The Daughter Who Was Supposed to Die Chapter 02

The Daughter Who Was Supposed to Die Chapter 02

Memory crept back like fog that never leaves the woods, smelling of old fir and damp earth.
When I was younger, five or six maybe, I really did hate Millie.
The pack had only one sweetest honeyfruit. It was Millie’s.
The only warm roast, the most tender piece, also went to Millie.
The newly sewn little leather jacket always went to Millie first. I only got it after she wore it out.
It was already stiff and worn out, with roughly patches edges.
Bedtime wolf-clan stories? Those were Millie’s too.
Mom’s voice was was gentle as she told the stories, like the evening wind brushing the treetops.
She’d tell the legend of Moonlight Forest, the tale of the first Wolf King, those songs about guardians and life.
But that gentleness? It was only for Millie.
I’d secretly crouch outside the living room, hugging my knees in the shadows, only to hear Mom speak in a gentle voice.
“Millie, what do you want to hear today?”
“I want the story of the Moonlit Wolf Spirit, Mom.”
Then Mom would begin, slow and warm, with a voice that could melt winter snow.
I squatted outside the door, and the more I listened, the tighter my chest pulled, like a thin cord was cinching it.
Why couldn’t she tell those stories to me too?
During a deadly winter when I was seven, the pack brought down a big, fat reindeer. Then Mom cooked a whole pot of meat soup, with the two best legs glistened with fat.
At dinner, she calmly set both legs into Millie’s bowl.
“Eat up, Millie. You need to build your strength.”
Meanwhile, I stared at the bland wild-greens soup in my bowl and burst into tears.
“Why do both legs go to Millie!”
With a trembling voice, I cried out, “I want some too! I want a leg!”
Dad slammed his fork on the stone table.
“Annie! How can you be so inconsiderate?”
His voice sounded shaky when continued, “Don’t you know how weak Millie is? Your sister is about to…”
He couldn’t finish.
Back then, I didn’t understand.
I just knew Millie always looked pale and sometimes coughed softly.
Whenever Mom and Dad looked at her that way, sadness lingered in their eyes.
But I didn’t know what that meant.
“I don’t care! Why do you always give all the good stuff to Millie!!”
Still crying, I jumped off my chair and pointed at Millie.
“Why don’t you just die! Give me back what’s mine!”
Millie’s tears dropped into her bowl in big, heavy beads, silent as stones.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Mom shot to her feet and slapped me hard across the face.
It was the worst I’d ever been hit.
That one slap knocked me to the floor.
Millie lunged like she’d gone crazy, trying to shield me, but Mom clamped her in a tight hold.
“She has to be punished, Millie! Otherwise she’ll have no heart! She’ll just spit out any cruel words!”
The next day, I hid outside the kitchen and heard my parents whispering.
“Eight years left.”
Mom was crying. Her voice trembled.
“I know.”
Dad’s voice sounded rough and broken.
“Eight years… only eight years…”
That was the day I finally got it. Millie was really going to die.
The elder’s cold prophecy was real.
That mark of fate on her that no one else could see was a countdown.
Back in the present, my parents in the living room were carefully helping Millie back to her room.
I drifted in the air watching them, and a bitter ache stabbed my chest.
“If necessary, we let Annie out to keep Millie company.”
Even when saying that quietly, Dad’s voice also sounded a little hesitant.
Mom stayed silent for a long, long time.
“Forget it. Let her tough it out a little longer.”
When she spoke, her voice sounded exhausted.
“At least… let Millie get through this birthday in peace. Just this one day. Her last day.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
It sounded as if she was convince herself into it.
“Annie will understand someday.”
She continued, although still sounded doubt, “After Millie’s gone, we… we’ll love her right. We’ll take good care of her.”
Dad didn’t answer. He just turned into the kitchen, took a small, tough piece of jerky from the wooden cabinet, and headed for the basement.