump and watched the passing birds retreating in a singular mass. He knew what it meant, the birds were always the first to flee. Nevertheless he removed his yellow notepad and pen from his pack and started to write.

Dear Erin,

I don’t know if I’ll ever get to write to you again so I want this to count for something. Things have not gone as I expected them. Already I see the persistent red stains on my hands that I can’t wash out. It gets in my clothes and in my hair, and its just...everywhere all at once I want nothing to do with it anymore. Yesterday I saw so many people die and I realized just how sinful this world is, myself included. But I did not, I should have been crushed but I was not. I suppose this means my purpose is far greater than I had initially anticipated. Maybe my reasoning is clouded by my shock but whatever it is I have to tell you now. I just hope you’ll understand.

I spoke with Father Saul again. I went to his sermon and afterward he told me the story of my namesake. He was the ancestor of Noah, and, as Saul put it, “with God, such that he lived for 365 years”. Saul says he named me such because he knew that I would outlast all else for I was beloved by God himself. I wonder if that is true. It doesn’t seem fair that I, a mere soldier of twenty, should be so consumed by his favor. I have decided that if it is indeed true than I will go out and face one of the beasts themselves, if I am spared than I will know. I know this must seem foolish and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.

Suddenly, the ground shook. Soren’s hand jumped, causing his pen to tumble onto the ground. He shut his eyes and reached down for it. On his lips was a makeshift prayer he had constructed in his anguish. Everything he had been working toward was now in jeopardy. In his last few logical moments he returned to his writing.

Life in this world is so brief anyway, and I’ve decided it's much better to live a short fulfilling life with a singular purpose than to let my years drag on with more of this sadness. I just wish that I could get the opportunity to see me as I am once before I’m gone. Oh well, I’ll see you soon, that much I promise.

With love, your brother,

Enoch

It was about that point he noticed the dark, hulking shape beyond the slits between the trees. The earth quaked with a predictable pattern as an even darker shadow passed over the mountainside. Soren had expected to find her around the valley by the old abandoned town they had found a few days before, but he never imagined crossing path would be this easy. He swallowed hard, clutched his rifle tightly and withdrew a bright orange flare gun from his pack. He stumbled over into the clearing where he could see her through the brush. There, passing by the mountain was the same dark haired giantess he had encountered twice in the past week. With a shaking hand he leveled the weapon into the air and fired.

Immediately a bright red streak of light soared up into the atmosphere before arcing back down some five hundred yards out. The crackle of gunpowder and the blinding crimson glow was enough to snag the giant’s attention. She turned her head ninety degree toward the spot where Soren stood paralyzed. He let his arm drop as he stared out at the massive being. Only a slight glimmer from her eye passed the veil of black hair draped over the side of her face. Then, the rest of her torso seemed to twist. Each passing second felt like a brief eternity to Soren, who now stood rigid in his place, repeating a Psalm quietly to himself. Then her face came fully into view. At this level her features were a little clearer.

She had a face that seemed weathered by grief. Her neck was slender and everything else about her would have been perfectly symmetric if it weren’t for a small cut on her right cheek. At first she looked at him with muted fear, which she quickly and forcefully changed to a confused curiosity.

“And who are you?”

 

Dear Erin,

I can hardly believe that I am writing to you now. Even though I know you will not get this letter I think it’s important that I put my thoughts down. There is so much I wish to tell you. My life has taken a turn for the strange. Perhaps this is just for myself, but I like to think that you can hear these words nonetheless. You see, I was staring into the face of certain doom and, despite my fear, I was unshaken. The giant, the one whom I’ve told you about, did not kill me right away. Instead, we exchanged words. They were awkward, uncertain words but they were still words. When she saw me trembling along the mountain’s edge she seemed more curious than angry. I think, at first, she expected to be attacked, as though I led some covert ambush, for she was initially very reluctant in drawing closer to me. I would have been much more  satisfied if she just turned around and left but, I’m afraid that is not what happened at all. After just a few silent seconds she asked me who I was, to which I replied “Enoch, an agent of God” which she did not hear or understand. When she found that she was not to be attacked she drew a bit closer. Admittedly I was horrified, but, just as I was about to run, she spoke. Her voice was thunderous but it did not have the same commanding vigor it had days before.

For a second I must digress, for I wish to express how odd it is for her to be living so close to Legion territory. It is strange because being a giant and a loner, she should have either been turned back the threat of assault or attempted to attack us by now. Yet, she seems content to live in her ruin of a town with her captives. Oh, that brings another point to mind.

You see our conversation was rather brief. She asked what I was doing and I told her the truth. I said that I had come to prove my faith and test the Devil’s resolve, but she didn’t seem to catch my meaning. She said I was odd, and, before I could reply or even blink, she trapped me beneath her hand. At first I thought the darkness that surrounded me was the blanket of death but after I finally collected myself once more I began to hear her voice again. She offered me a chance to live if I followed her demands. Truth be told I did falter in my purpose then. I had been so terrified that when she finally lifted her hand again I followed her words. Surely I will be punished for such indolence but until then I am a prisoner. She took me in her palm and stowed me away in a small cloth pouch hanging from her hip. I was then faced with a nauseating journey back to her hovel, between the two peaks north of the old town I mentioned previously.

When we arrived she dumped me out onto a pile of oversized cloth and left me there. I wandered that place for some time, admiring the massive trinkets she had brought with her or fashioned from human made materials. I was there about an hour when I finally met the prisoners.

That’s right Erin, prisoners. This one didn’t kill or eat her prey like many others. Or at least not at first. Instead she collected them! For what end I do not yet know. All I know now is that I found a hole, dug out of the earth with an enormous cloth laid over it. Inside were at least thirty others. Men, women, and even some children trapped in the darkness below, covered in dirt and rags. I spoke to one man, his name was Thomas, who said that many of them had been there for months. I asked them what camp they were from and most hesitated to answer. I didn’t get much more out of them, because it was about that point the giant returned. I moved away from the edge of the pit and resumed my position on the folded fabric. That was yesterday now. I slept there, awoke, and now write to you.

In all it has been surreal but somehow reassuring. I have not yet died, but I fear I shall be turned into a slave like the others. Either way I have thanked the Lord for my safety and now feel somewhat certain that I am indeed in his favor. The giant slept a ways off from me and has not yet said a word to me. She seems to wear a perpetual look of sadness on her face, which, so far, I’ve only seen depart when she speaks to others. I will try and continue writing you these letters, but I fear-

“What are you doing?” a curious but weary voice bellowed down from overhead. Soren immediately fell back, dropping his notepad and snapping his attention up at the pale face hanging overhead. The giantess stared down at him with unphased interest. There was less moodiness in her expression. In fact, if Soren had to describe it he would likely have said ‘neutral’. She sat a little ways off to his left, crossed legged but leaning keenly over his position some one hundred feet above him.

“Wh-wha-what?” he stammered back up at her. The massive woman did not register his words but could guess at his reply.

“I said: What are you doing?” she repeated a little slower. Both stared at each other a while longer, trying to gauge the other’s thoughts. Soren shifted cautiously backward a bit, all the while searching the vicinity with his hands for anything that might aid him. His fingers brushed over his notepad and he quickly and defensively brought it up in front of him.

“I’m...just...writing!”

Her face scrunched up a bit. Then, she lowered her head a bit more, causing Soren to let out a long, mortified breath.

“What was that?”

“I said...writing” he said once again a bit louder, though his voice did crack a bit from the strain.

She gave him another curious look and opened her mouth to speak again. Before any words could come out though, a clamor started up in the covered pit a few hundred yards to the pairs’ flank. Her eyes darted over to the hole and she immediately adopted a scowl.

“Keep quiet down there or I’ll make sure none of you ever speak again!”

The severity of her voice and her words made Soren’s heart skip. His mouth went dry and every inch of his skin was coated in an anxious sweat. When she did turn her eyes back to him he couldn’t even bring himself to move. The giantess’ expression softened as soon as she saw his trembling form.

“What are you writing?”

“A...a letter”

Her eyes narrowed. She seemed skeptical, on several unexplainable fronts. Soren just watched the outline of her mouth, as it hung agape for a brief moment before finally twisting to form words once more.

“A letter?”

Soren nodded.

“A letter to who?”

“M-m-my sister”

“A sister?” she cooed with some interest. She readjust her sitting position so that she leaned on her knees. Both arms came down and laid down upon the rocky earth with several rough tremors. Each one shook Soren’s already stress addled body just enough to renew the nausea permeating his flesh.

“How will it get to her?”

“I...it...it won’t”

She smiled briefly. It wasn’t a warm, friendly smile though. No this smile was steeped with cruel knowledge. The giant made her purpose clear in that single gesture. Soren knew it all too well but tried his best to focus on the words preached to him by Father Saul. Yet, even in spite of his effort nothing could tear his mind from the accursed smile directed toward him.

“No, no it won’t. Now, do you know why you’re here little man?”

Soren closed his eyes and thought about the camp. He thought about his tent, and his fellow squadmates. He thought about the empty pews in the chapel and all the letters he’d never get to send to Erin. Above all else he thought about the two rows of porcelain teeth loitering overhead.

“...no…” he managed to say with some semblance of dignity.

“No, you don’t. But I’ll tell you”

Soren leaned back, wincing from some imagined pain that may befall him. Nevertheless, he was listening intently, curious as to the titaness’ motivations. She drank in his apprehension for a few more seconds before finally responding.

“I need you to tell me a few things. You are one of those little soldiers, yes?”

Soren nodded, but the giantess could not tell. She assumed he meant to affirm her inquiry and continued on.

“Good, because I want to know where your camp is…”

Before she could say anything else. Soren’s face dropped. He knew he would never betray his people, but she sure as hell didn’t. From that point on he could only think of the awful torture he’d endure at her hands. Yet, even as visions of bloody dismemberment filled his head, the dark haired woman did not show signs of malice. If anything she seemed very matter-of-fact. As though this wasn’t surprising news to her tiny captive.

“Why?” Soren replied shakily.

“Well because, these are my territories, you all keep moving into it. We can’t have that now”

“I don’t understand…”

“Hmph” she frowned, as though disappointed. “...I guess I shouldn’t expect you to understand. But it doesn’t matter. You tell me, and you can go. Easy as that.”

Soren sensed that there was much more to it than she said. Besides, everything he had heard suggested that the giants would lie, cheat, and steal their way to whatever ends. This was surely a trick and he would not be so easily cajoled by a bashful face or the overwhelming threat of death.

“I-I can’t”

With that she withdrew a bit. Her face fell back into its neutral state and she looked out through the nape of the valley toward the edges of the town shrouded by trees. A long, exhausted sigh escaped her lips and she began to shift back onto her feet.

“That’s a shame.” were her only words. As she rose back up into the air Soren nearly vomited once more. Her hand passed over his position briefly, ensnaring him in a collection of shrouded muscular vices. Everything in his body shriveled at the touch of her fingers. He could not make sense of direction, he felt only the rush of movement in his veins as the fluids in his body sloshed this way and that. A second later there was more darkness, and then he fell. He hit the soft earth.

When he finally picked himself back up he could hardly breath. His new prison was musty and dark. Through the earthen haze he saw a multitude of eyes staring back at him, all fearful that he too might rise up in terrific grandeur and tear them limb from limb.

“Err, hello…”

 

“Say, you don’t talk much do you?” A voice through the darkness asked. It had very little anger, very little malice in it at all, making it seem grossly out of place amid this new shrouded environment. Soren eased back a bit, pressing his spine against the rock-ridden trench wall. Though the voice wasn’t inherently evil he could still detect the subtle hints of dread hidden away within its folds. Since he had been cast into this abyss, Soren tried his best to keep to himself. Although he was somewhat relieved to have returned to the company of living, breathing humans he was not too comfortable being left with a bunch of outsiders.

“Leave him be Vic, he’s new, he doesn’t know how it works here yet.”

“Yeah, besides, from what I can tell, this one’s different. He was up there, with her! For a while too!”

Then a woman’s voice chimed in: “Both of you calm down and go to him. Don’t you remember your first night here? You understand what’s going through his head right now don’t you?”

Soren listened with restrained anticipation. Although his eyes were still adjusting to the blackness, he could still detect movement a little ways out. He knew that he was surrounded by people, at least twelve of them, maybe more. From what little light poured in from overhead he could tell that four of them were within ten feet, staring keenly at him with beady, fragile eyes.

“At least ask him his name”

“Didn’t Thomas speak with him? Where is he anyway?”

“Hush up now I think he’s getting up…”

And Soren did rise. Slowly but surely he rocked back onto his feet, holding both hands out in front of him in case anyone should approach. In a hoarse voice, sore from yelling at his enormous captor, Soren began to address his fellow prisoners:

“Who is in charge here?”

There was some quiet muttering amongst those present, but no one directed an answer back at Soren. He stood in perplexion for a second before finally the woman who had been speaking piped up once more.

“Well...she is…”

“Who?”

“You know who, Tryn.”

“Who?”
Suddenly one of the four figures stepped up to Soren. A bit startled, he tried to take a step back but found he was still blocked by the earthen barrier. The dark figure raised his hand and pointed up toward the fabric roof. Soren knew immediately who they meant and his heart sank a little bit.

“You guys don’t have a leader amongst yourselves? No one to...I don’t know...organize? Delegate? Nothing?”

Soren felt their eyes on him. They stared with curious expressions...or at least he assumed they were curious. There was more muttering and the shuffling of feet. Finally one of them responded.

“Why would we? All that stuff...it's not up to us.”

“Right…” Soren replied with a sigh. “Its up to her…”

“Who are you anyway?” A new voice asked to his left.

“Me? I’m...well I guess I’m no one now…”

The stranger paused but then continued on. “True, but even no one’s have names. What’s yours.”

“Enoch”

“Enoch?” the man next to him blurted out. “Sounds like a damn giant’s name…”

“It is from the Bible”

As soon as he let the “B” word slip out of his mouth the others around him began to talk in an unusual canter. There was no hush, no attempts to shield their words. People spoke freely with one another. Some said things like “He’s one of them Knee’s”, or “They still have those things around here?”  

“Alright ‘E-knock’” continued the man standing adjacent to Soren. “My name is Vic, this here to my right…” he said, gesturing into the shadows at the outline of what Soren assumed to be a man, “ this here is Caleb, next to him is Brian, and then to his left is Kate. I won’t drag on trying to introduce you to everyone else for now. They don’t like you none anyhow.”

“W-why?”

“Well cuz you’re an outsider. Sides, you a uniform and a Knee”

Soren could guess what they meant by the uniform, but Knee? He had never heard the term before. He was about to ask what it meant when all the other questions he had stocked up in his head began flooding back into mind. Without even attempting to filter them out he began blurtiing inquiry after inquiry.

“Why are you all here? What is going to happen to us? Where do you-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down their kiddo.” The man who he thought to be Caleb interrupted. “look, we know you must be pretty riled up right now, just know that you are safe for the time being. If anything you’re probably better off than the rest of us…”

“What do you mean by that?”

Suddenly Soren felt Vic’s hand on his shoulder. Instinctively Soren brought his own hand up and grabbed ahold of the stranger’s forearm. His grip tensed up as he felt the tendons in Vic’s wrist twist.

“Whoa, jumpy fella aren’t ya, just take a seat. Calm down for a sec…” he turned his head away for a moment and barked at a young girl a little ways behind him. “Lisa, go grab him something to eat, go on now!” The child ran off in a hurry, disappearing into the veil of black like a pebble beneath the sheen of a lake. Soren held his breath, anticipating her return. Before she did though, Brian spoke up.

“We say that you have it better off because you was up there so long with her. I mean, she let you stay the night up there and all right?”

Soren nodded, but quickly realized they could not see his subtle gesture so he gave a short, choppy “yes”

“Right, well most of us stay down here. She only deals with us in groups, and when we come up it's because she’s got something she wants us to do. We’s expendable, there’s something she must like about you. The only other person she does that to is Scott and that’s just ‘cause she likes it when he plays his guitar for her. That’s about it”

“Yeah, besides, we could hear the way she talked to you.” Kate added “it wasn’t like the way she talks to us. You must got somethin’ she likes or wants. Maybe both…”

“Yeah… she wanted...she wants to know where I’m from…”

“Wha- hell that’s it?” Vic cried out.

“Hush up now Vic! What’s so important about where you come from?”

“Well…” Soren hesitated. He didn’t like being asked all these questions when he still had so many left unanswered. Finally after some consideration, he concluded it wouldn’t be important. “she wants to know so she can find my camp. I guess to...do whatever it is she does…”

“Ahh, add to the pool”

“What?
“Nothing, just relax kid, you’ll be fine…”

With that the little girl returned, clutching something in her arms. A box, a pale grey box. Well, it looked grey at least. She gently placed it on the ground by Soren before running back into the chirping crowd. Soren reached down and picked it up.

“Save that…” Vic declared with a bit of a chuckle “that’s about all you’ll get for the week.”

Soren hardly slept that night. The rest of the evening was composed of static exchanges between him and the four who felt it necessary to interrogate him. It became quickly apparent that they didn’t trust him. In many ways, Soren thought he could even detect some jealousy in some of their voices. He assumed it was due to the better treatment he had already and would apparently continue to receive. Though, after some time he wasn’t so sure. Each passing story was odd, but then again Soren knew that this giantess, this Tryn, was already odd enough. Apparently she wasn’t a crazed murderer. Instead she seemed mostly interested in extending her authority over the humans. Aside from that though, she wasn’t very social. They could go days without seeing or even hearing her. The only consistency was the food supplies she would deposit twice a week.

As he tossed and turned on the sticky earth he couldn’t help but feel cold and alone in his new home. Throughout the night he could hear the traces of whispers carried through the stale currents of air. Did these people ever sleep? Soren reluctantly sat up after hours of futility, staring blankly into the blackness occupied by floating dust and the near promise of silence.

“Is he awake?” he heard a small voice ask.

“I think so, see he sits up!” another replied.

Soren’s head snapped in the direction of the noise but he saw no bodies to accompany the sounds.

“Who’s there?”

The only response was the shuffling of feet as two indiscernible shapes retreated back into the distant shadow. Was this a nightmare? Was Soren slowly losing his mind?

“No, no! Come back here! What’s going on!”

First there was nothing, just the coldness that comes from the unknown. The black tar of the early morning dripped down his back, chilling his nerve endings so that he shivered uncontrollably. The meager blanket he had been given provided no comfort, no warmth to tell of. Soren felt like sobbing, but knew that it would be unwise to waste tears when it would only get worse from here on out.

“Hush now!” another voice came. Easing in through the haze was the shape of a man. He stooped next to Soren just out of arm’s reach and spoke on. “There ain’t no need for yellin’, the only people who’s gonna hear you is us. She won’t bother to come and get ya till she’s ready.”

“Caleb?”

“Yep”

“How long have you been here?”

Caleb’s head dropped. As he stared at his own footprints in the clay he began counting off on one hand, paused, then began counting off on the other.

“Shiiit, must be at least seven months now, give or take”

“Seven months? Do most make it that long?”

Again Caleb stopped to think, this time dragging out the seconds by drawing something unseen in the dirt with his thumb. Soren watched as his hand swirled around atop the solid ground, feeling a sort of morbid entrancement keeping his mind off of more important things.

“Most do, but that’s not to say some don’t die. From the cold, disease...her.”

“Her?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she ain’t all that bad, just stupid. She don’t know why she wants us here and she’s bad at handlin’ us sometimes. Most of the time if she kills someone its an accident, pretty easy when you that big an’ all.” Caleb continued to trace his creation in the soil, pressing his thumb deep into his ebony canvas to create shallow fissures. Soren still could not see it but he somehow still knew what it was that he was drawing. “She was never that torn up about it, from what I hear from some of the newer folk she don’t shy away from killin’ none. She flatten you right out quick if she feels like it. Best be careful. You may be a favorite of hers but it only mean you’s a lot more likely to get yourself in trouble if ya fuck it up. You get me?”

Soren nodded. When he looked down he noticed a little more light had started to flood in, casting just enough luminance on the ground to reveal Caleb’s creation. It was a simple face with a pair of x’s for eyes. Soren didn’t understand what the gesture was supposed to mean, but he didn’t like it. Just before he could ask any more questions the entire pit shook. A pause, then once it shook once more. Moments later the sparse light suddenly slammed down on top of them as the barrier acting as their roof was suddenly torn away. Neither of the men could see in the blinding morning light. Both knew that their titanic captor lingered overhead though. Soren looked away out of sheer discomfort, while Caleb looked down in some emotional snare. Was it shame? Perhaps some sort of reserved reverence for his master? Soren couldn’t tell.

A second later something seized him. It was an intense pressure which gripped his sides like nothing he had ever experienced prior. As he was carried upward the air escaped his lungs. It was pure agony, the journey out of the pit, but it was quick. Moments later he felt himself crash down onto another surface, giving him ample time and space to suck in greedy gulps of oxygen. It was another five minutes before he was ok again. In that time he tried his best not to imagine his new environment, but as his eyes adjusted he couldn’t help but note the long stretch of pale flesh beneath him. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the makeshift shelter woven from tree trunks. He never noticed it before, how this giantess managed to construct a little tarp to hang between cliffs. It was clever, but crude.

“Feeling better?” the titaness’ voice boomed. Soren shot up off her palm and met her eye to eye. She still wore a somber expression, as though she had spent the whole night awake thinking melancholy thoughts. She was also dressed differently. The once drab grey throw that had wrapped around her torso and ended down at her thighs was now replaced by two articles of clothing. Across her torso was stretched a rather simple tunic, obviously hand stitched from some beige cloth while her legs were covered in a simple skirt with a diagonal cut. Soren wasn’t sure why he noticed this so immediately but it didn’t really matter. None of it did.

“I said…” she began again with some frustration “are you feeling better?”

Soren’s attention quickly returned to her as he attempted to squeak out an affirmation. The giantess gave a slight smile and nod.

“Good. Have you thought about our last conversation any?”

“I-I uhh, I have, a good bit actually”

She seemed pleased. Her hand lowered for a second but then bobbed back up, renewing the nausea in Soren’s stomach. He tried to brace himself against the surface of her skin but it seemed pointless.

“Excellent. And? Will you tell me?”

“I…” Soren stopped. For just a second he thought about breaking. He thought about surrendering everything he had ever known. Then, as more of the early morning light flooded in through the boughs of the interwoven canopy of trees he remembered the words of Father Saul. He couldn’t remember precisely what they were, but he knew that he would be damned for giving up the others.

“Greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for another”

“What was that?”

“Sorry, nothing” Soren quickly replied. The giantess’ eyes narrowed as she analyzed her captive. Her jaws moved side to side as she considered what to do.

“I’ll take that as a no then?”

“Yes”

“Yes? As in you’ll tell me?”

“No!”

She threw her head back and let out a long angry groan. As it reverberated through the air Soren found himself curling up into a ball of terror. His limbs shook with anticipation for his demise. Was this it? Would he finally become a martyr as he had foreseen? When she finally turned back to him her expression was odd. Somewhere between nervous and angry.

“What is your name?”

“E-e-enoch”

“EEEE NOCK?” she repeated, enunciating each syllable with a bit too much vigor. She seemed to repeat it to herself quietly a few more times before finally continuing, “Well Enoch, I assume you heard a good bit about me down there last night?”

“I did”

“Did they tell you my name?”

“It was...uhh.”

“Tryn…” she grumbled, apparently hurt that he could not remember. “My name is Tryn”

“Right, sorry...err Tryn”

Then a silence followed. It was a long, crippling silence that betrayed little about either of them. Tryn starred with unfaltering rigidity whilst Soren rocked back and forth, repeating an invented prayer to himself.

“Why do you do that?”

“D-d-do what?”

“Talk to yourself.”

Soren was a bit shocked. He didn’t expect her to notice, let alone care. For a moment he considered making something up, but he knew it would have been a grievous sin to deny his devotion.

“I was praying”

“Praying?” she responded immediately. “I’ve heard that word before. Learned it a long time ago. Never really learned what it meant…” Both of her eyes drooped as she brought her hand a bit closer.

“I can...I can show you” Enoch stuttered back with a little hope in his voice. Tryn just shook her head and cleared her throat.

“Hmmm...no, you know what I want you to tell me”

Soren’s face mutated back into a mask of despair. He figured as much

“But, I understand you must think of me as monster. They ALL do sometimes, but I’m not… I promise. Now I know you probably won’t believe me but I think we can make a trade.”

“Wh-what?

“Ok maybe not a direct trade, i guess what I’m getting at is...well is there anything you want? To make things a little less terrible?”

“Is this a bribe?”

Her face shrank. She gave him a scowl that dispersed her anger through the atmosphere. Soren reeled back, fearful that her wrath would soon be upon him.

“NO!” she roared. “I’m just...just…” slowly her demeanor phased back to a more docile state. “Do you fuckin’ want something or not?”

Soren thought for a moment, though he knew exactly what he would ask for. He wanted her to wait for a moment, to make it seem like a tough choice despite the fact that he had it picked out long ago.

“I want…”

“yes?”

“I want to write...things to write with that is…”

Tryn bit her lip, lowered her hand and looked out toward the hollow town in the distance.

“I think I can manage that…”

 

Gravel churned against the moss coated cement. A horrible, wet scraping noise escaped the stony teeth as they wore away bits of plaster and specks of lime. Beneath it all was another bony hand still clutching a frayed canvas rucksack. The man reached down and swatted the skeletal appendage away with the back of his forearm before greedily tearing the pack open. Like the mandibles of a hungry mantis, the frail man’s hands kneaded through the stale interior. He sorted through the contents, flinging what he wanted into one pile and what he didn’t into another.

“Hmm, what’s this? Hey, I got another one!” He cheered with some meager excitement as he withdrew a dented can of cat food from the bag. “you see this? Haha, today may just be my lucky day. Now let’s see… put that there for me. Don’t want nobody taking that now…”

Whilst the hunger crazed man continued to forage, muttering hoarsely to himself, Soren lingered nearby leaning against a shattered arch with his leg propped up on a tangled piece of rebar.

“I said you seen this?” The man cried back to Soren.

“Yeah, yeah...I heard you. Just, keep it down a bit would you Tom?”

But the poor man couldn’t help himself. His joy for just a bit more of food was unfettered, and Soren believed it would be wrong to deprive him of it. Besides, he had his own little joy to focus on. Tryn had followed through on her promise, and that very morning, delivered him to the remains of a bookstore in which he found plenty of paper, pens, and the like. Now, hours later, he lingered a few blocks away, whilst the others she brought to the ruined town foraged for what supplies they could. Soren learned that this was one of their usual chores. One that they gladly would volunteer for, as it meant freedom from their musty prison.

Soren let out another sigh as he looked up at the long grey sky overhead. The encroaching clouds meant that rain was near. He could feel it in the fragile winds brushing up against him. When he had last been in the town it was cold and the air was thick with a dusty haze that made him wheeze. Now, it was clear, almost refreshing, but then again perhaps he was simply relieved to have escaped the musk of the pit. Steadily, he propped one of his new notebooks on his thigh and produced a red pen. As he put the point onto the first line the words that were clogging his mind suddenly poured forth like an oceanic wave.

Dear Erin,

I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am to finally be writing you again. These last few days have been both torturous and exhilarating. I know it has been a while but as you might imagine my situation is rather unprecedented. The giantess (her name being Tryn, though it frightens me to say it) has treated me with unexpected kindness, though I fear it will not last. She demands to know the location of the Legion camp, no doubt for nefarious purposes. I realize that this is indeed another test of my faith. Just as Job was tempted to sin I shall endure this woman’s (if I can even call her that) coaxing. That being said I cannot ignore the little things she offers. Gifts such as this paper and this pen will not be turned away but I take them only out of my love for you. Do not fret, I shall not succumb to her bribery, no matter how hard she tries.

My fellow prisoners are a welcome break from her scrutiny. Yet even they wear on me at times. For one they are from the hills, not one of the camps, and thus I know them to be coarse and duplicitous. Though some are friendly, others make me intensely nervous, as their habits and mannerisms are quite alien to me. Many are also jealous of Tryn’s favor towards me, and even now I feel their eyes looking on with disdain. Some mock me for my position and my faith, calling me things like “uniform”, “knee”, and “sky-talker”. Nevertheless I cannot help but pity them, for in many ways they are simply misguided. Perhaps from being abused and imprisoned for so long. I hope that with time I can show them the light.

There is one though that reminds me a bit of you. Her name is Kate, and, aside from her withered appearance, is similar to you in almost every respect, right down to the way she snorts when she laughs. Oddly enough, there is a good bit of laughter amongst them. Although it is clear that they are sullen and anxious, they seem to joke with one another often. Perhaps to allay their own suffering or maybe out of some madness from being trapped for so long.

Even Tryn is not immune to this sadness. Despite the fact that she is indeed in complete control she has a strange temperament about her. When she speaks to us or barks orders she is stern or playful, but when she is left alone with her thoughts in silence, she often stares off into the distance with a solemn look on her face. I believe she knows the horridness of what she does and fears the bottomless pit that will be her fate. I hope that, next time she tries to pique my interests, I can lead her into a conversation about our savior, but I can tell now that it will be a great challenge. Sometimes, when I am alone (which is seldom these days) I close my eyes and think about all the opportunities I have been given. All the blessings and the trials are leading me to a greater purpose, I just hope that I will realize it soon. My greatest wish though, is to see you again or perhaps, at the very least, have my letters delivered to you. Unfortunately I know that is impossible now.

As always I am your brother,

Enoch

Soren finished his message with a flick of his wrist. The writing was clear and precise, worthy of a calligrapher’s praise. The red ink bled through the page and stained the one behind it, invoking visions of blood. He quickly turned away from his work and closed his eyes. Everything became loud, ringing, pounding, crying. The veins ensnaring his skull seemed to tighten and every thought he had took him back to that gruesome field that he lay upon almost a week earlier. Enormous eyes peering down at him, the feeling of hot breath permeating his skin and clothes. He doubled over as if to vomit, but there was so little in his stomach that he only gagged. When he looked back up he saw the eyes were not part of his tortured hallucination, but were very much real.

“What now?” Tryn groaned with defeat. Soren was so shaken by his visions that he did not even notice her approach. She had slid down from her perch on the mountainside and now huddled over a block of the ruin, peering down at her possessions.

“Tryn, Tryn! I have it, I found another!” Thomas cried, holding a tarnished chrome bumper above his head. His thin, shaky limbs barely kept it aloft. If it weren’t for his excitement, the piece of metal would have easily collapsed on the poor man. Tryn’s eyes darted over to Thomas diminutive form, lighting up for a passing second.

“Ahh excellent, thank you Tom, you’ll be rewarded tonight…”

Tryn’s words were soft but discomforting. They flew off her tongue like a horde of ants pouring from their earthen mound. She let her hand slip between two wrecked apartment buildings before finally stopping just over Thomas. Two fingers reached down and plucked the car component up from Tom’s grasp. She quickly stowed it away in her bag before turning her attention back to Soren, who continued to stave off the last of his waking nightmares.

“What will it be? What will it be Tryn?” Tom giddily yelled up at her, waving his arms around in an uncoordinated spiral of movement. Tryn’s face scrunched up as she shot a heinous glare in Tom’s direction.

“Run off bug! Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Tom’s face immediately sank and, before his gigantic master could say anything more, he scurried back into the dilapidated parking garage from whence he came.

“Now then…” Tryn hissed as she returned to Soren. “As I was saying, what’s wrong with you now? Did you hurt yourself?” Her final few words had some hints of sympathy buried within them. Soren knew this right away, and, feigning some blow to the temple, responded:

“I...its nothing really just, hit my head is all…”

Tryn’s eyes narrowed. With a squint, she began searching Soren’s tiny body for signs of injury, and, having found none, leaned back and let out a sigh.

“Right, right. And now I’m to hear about how you suddenly can’t remember anything over the last few days, is that it?”

“No, no I just…”

“Or is that you would further convince me that you little things are just far too fragile to be doing work?”

“No, Tryn it isn’t that but…”

She rolled her eyes and, in a sudden flash of movement, slammed her hand down sideways just behind Soren. He immediately fell onto his side, this time feeling very real physical pain shoot through him as a pair of jagged rocks caught his abdomen. Soren let out a cry composed of both fear and agony. Tryn saw this and was convinced. Again she groaned, slowly letting her hand turn until it lay on the ground with her palm up at a slight angle.

“Come now get on.”

Soren hesitated. He felt a storm brewing, and not just the literal one which already spread its darkness over them. For a time he avoided climbing up onto Tryn’s hand and kept his gaze toward the ground. Finally, after a few more awkward moments of stillness he heard Tryn grinding her teeth. When he looked up he saw that she now wore another grimace of disappointment.

“You’re gonna make this difficult aren’t you?”

“No, I’m sorry, I’ll...please don’t-”

“Oh just get on already.”

Soren finally complied. As he attempted to hoist himself up onto the surface of her palm, Tryn cocked her head to one side to address the rest of her underlings.

“Tom, you too now…” she then turned toward the South side of town. “Vic! Get your group together by the Square, same goes for you Nate, and if any of you aren’t there, well...you know what to expect…”

Soren nearly lost his grip when he heard her. Nevertheless, by the time he finally heaved himself up onto her hand his muscles gave out. For a moment he could not move, could not blink, and he could hardly breath. Tryn, upon noticing her companion’s successful ascent, shot him a quick smile which went unnoticed. Not long afterward Tom came scuttling out of the ruin, dragging two black garbage bags behind him. He tossed both onto Tryn’s palm before effortlessly climbing up next to Soren. Then, just like that, they were lifted up into the air.

Tryn dusted off her knees as she rose, humming an absent tune.

“You know I really don’t want us to be enemies Eee-nock, but for some reason that’s all you seem to want. Do you want that, to be enemies?”

“No…” Soren tentatively muttered.

“No, I didn’t think so. But if you keep defying me that’s exactly what we will be. Now when we get back I want to talk.”

Soren’s heart sank. There was so much that he wished to ask but he could not stomach the idea of uttering a single word. Next to him Thomas had already begun gleefully digging through his captured treasures, chirping as he went.

“Oooh, got to talk. Got to talk! That can’t be good lad. Nope, can’t be good at all…”

Night was falling but the world was still wide awake. Birds funneled through the lofty pines into the fern covered underbrush. Flocks of wayward deer scampered amongst the fallen branches half-buried in the moss. The once gentle rain had turned to into torrential downpour. Enormous drops of water drenched the glossy fronds and slicked cleanly off the innumerable needles on the far reaching cedars. From his position beneath the shale outcropping, Soren sat huddled against one of the fabrics left on the ground. It provided him with plenty of warmth but he couldn’t help feeling trapped by it. Tryn waited nearby, likewise hunkering beneath her makeshift roof. To any normal human, the streams of runoff bleeding through the cracks would have been powerful waterfalls, but to Tryn they were pestersome trickles cascading down onto her head. She leaned against the rocky face of the mountain, trying her best to contain her irritation. It wasn’t the rain that got her down though. No, by that point she had become fairly accustomed to the weather.

“So that’s it then huh? Not gonna tell me anything?”

Soren looked up from his position. He knew that she would never be able to hear him from this distance, especially with the storm and all. He looked away and tried his best to ignore her. It didn’t help much though, as seconds later, he felt the earth shift. When he looked back over his shoulder, her face hung directly over him.

“Have I not been fair?” She droned. Soren let out a little squeal before falling onto his back with both arms raised. “No, I’ve been more than fair. So now I’m going to have to hurt you.” Tryn’s hand began its slow approach to Soren’s body but before it even was halfway there Soren cried out:

“Wait! Wait no! Hold on just a second!”

Tryn stopped. Her left eyebrow arched up, casting her inquisitiveness in Soren’s direction. Whilst he tried to collect both his breath and his words, Soren anxiously scuttled backward until his back pressed against another rain-slicked boulder.

“Yes?” Tryn asked.

“Ok, I just...I want to know a few things first. I want know why you attacked us in that field!”

“Field?” she repeated. She turned away for a moment, her face buried in thought. “Oh riiight, you were there? Ugh, I’m still pretty mad about all that. Look all you need to know is that those little people you were hurting belonged to me! They lived in my land. Sure they were trying to escape but it doesn’t give you the right to punish them! They are...were mine.”

Soren inched back a bit. Tryn noticed his renewed ambivalence and suddenly lashed out with her hand. Two fingers clamped down on either side of him, forcing the air from his chest and the color from his skin. Though she held him for but a few seconds, the force and shock left him mute for another minute or so. She deposited him in her hand and once again leaned back up against the mountainside.

“I guess it didn’t occur to me until I saw you that I could find some replacements in your territory. Which, granted, should be mine anyways.”

“So..so..” Soren went on, still reeling from his apprehending. “So you just want...more slaves? That’s it?”

Tryn regarded him with suspicion for a second. Soren didn’t understand why, but he felt uncomfortable nonetheless.

“Slaves...I don’t know if I would call them that. Then again I don’t have much else to call them. They just...you just belong to me now.”

“Not slaves?”

“Hmph, slaves would imply they do a lot of work. What you all did today is one of the more strenuous tasks I have you perform. So, yeah I don’t think of you as slaves.”

“Oh...o-o-ok”

Tryn stifled a short laugh which quickly faded back to her usual somberness. Soren didn’t know what to make of her. She was made up of too much contradiction. Whatever she felt she would not express, especially not to him.

“You are confused aren’t you? Well, just know this: I will kill you, I don’t want to but I will. Not everyone in my possession has a purpose, you do. If that purpose isn’t fulfilled then why should I keep you?”

In that moment Soren knew. He could not explain how, or what it was that betrayed her words, but he knew that what she said wasn’t entirely true. There were certain certainties though. Soren knew, perhaps from the glint in her eyes, that she would kill him. Likewise he knew she did have something in mind for him, but he knew that true purpose was not yet clear. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t clear to her yet either.

“So, Enock, little bear. Tell me, can you swim?”

 

What was it to experience the cold? It’s selfish touch greedily steals away all warmth and comfort one might have. Or so Soren thought. Between the frigid waters draining away his vigor and the silt seeping up beneath his toes, Soren felt as though the cold earth was trying to swallow him. He would have allowed it too, if it weren’t for enormous pair of eyes watching him with fierce anticipation. Tryn lay adjacent to the lake, her head propped up by her arms.

“Why am I here exactly?” Soren suddenly yelled up to the giantess.

Tryn let her head slump for a bit. As the seconds waned she finally brought her chin up into her palm. Both of her gigantic pupils seemed eager to fixate on his diminutive form, but something staved her off. Each tugging implication that tried to sort out the vast array of swirling thoughts hidden in her skull seemed to mold her face into ever-changing expressions.

“You were filthy…” Tryn replied. Each word echoed off the cavernous walls, causing the water around the poor man to surge and ripple. “Besides” she went on, “we needed to talk privately. Nothing is private when those other little fleas are around. They hear everything…”

“W-why?”

A knot formed in Soren’s stomach. It kneaded against the bloody walls of his abdomen as he waited his captress’ response. Was this it? Was this his untimely end? No. Though he knew it was on the horizon he sensed she would make a point of making it public. Something about sending a message.

“Because…you bother me little bear.” Tryn replied. The amusement was finally gone from her voice. Instead she seemed mildly distraught, as though the sadness that lay over her when she with her thoughts finally broke through to the surface.

“I bother you?” Soren replied. He wasn’t surprised, she had made it quite clear many time before how annoyed she was with his disobedience. Then, as he continued to watch her he felt that she meant something completely different. The slight bobbing of her head, the way she seemed to chew the back of her bottom lip, belied some secret anxiety which she was tired of hiding.

“Yes well…I…hmph…” she paused again. Soren didn’t know what to say. All of a sudden he was incredibly homesick, but not for the camp. He wanted to go back to his real home. He eventually shook such thoughts from his head, he knew that such a place didn’t exist anymore.

“I…I what?”

Another brief scowl crossed her face. She hated this vulnerability. Even just those past few moments were too much to give him. Despite Tryn’s sense of weakness, Soren felt only confusion and her flash of anger didn’t help.

“Hush now. This is hard for me, and you will speak when I want you too!”

The thunder of her voice shook some soil loose from the rock face just on the other side of the lake. Some stones tumbled into the wake, distracting Soren briefly with their crescendo of splashing.

“Look it's…just…you’re weird. I don’t get it. You must be sick in the head, the others think so too.”

Such revelation stung Soren’s pride. He recognized the gap of differences between him and his fellow prisoners but he never took a second to consider their perspective. Soren found their mannerisms and modes of speaking quite backwards, it made sense they’d feel the same way about him.

“Wha-“

Tryn’s glare stopped him. For a second Soren retreated back within himself, paying attention only to the sand between his submerged toes and the few traces of aquatic vines that grazed his legs. He shuddered.

“As I was saying…” Tryn enunciated with some hostility as she reestablished her centrality. “You are perfectly willing to kill your own kind. Which I find odd considering the fact that I thought all you little people liked to try and get along. Then you come out looking for me in the woods. Don’t think I didn’t catch that by the way. Then, after all that you decide you’d rather die than give up the others because of what some….what was it? God? Some god says?”

Each word grew softer as she spoke, as if Tryn herself was still puzzled by their arrangement. Soren began step out of the water. At this point the cold liquid only served to make him feel smaller and filthier. Tryn took notice of her small companions approach, and bowed her head down till her eyes lay fixed on his tiny form.

Amid shivers from both the chill from the air and from Tryn’s gaze, Soren tried to piece together a response that might satisfy all her inquiries.

“Well?” Tryn finally concluded, lilting her voice with expectation.

“A…a shepherd must defend his flock.”

“Ugghhhh!” Tryn groaned feverishly with a roll of her eyes. The earth rocked, sending Soren face first onto the sandy shore, dusting him with coarse grains of silicate once more. When he finally stood back up he spat bits of sand out of his mouth.

“And another thing, you say strange stuff like that…Do you really think there’s some big…thing in the sky that created everything and is watching you right now?”

Soren began to retreat back to the water, shaking the grime from his boxers as he did. Once he reached the water he began to splash water onto himself to wash away the new coat of dirt.

“I guess. I mean, of course I do. God chose me for this task.”

“WHAT TASK?” Tryn finally cried out with exasperation. The deafening clamor briefly stopped Soren’s heart. “You think you’re on some mission? That you need to challenge me? You write little letters that never get sent, I don’t…I don’t get you at all. What is this some kind of ruse? Are you spying on me for them?”

“Them?” Soren finally squeaked out. He had failed in his attempt to hide his immediate terror.

“Yes your little green army…thing! Whatever you call it!”

“The Legion?”

“Yeah sure…”

“No…I came out here, they don’t even know that I’m…”

Her eyes narrowed. The two waited in absolute silence for nearly a minute before Tryn broke the awkward stagnation. Her titanic hand shot out from beneath, clipping two ancient oaks and knocking them to the ground as it moved toward the water. Soren shut his eyes and looked away, too senseless to consider any other defensive action. Tryn’s enormous fingers dipped down into the black current, sweeping beneath and around her tiny companion. Soren opened his eyes a few millimeters, just in time to see the water surge around him. Then there way chaos. Something upset his balance and sent him face-first into the water. He struggled, pushing up against the fluid above him, but he could not escape it! It was as though it were moving upward just as he was. Eventually, the water drained away around him, leaving him gasping for air on a moist, solid surface.

“Then why are you here? Tell me the truth, I’m tired of playing with you.”

Soren’s ears rang and his lungs moved so quickly that they hurt. When he rolled over he saw the placid pale face of his captress hanging over him in a grim mask of judgment. Both eyes sliced through his skin to peel away the raw muscle beneath. His joints could not function, he was powerless. For a moment he believed he had been liquefied, and now sat as a puddle on the palm of her hand.

“I’m…just…I don’t know. I thought I could do…something!”

“WHAT?”

“I don’t know” Soren cried back. Then came the sobbing. The ceaseless frenzied spray of emotion that made him crumple up into ball like the husk of a dead insect. That’s all he was anyway, an insect.

“I…Father Saul, he said I was special, that I was part of God’s plan, that’d he…he’d protect me!”

“What? Ughhh” Tryn’s expression dropped. Her words became softer, almost menacing. “There is no man in the sky. We…my people…they are this world’s gods now. If ever there was one before us he or she or IT is gone now. I mean…how can you still believe after everything’s that’s happened?”

“I just…I have to.” Soren choked back. The tears stopped rolling down his face. He rocked back and forth for a moment before sitting back up, wiping the grief from his face with the back of his hand. Tryn scrutinized him silently for a second.

“Why did you come to me?”

Soren sat musing. Truth be told he wasn’t entirely sure. Was it some faint hope, some wish to die? Did he really believe Father Saul’s words or was this all just a way to finally break his faith? Whatever the case may have been Soren was not conscious of it and thus could not give an honest answer. Eventually he shrugged, stifled a hysteric laugh and replied:

“I don’t know. I don’t…”

“Alright” Tryn interrupted.

“Alright?”

“Yes, alright. I believe you…”

Soren was stupefied. He rubbed his neck and tried not to look up at her. Something about that face still crippled his speech.

“Really?” he droned back.

“Yes, really. You are weird, but you’re not special like I thought. You’re just…confused. Am I right?”

“I’m not tha-“

“Of course you are.” She spat back quickly. Something else bothered her now. It wasn’t just his disobedience or the strange beliefs that bothered her this time. Something he did or said was snagged in her cortex. He felt that it would be best not to inquire.

“You’re small and confused and pathetic, just like the rest of your kind.”

Despite her harsh words they were said with a strange measure of sympathy. They did not have the usual spite or vindictiveness that usually carried through her speech. If anything she sounded relieved.

“Besides…” she began again “it will make it that much easier to break you…”

Soren froze. He didn’t dare look into those silvery eyes. He knew things were going to get a lot worse before they got better. Even as Tryn pushed herself off the earth and began to stand he sensed the torment to come.

Sure enough as she rose she began to stretch her limbs in the brisk twilight. All the while she kept Soren close; closer than she had before. Her hand nearly lay up against her chest. When she finally looked back down to him she wore a content smile.

“Oh come now little bear...don’t look so sullen”

Night had set in upon them like a predator seeking to engulf its hapless prey. The makeshift shelter that Tryn had erected hung overhead in the grayed dusklight as an uneasy but awe-inspiring canopy. It was a cathedral ceiling hanging overhead at impossible heights with impossible purpose. Around Soren the others had gathered, milling about in their usual ways. Some of the children huddled by the wreck of an old bus that Tryn kept near the canyon’s entrance. Thomas knelt next to Soren, his hands clasped tightly together as he rocked back and forth.

“Hmmm, not as much as last time Vic?” Tryn mused as she picked through the various bits of debris sprawled out in front of the lanky man. Victor stared up at her. Gone were the days that he’d avoid eye contact with the giantess. They had an agreement, albeit a shaky one. Neither could really stand the other socially, but they were both willing to make compromises. That’s what happens when strong personalities clash.

“No…” he stated blandly in reply. Soren watched with some adversity. He didn’t like being scrutinized by Tryn but for some reason seeing others face her was almost as bad. Not far off to his right Claire shifting from one foot to the other with half her fingers in her mouth. Soren  had just been introduced to her a few hours prior and Victor was very clear that he was not to come near her. Apparently they had some kind of fling going. It was evident. If Tryn’s voice saturated itself with anymore disdain Soren was convinced the poor little blonde would swallow her arm.

“Why’s that now? You used to be one of my best collectors Little Vic.” Tryn cooed. Despite the softness of her voice the poison in her eyes was enough to kill all those assembled.

Victor replied without hesitation. “I’m getting old, can’t get around quite like I used to…”

Tryn was rather displeased. Rather than lose herself in front of the others however she reigned back in her fury. Her eyes darted from the crowd of other humans waiting nervously off to the side before returning to the single man in front of her. She was not necessarily interested in spreading fear and dissension amongst her captives. Instead she favored consistency. She felt the need to punish Victor, though she knew it would do not good for the others to see as he would surely defy her nonetheless.

“You really are wearing my patience thin Vic...but I’m not gonna do anything, not in front of them at least…” Tryn’s voice trailed off as she peered back over to the others. They all shuddered in the grip  of her cold gaze.  “After all, that’s what you want. You always play the team player when I’m not around but will not hesitate to defy me in the most....trivial ways.” Tryn sat back up throwing her dark hair over her shoulder. She began to drum her fingers on her calf as she continued to drill into the ever defiant little human. “So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We will pick this conversation up later…”

Suddenly Tryn hand shot out, snapping down behind Victor with a tremendous thud. The others lost sight of him and could do nothing but watch as Tryn brought her other hand down and plucked Vic up between her thumb and forefinger. He made no noise as he was hoisted upward, or, if he did, the others couldn't hear it over their own exclamations of surprise. Claire clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle a horrified cry. Soren’s eyes grew wide, the gasps of the children were quickly hushed by those closest to them, and Thomas cackled with an odd sense of delight. A moment later Victor dangled aloft in parallel with Tryn’s shoulders. With her other hand she reached for the string hanging around her neck. Soren realized he never noticed it before. Had she always been wearing it? Drawing up from the loop was a small teardrop shaped pendant at least ten feet tall and six feet in diameter. With a few twists of her finger the bottom portion unscrewed itself, revealing a small cavity inside. Tryn carelessly placed Victor inside before fastening it closed again. With the fixture closed Tryn lowered it back down slowly till it rested against her body once more, disappearing from sight just between her breasts.

“What the hell was that…” Soren found himself saying aloud. Some others shots him dirty looks but most ignored him. Only Thomas took upon himself to answer the newcomer’s question.

“Hehe! Why, that’s the box my boy! Where only th’wicked go, ahaha! When someone’s causin trouble or keeps trying to escape she locks him away up there for a time! Only been once me’self. Wadn’t all that bad…”

Soren was still too perplexed to speak. His sweaty palms would not be wiped clean on his pants. It was only the tremor of confusion and doubt that kept him sated. Still, nothing really prepared him for what he had just witnessed. It was… well what was it? Soren couldn’t tell. It wasn’t shocking, hell it was hardly surprising. Yet something about the gesture stirred his stomach the wrong way.

“Next!” Tryn called out with more chipperness that before. “Tom why not you?”

“HAHA!” Thomas suddenly cheered. He lept from the ground like a savage dog and bounded back up toward the plot in front the cross-legged titaness. All the while Soren watched with a lump in his throat. Claire continued to stifle a few savage screams and someone else began to speak behind him. Soren registered very little of his surroundings though, as he was completely fixated on the gigantic enigma before him.

“Hmm, per usual you’ve found me much of what I’ve asked for...very good”

Soren thought back to the time Solomon commanded the devil’s to build his temple and wondered if they were like this. These immense, but ultimately human, beings that could stack stones with ease but gave no hindrance to the will of common men. How could it have been that way? Was all that separated this monstrosity from the regular mortals just a few hundred feet of height and girth? Now was a momentary scenery of judgement that brought only the trials of antiquity to mind. Great lumbering beasts and primordial things amassing in the celestial muck that would become the world. God’s hand dividing the light and dark. Soren collapsed in on himself, until he found the earth touching his shins once more.

“Knee’s takin’ a knee again-” joked another nearby stranger. Soren ignored them further, as he traced the numbers and the words on the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

“Tom stay still now!” Tryn suddenly spat. Tom sheepishly ceased his incessant tumbling and froze in place. As she continued picking through the debris Tryn gave a half-hearted smile before turning to her homemade satchel. “Alright I promised you a reward...hmm let’s see. Ah! Here it is”

From out her pack Tryn produced a rectangular green crate. Though only the size of her fingernail, to a human it would have been a rather sizable box. Soren recognized it as an old ammo crate, though what it contained he could not tell. After placing the container in front of her eager servant Tryn’s hand withdrew, allowing Thomas to speed forward and fling the chest open.

“Only take two now, and don’t think I can’t tell when you sneak an extra one away beneath your shirt! I know you well enough you little bug.”

Thomas took little heed of her woods, instead joyously collecting his prizes before running back toward the others. Tryn removed the crate and waited. As Thomas drew closer Soren saw that he returned with a large bottle of cough syrup in one hand and a handle of Aristocrat in the other. The lunatic’s joy was insurmountable as he paraded around with his winnings cackling and humming petty tunes, completely unresponsive to the bitterness surrounding him. Soren grew disgusted but felt no twinge of conceit seize hold.

“Little Bear!” Tryn suddenly called out. The others made no motion to respond to the giantess’ outburst. “Little Bear?” She repeated. Still Soren did not register the comment. Instead he wasted time gawking at things he had already been witness too, perhaps too tormented by the thought of what may happen next. “ENOCH!” She suddenly roared. The harsh vibration in the air snapped Soren back into reality. Even Thomas grew silent. A subtle nudge from Kate, who had suddenly appeared behind him, urged him to his feet. Then, his eyes rolled up to meet the antagonizing stare of Tryn whose patience was at an ultimate end.

“Come here…” she grumbled. Soren shuffled forward without a second thought. The few dozen yards between the crowd and the plain of arbitration felt like miles slogging across an arid desert. Finally, once in position, Tryn’s grim facade faded to something more akin to regret.

“You have gathered...nothing? Is that correct?”

“I…” Soren paused. He hadn’t even thought to collect, he didn’t know he was…

“No?”

“I have not…”

“Hmph, shame”

And suddenly there was shame. Above all else, amidst the fear, melancholy, confusion, and curiosity, Soren felt ashamed. It was a dusty contrition, mouldering over the sharper edges of his awareness. All zeal was lost, like another lamb to the slaughter he had come. And forward and forward he went. For out of all that he knew and all that we wished he had known there was a solitary disgust that festered inside his gut. At that moment he felt completely cut off from his old life and recognized that the path ahead was wrought with the debris of a thousand shattered souls that opted to become toys before corpses.

 

All was grey and saturated with the musk of evening. A heavy, humid wind came out from the West and settled itself along the cusp of the mountains before finally snaking its way into Tryn’s sizable hovel. Combined with the heat radiating from her massive form, it gave the shelter an odd warmth that bred mostly discomfort. A few hours earlier Soren had watched as the others slogged back toward the pit, all sullen and mutated with fits of anguish. Claire was nearly hysterical, but some of the other women had managed to calm her just enough to allow her legs to function for the walk back. She must have really cared for Victor, or so Soren thought. It was rare to see such emotion those days, and it really began to weigh on his mind. Well, for a time at least, at the moment he had been plagued by something else.

The sun’s last few rays of light tried climbing up over the crests of the mountains but came only in dim waves. In the shadow of Tryn’s crudely constructed canopy, Soren sat grinding his teeth, trying his best not to look at the twittering array of lashes directly behind him. Looming over him was Tryn’s head, which lay lazily on the unyielding bedrock.

“What do you think I should do with you?”

Soren didn’t feel like answering. He knew it wouldn’t be enough. Instead he continued to drag his right toe through the clay on the ground, tracing an ever deepening circle. Every so often he would flinch as another puff of hot air washed past him. Tryn’s breaths were quick, clearly betraying the calm demeanor she attempted to pass off as her true temperament. What Soren couldn’t tell was if she was angry, nervous, or something else entirely.

“Do not ignore me any longer Little Bear, I asked you a question…” she growled

Angry it was then. Soren circled back around to face her, but he refused to look into her massive eyes. The glare she gave was dark and terrible, like a shadow swallowing the last few specks of daylight on the cascades.

“I’m sorry, I...I don’t know. Just, stop please, let me go home. I don’t belong here!” Soren managed to choke out in a half-sobbing slew of speech. Tryn’s eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t believe in the sincerity of his dismay. The sharp lines of her irises seemed glossed over by an irreconcilable fury. Yet, for all the anger pent up inside her chest she seemed relatively relaxed. With one hand she twirled a strand of dark hair before finally letting it fall across her face.

“Everyone belongs here Enoch.” she eventually began. “Its just a matter of how long you belong.”

“I...I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine, I get that you’re still adjusting and all, but you have a very specific job. Specific, but not exclusive. I have been more than generous to you Enoch, and I can understand not wanting to give up others like you. That is...for the most part, excusable. But slacking off with your regular duties entirely. That’s unforgivable.”

Soren’s throat clogged. What was it that would not let air escape his lungs? Was it some foreign refuse, some innate reaction, or was his body just trying to save him from the pain that was to come. He fell backwards till his body rested on the ground and his eyes stared up to the ceiling far above.

“Enoch, LOOK AT ME!” Tryn roared. Her fist pounded into the ground, sending out a shockwave that suddenly returned Soren’s breath. A slight scream escaped the distant pit and Soren shot back up to a sitting position.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know!”

“Just because you didn’t know, doesn’t mean you are innocent…”

With that Tryn lifted her head and slid her left arm back so that it propped up her upper body. Soren followed her shoulders with his eyes, finally biting his lip as she reared up overhead. The mounting darkness clouded his vision and his thoughts as a multitude of evening crickets began their summer aria.

“Wh-wh-why do you hate us so much?” Soren stuttered back meekly. Tryn’s eyes narrowed once again as the sneer melted from her face.

“What?”

“Why do you hate us so much? Where did all this awful, sadistic hatred come from? Why here? Why us? Why-” but Tryn interrupted his sniveling.

“Stop! Stop your sobbing! I don’t hate-”

“I just...don’t understand. Please, I just wanted to-”

“ENOCH! Shut the fuck up!” Tryn roared back. What malignant forbearance she held before had been replaced with exhaustion. It was a trait that set her apart from many other giants. For some reason the groveling that most of her kind so greedily sought was far more an annoyance to Tryn than a pleasure.

“I don’t hate you. Not yet at least, ok? I am just trying to a make a place for myself here. You know what the others of my kind are like, you have to be tough if you want to survive. I’ve done well here, but I can’t always do it alone. That’s why I need you all, ok?”

“I...I don’t…”

“Understand? I know, and you never will, none of you little things will ever understand. Your brains must not function the way ours do, so just drop it and accept the reality of it all”

Soren suddenly felt a engrossed in some synthetic sensory overload. Nothing made any sense, as each perceivable ray of light and tick of sound seemed to scramble the circuits of his brain. Another wave of air washed over him, and with it much of Tryn’s immediate anger escaped her body. The long sigh ended with a slight hum as the giantess continued to muse over her options.

“Well something must be done…” she stated nonchalantly. Soren didn’t quite understand what she meant and began to panic. Though he knew she watched him keenly, he started a futile shuffle toward a nearby ledge hoping against hope that he might somehow escape her gaze. He made it only about ten feet when he heard her sinister snicker. Seconds later, her hand slammed down in front of him, cracking the earth and sending a shockwave that rattled his skeleton. He froze, eyes shut and breath seized. Only when he finally blinked through the settling dust could he make out the tremendous looming wall that now impeded his progress.

“Really?” Tryn said. “You think you can get away like that?”

“I-I-I-” Soren managed to stutter back. Tryn gave another short chuckle before lifting her hand and clearing a path for poor Soren.

“Go ahead, run. Hide away. You’ll never make it out there without me.”

Soren paused and began to tentatively turn about to face his colossal captor. As her enormous shadowed face panned into his field of view a new dreadful thought crept into the back of his stress laden mind. Perhaps she wasn’t misguided. Perhaps she wasn’t just evil. Perhaps this was simply the natural affectation of these giants. Maybe nothing human can be used to reason with them. Maybe they are truly just creatures of impulse. That scared Soren more than anything else. To be faced with a being so far removed from the black and white morality of human understanding was somehow more upsetting than any sin he had witnessed prior.

“Hmmm-” Tryn droned again, “Now I must punish you. I’d throw you in the box but, well its occupied at the moment.” she cooed as she gave a slight tug on the string hanging around her neck. “No, I think we’ll start with something more physical. You’re a physical person yes?” She leaned in, her eyes narrow and curious. The more she scrutinized his diminutive, shattered little body the more self-conscious he became. “Hmm, perhaps not, you’re a very thoughtful person. You and your...god.” With one hand she brushed aside a few stray strands of ebony hair whilst a horrible smile stretched out across her face. It wasn’t evil or malicious however, it was a regular grin spurred on by enthusiasm. How grotesquely commonplace this manner of intimidation was to her. It wasn’t even really a form of coercion to Tryn, only a means of communicating. Soren instinctively shuffled back just as he saw her hand began its slow approach toward him.

“No...no I can do...no!” he cried out.

“Hold still now, this will not be nearly as bad if you just stay still.”

“No, I’m...no what are you going to…”

“Just give me your arm. That’s all…”

“No! Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

Tryn’s face flashed a frustrated glare, not unlike the look of resentment given by some conventional disciplinarian. “Enoch, here NOW, otherwise it’ll be a whole lot worse for you…” Her fingers extended with unnatural speed, pinning Soren’s torso and digging into the earth adjacent to him. Tryn’s thumb and forefinger finally managed to grasp Soren’s right arm, enveloping him in a perdurable vice of pain.

“Now Little Bear, I want you to remember this ok? Hopefully so I don’t have to do something like this again. Got it?”

But Soren could only scream. Tears and hysteric wailing were the only reactions he could give. It was truly a pitiful sight and Tryn knew it. Were it any other giant they might have let the madness gone on for much longer than necessary, just to drink in the suffering. Tryn felt something else entirely. It wasn’t quite empathy but something a little more primal. Maybe just the gaunt phantom of memory creeping up on her. Whatever the case may have been she finished her chore in seconds. With the slightest of squeezes, nearly imperceptible to herself, she snapped Soren’s frail arm at the elbow.

The pain was so great that Soren could hardly even cry out any longer. Instead he writhed for a minute. Tryn looked away immediately and began digging through one of her neatly organized piles of treasures. Moments later she produced another of the dark green military crates in which she stowed most of her smaller belongings. She set it down gently next to Soren as he continued to convulse from the harsh sensation of his dislocated limb. He opened his eyes briefly to glimpse the box but soon them once more. It must have been some cruel trick, he thought. Even when Tryn spoke up again he did not seem to notice.

“Now this will help the pain, I had the others gather what medical supplies they could and put it in this little chest. I’ll leave it with you in the hole, perhaps one of the others can help you with it, that is…if they are still inclined to do so.”

  Soren hardly registered a word, all he could focus on were the words ‘help’ and ‘pain’. He rolled to his feet and threw the chest wide open with his good arm. Inside was a mess of gauze, tackle boxes full of syringes, and every other multitude of first aid that one could possibly fit in such a container. Soren didn’t know where to begin, and he didn’t have long to look. The box snapped shut and suddenly disappeared into the air as Tryn snatched it back up with two of her extended fingers. Soren’s eyes drooped as he felt the malicious wave of fatigue suddenly seized him.

   “Come now, you can walk or I can carry you. It’s your choice…” Tryn mused rather resolutely. There was a minor thud as she guided her left hand down onto the ground beside him. He was disgusted by her, he felt more nauseous than scared offering him a kindness so soon after her cruel punishment. Nevertheless, the thought of stumbling the long distance back to his dingy cell was even more dreadful, so he hoisted himself onto her palm with what small ounce of strength he had left. She carefully moved him back to the dark hovel with the others, where she once again lay her hand flat, allowing him to dismount on his own terms. He did so with little purpose driving his limbs and proceeded to collapse like a burning house as soon as his feet touched the soil. Tryn placed the crate next to him and slide the hole’s cover back into place, leaving the huddle of humans in their usual darkness.

   “Christ!” one of the strangers cried out when they saw Soren’s broken frame. “She did a number on thissin’ that’s fa sure”

   “Don’t…don’t say that!” Soren croaked back amid throes of anguish. The strange man returned only a look of confusion in the dim. “Don’t use his name so harshly!”

    “Alright, alright get back, all ‘a ya. Lemme look at him” Caleb droned as he slogged through the amassing crowd of onlookers. Kate followed close behind before she diverted to the crate. Whilst she began rummaging through its interior Caleb crouched over Soren with one hand held tentatively out over his forehead. If he was trying to comfort Soren it wasn’t working well at all. Soren only thrashed about harder when he saw Caleb draw closer. The mere thought of more contact sent him into mad fits that were finally stopped when Caleb spoke up again, this time a bit softer.

    “Calm yerself now, you keep moving like that and you’ll only make it worse. Lemme see it, I’ve had to mend my fair share of injuries since I’ve been here.” He quickly snagged Soren’s arm, and though the poor man screamed with hot fury he soon surrendered it to his companion’s grip.

    “You, you gotta let me…gotta let me get out of here…” Soren sobbed up to Caleb. His words drove the lingering mass of people into a ceaseless storm of murmuring. Their incessant whispers only served to agitate Soren further, as he scanned the crescent mass between seizing conniptions.

“Alright, lets see here, can feel you this?”

Soren screamed with a renewed level of torment. Caleb nodded thoughtfully and moved his hands down to Soren’s wrist.

“How about this?” There was a pause and Soren nodded. “Hmm, well the good news is I don’t think the bones snapped completely, I’d guess you gotta crack or two and elbow is blown to hell. Shouldn’t be a problem just gotta…” With a quick jerk Caleb snapped the bones back into place. Again Soren’s mouth was absent of cries or curses, only a small squeak escaped his lips as his suffering was abruptly flared and then eased.

“That’s better then...Tom!” Caleb suddenly roared, jerking his head to the side in Thomas’ direction. The poor unstable fool was given such a start that he nearly fell over backwards. “Tom, go get ‘im something stiff!”

Thomas’ eyes dropped, and a tragic trembling in his lip revealed a sudden sadness. “But, but...my-” he stammered.

“Tom! Enough, go get the vodka! He needs it more than any ‘a us…”

Tom looked like he was about to protest, but another glare from Caleb silenced him and he soon disappeared into blackness. With the matter settled Caleb tried to hoist Soren to his feet, but was met with great resistance. At last, Soren stood, though his clothes muddled and his arm swollen to a sickening shade of purple. He could hardly see, but Soren knew the mangled state of his limb. Eyes averted, he stumbled over to the crate where Kate waited with the implements necessary for crafting a sling.

“Come, sit...someone get him a stool…” Kate called to the others. No one moved to answer her command, instead they only continued to whisper to one another. Kate turned, face red, and called again. “Someone, its not hard! Anyone?” Still nothing.

Then out of the dark a strange voice finally grew louder: “Wha’s it knee? God nah answer ya prayers?” A cacophony of spiteful snickers followed.

“Enough ya damn animals!” Caleb scolded.

“I can stand…” Soren moaned back. As Kate began constructing the sling, Soren tried to mutter some personal words of hope but for some reason nothing tactile came of it all. When he lifted his head he caught Caleb staring back at him. All of them, everyone of Tryn’s prisoners looked on with the same blank look on their faces. It was almost like indifference but Soren gradually came to realize that what they felt was actually something akin to familiarity. This sort of thing must happen a lot, and thus none of them were terribly torn up about it.

“So you mind telling me what’s she ravin’ on about now?”

Soren gave a pouting glare before answering: “Why, wh-what do you care?Its all just a game to you all anyway! You make your jokes and your pleas and-”

“Whoa easy there buddy, we jus used to it is all...Besides, if she’s mad about something that means we all gotta deal with it one way or another. So let me give you some advice. Don’t bother trying to hold out on her, she always gets her way…”

“What would you have me do!” Soren cried. The words escaped his mouth with unquenchable fervor. “Surrender the location of the other camps? Condemn thousands of innocent lives?”

Caleb smirked. “You don’t think she’ll find them anyway? ‘Sides, all you uniforms clustering together like you do, its dangerous you could-”

“Oh, and I suppose you’d rather we all live in the dirt like the rest of you…” Soren countered.

“Hey now I don’t-”

But Caleb’s words were cut off by a tremendous crash somewhere in the distance. The usual seismic distortion created by Tryn’s movements became relatively tolerable after a time, but this was different. Typically she would simply shift her weight or take a few tentative steps at a time, but this was fast and violent. Something was clearly wrong. The others huddled together as dust began to rain down over them from the ditch’s cover. Moments later it was ripped clean away, revealing the fresh moonlit air above. Tryn’s face suddenly appeared and she did not look happy.

“WHERE IS HE?” she thundered. The shockwave sent out by her voice was enough to send everyone to the ground. Briefly deafened, the concussive force irritated Soren’s swollen limb causing him to cry out with reignited anguish.

“Where is he hiding, I know one of you knows!”

“W-w-who?” Kate asked meekly from her hiding place behind the green crate.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know” she roared, once again sending everyone into terrified cowering spheres. “Victor, where the hell is he?”

“We thought he was-”

“SOMEONE TELL ME NOW!”

Soren tried to crawl away, though to where he was not sure. Tryn brought her fist down onto the earth, shaking more of the rocks and soil around the hole’s rim to loose, causing it to  tumble onto the hapless few inside. Soren and the others braced as rotting humus, gravel, and even some larger stones collapsed on top of them. When it was all over Soren peeked his head up from beneath his arms and was immediately met by a chorus of fear and suffering. Many of those around him had been injured by Tryn’s sudden tantrum, and many others still feared that it was not yet over. When Soren directed his twitching eyes upward he saw Tryn’s face had mutated from a raging mask of violence to a trembling grimace of frustrated despair. Her eyes were soaked with tears, which soon began to roll down both cheeks. Her breaths, when audible, were harsh and long. While her eyebrows and lips switched constantly between strain and slack.

The Soren locked pupils with her for a second, before Tryn finally rose and disappeared. Her catastrophic footsteps eventually receded, bringing back memories of the hormone driven tantrums issued by Soren’s moody sister from years ago. he couldn’t help but feel empty after seeing her in such a state of despair. He could no longer tell if she was just lonely or truly unstable. Whatever the case may be, Soren knew that the coming days would even more peculiar than the last. He only hoped that there would be time enough for everyone to pause, sit, and reflect on the madness of their predicament, even Tryn. Especially Tryn.