The sky was deep indigo rich with thunder, yet no rain fell. A hardened storm ready to burst.
Miles away flashes of light flickered.
"Oh no, it's going to be a really bad night," sobbed Tia, who held the baby's hand.
"We're safe under here," said Malcom, who wanted to reassure his terrified sister.
The baby wailed.
"She's hungry again and we've run out of milk!" Tia said.
"The bus won't be long and we'll get some more from the kitchen."
Then lightning tore across the sky above them. Followed by deafening thunder. It startled them all and the baby screamed. Tia lifted the baby from the pushchair and rocked her on her lap. Malcom stared anxiously towards the avenue where no lights were visible. They were shielded by a canopy over the bus shelter. The rain began in bucketloads and it sounded even like thunder itself.
Time passed.
"There isn't any bus coming now!" Tia shouted. "We're late!"
Malcom patted Tia's shoulder and said "It's coming soon."
Tia knew that it wasn't. Malcom said the exact same thing ages ago.
As the rain ceased, thunder melted away.
"The bus might've been delayed because of that storm," Malcom said.
The baby cried. Tia could not help but to give the baby a small droplets of water. It wasn't the same thing. Baby was very ill. With ma and pa gone, all they had was the orphanage now and big dreams of their distant rich uncle taking them in.
Yet it was worrying for them because their baby sister was constantly hungry now.
A woman appeared, and she was holding an umbrella and then closed it. The woman was dressed in a pretty black coat, white skirt with dark beads, Oxford wedged shoes and a feathered hat. She turned and faced the children and smiled.
"Hello," she said.
"We've been waiting for a bus for a very long time," Tia said, rocking the baby.
"I guess you must be hungry?" the woman was right.
She had amazing eyes, both Tia and Malcom thought as they looked at her. Her eyes were pale blue that glowed emerald as she turned. Eyes like a cat or a dog. The children were not frightened but in awe of her.
"My name is Helen," she told them. She opened her flower shaped purse then took out two small bars of chocolates. Then she removed a little carton of milk.
The children were astonished and grateful.
"Thank you ever so much, kind lady!" Malcom said.
Tia wiped her tears and thanked Helen.
"You can all eat now," Helen reminded them and she gently kissed the baby's forhead. "It's time for you children to go home."
"There's no home for us," Malcome told her.
"Our ma and pa were killed in the war," Tia sadly added.
"And we're waiting and waiting for our bus," Malcom reminded Helen.
Helen looked around and then she said, "there isn't going to be a bus now. I can take you home."
Tia looked at Malcom feeling puzzled.
"We can only trust her, Tia. We've sat here for so long now that it must be time to move on." The children all got up and let the woman kiss them on their heads as though she were their mother. All had felt calm. The children were going home and they could sense it.
Hours later, the children were returned to their parents.
Helen sat alone under the canopy of a former busstop in an abandoned street. She realised that the three child spirits should be now at peace and it saddened her to think they spent the past 70 years here all by themselves. She knew that spirits had to trust her to give them freedom to cross over. However, she could not be trusted if she were to appear in her natural form: A wolf.
Once the spirits of the three children entered into the light, Helen was transformed into her own self. She was noted as one of the fewest natural wolves with an ability to reach out to spirits and help pass them on into the light. Such a thing was with her since birth. None of her siblings could communicate with spirits this way. And she was able to project herself into human form so that spirits could talk to her. She was a medium wolf and here this night one job was done.
She bounded away on all fours, satisfied that once again she had given more wandering trapped spirits some final peace.
((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.
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