Red Is for Traitor

When I heard a knock on the door, I thought it was Trista or Sindri. Thinking nothing of it, I opened the door with a smile only for it to drop. Three of the five hunters stood before me, one of which had a large gash going down his leg. I stepped aside for the men to enter. "What happened?" I asked, already moving to the medical cabinet I usually had stocked.
As I retrieved bandages, a needle, threat, and salves the eldest of the three replied, "Matt slipped down some rocks and cut 'imself good."
"If you were by the river, there are many hidden pockets of rocks that the snow tends to cover. I suggest not going by there too often. There is a part of the river that has a large boulder, that is the safest area." I replied bending down to roll up his leg. Matt's wound was three inches long and needed stiches. I looked up at the man who had spoken to me and asked, "Sir, would you mind bringing the water pitcher over and the rag next to it?" He nodded and left to get it. When he took too long, I looked up to see him staring at my blood red cloak. I sighed, "Sir, the pitcher please."
"Sorry." He muttered and brought the pitcher to me. When my fingers brushed his, he pulled away as if I had burned him. I nearly dropped the pitcher, but managed to right it in time. I sighed again, but diverted my attention to the wounded. No one spoke as I leaned the wound, spread an antibiotic salve on it, sewed it up, and finally wrapped it in another salve. "Try not to walk on it for the next few day." I suggested, standing up. I began putting my supplies away and felt eyes on me. "Yes?" I asked, beginning to become uncomfortable with three pairs of eyes on me.
"Phillip dinnit tell us yous were a traitor." The first man narrowed his eyes at me.
My face did not change, but Phillip looked at the older man surprised, "What? How is she a traitor?"
"Dat red cloak ova there tells yous she is. She a wolfwhore." He spat. "We should take yous in."
"I have done no wrong that would demand you to." I replied evenly.
"Yous aint wearin' yous cloak now and we be people."
"I do not need to inside my own house even in the presence of company. If I was to step over the threshold I would, but not now. A stipulation I pay close attention to, sir."
"Yous slip up and know we won't hesitate to punish yous."
"I don't understand. How does the red cloak signify her as a... person who befriends them?" Phillip looked confused at his hunter friend pleading to me. He did not want me being friendly to werewolves to be true. We would never be friends if I was.
"People get the red cloak for helpin' dem beasts." He looked square at me and accused, "Red is for traitor. Being a traitor to mankind. I feel tainted now."
"Macha?"
My eyes shifted to Phillips. "It is true, I helped a werewolf through the city once." Then I looked back at the hunter. "I am a helper, a caregiver. No matter who or what you are I will help you."
"I despise people like yous." The hunter sneered.
"Then I request you leave my house immediately. I have done my job, please leave me in peace."
"Theres won't be peace forz yous, wolfwhore." Then he turned, helped the hurt man up and stalked out the door. "Phillip!" He called from somewhere outside.
The young man looked at me hurt. "Why didn't-"
"What difference does it make that I help wolves?"
"All the difference!" He cried. "I cant- We-" He was growing frustrated with himself and the situation.
"Why not?" I questioned with a tilted head. "Why can we not be friends if we want to be?"
"Because you're a wolfwh- wolf friend and I'm a hunter!"
"I am also friends to the trees, river, rabbits, deer, birds, foxes, and almost any other living creature. Why does me being friendly with wolves differ than being friendly with any other creature?"
"Because they ruthlessly kill. You as well as everyone else know this."
"Phillip!" The man outside was growing impatient. Phillip shook his head and started towards the door.
He before he was able to leave I asked quietly, "Are they?" He paused for a second and I thought he would stay.
Instead he asked in a harsh tone, "I thought your brother was bed ridden."
"He was. Comatose for months."
"Then what happened to him?"
"He became better."
"How?" When I did not answer he shook his head and left. I looked over at my cloak and smiled ruefully. That cloak has caused me more trouble than almost all of my actions and yet I would not trade it for the world. I wore it with pride because I knew the difference between rabid animals and sound minded creatures.
Throughout the next month more hunters came creating a total of ten hunters in the village (they finally took up residence in the small inn the village had). The pack was more cautious as they hunted the woods or came to visit. I began to see them less than I normally did and it made me lonely. Due to this, I visited the village more. I helped those who were either sick or had some sort of injury. I socialized a little and grew to know each hunter by face, name, and personality. Some were disgusted by me while others ignored me. The villagers seemed confused, but the hunters never gave an explanation as to why they avoided me like the plague.
It was one such trip into the village where life turned for the worse. The hunters were already stressed and on high alert. Word had been flowing in that fights between werewolf packs and hunters were escalating and war seemed imminent. It had not reached our village yet, but the hunters walked around as if it would happen any day. I doubted it though since the Moonshadow pack had no desire to start a fight (especially with their low numbers and a pup in the pack), but if another pack ran through there was no guaranteeing something would not happen.
The day was warmer than most and the sun was out. The village was serene for the most part, excluding the large men walking around like they were prepared to fight a monster. Then again, the villagers were now used to the men and barely acknowledged their gloominess. Everyone walking about was smiling, happy to finally be able to go outside without snow freezing them to the bone. The calm of the village was shattered when there was a loud explosion. Everyone froze and then went into action. A house bellowed black smoke into the sky and you could hear crying from inside.
I ran from my spot in the cemetery to the house. The villagers had already formed a line to try to douse the flames, while others ran inside to save anyone they could. I met up with the village doctor and together we waited for the family.
The mother was brought out first with the five year old daughter in tow. The little girl had a cut on her arm while the mother had a few cuts here and there and smoke inhalation. We treated both of them together and then the father when he was carried out. He was in the worse shape, having been closest to the explosion. I ordered some of the men to carry/usher the family to a nearby house for treatment. Then I noticed a young boy of about eight standing off to the side shaking and looking dazed. "Dr. Pent, go to the family I will join you in a moment." The doctor nodded and disappeared. I hurried over to the boy and stood before him.
"Antony?" I asked soothingly. I placed my hand on his shoulder. He was shaking and his eyes were glazed over with large pupils. My heart started racing, I had seen something like this before. "Antony." I noticed his breathing was off; irregular. I removed my hand only to place it on his cheek. I took a sharp inhale as I whipped off my cloak and wrapped him in it. The moment I touched him he fell into me. As I cradled him in my arms, I felt for a pulse. "Shit." I muttered to myself before swinging him in my arms and swiftly walking to the house his family was in.
"I need a bed." I announced and was quickly brought to a room where the mother was.
"Is Ahntony okay?" The mother asked, trying to get up and cringing.
"I hope so." I gently laid him down still wrapped in my cloak.
"Waht is wron'?" The mother's voice was panicked.
"Sometimes when a person experiences something traumatic the body does not know how to handle it and shuts down." I replied. I placed a rolled up blanket under the boy's legs and turned his head to the side.
"Hahve ye seen this befar?"
"Twice in the city after a mill caught on fire."
"Waht hahppened to de men?"
I paused unsure how to answer her. Finally I replied, "One died, there was nothing the doctor could do. The other one however lived. I am copying what the doctor did the best I can, but this was years ago..." I checked Antony's pulse again to find it still shallow but stronger than before. I leaned over him and gently called, "Antony I need you to breathe with me." I lifted one of his hands on my chest and started breathing. I did not know if it would work, but I was willing to try anything. As I breathed, I kept my eye on everything else. His body was decreasing in tremors, his heart was slowly becoming stronger, and overall he was looking a little better. It took over an hour for the boy to finally lose that dazed look and breath regularly.
When we thought all was well and good, some of the hunters barged in. The boy had just sat up when the hunters entered and nearly scarred him back into shock. "Honestly? These people are-Hey!" I cried as two of the hunters grabbed my arm. "What is going on?" I struggled, but they were too strong. Their grip was bruising.
The man I had talked to weeks ago smirked as he stood before me. "I tolds yous I would punish yous."
I felt the blood drain from my face, "I do not-"
"Takin' yous cloak off in public." He shook his head in mock sadness. "Take her to da jail." He bellowed.
"Unhand me!" I bucked in their grasps, fighting all the way out.
Once outside the constable stepped in front of us. "Waht is goin' on here?" He looked furious.
"Wes be brin' this... girl to jail." The man replied.
"Waht for?" The constable demanded.
"Breakin' the law. She aint suppose to take off her cloak."
The constable was confused, "It's a cloak."
"Small villages." The hunter laughed. "This cloak," He held up the fabric that once warmed the little boy. "Must be weared at all times. She be a traitor." He looked at me with a nasty smirk.
"Waht hahs she done?"
"She helped a wolf."
"She helps our village." The constable tried weakly.
"Don't matter. She don't wear the cloak, she faces punishment."
Hesitantly the man in office asked, "Waht is thaht?"
The hunter's lips spread into a wolfish grin, "Death by hangin'"
I started fighting again, "This is ridiculous! It was either take it off or risk the life of the child!"
"Don't matter."
I growled in frustration and fear as I was brought to my jail cell. I was thrown in along with my cloak. I walked up to the bars and held onto them. "What is so terrible about wolves?"
"They kill." He replied.
"As do humans."
He stalked closer until only the bars separated us. His breath wreaked. "They be rabid and need ta be put down."
"Only a select few are! Majority want to be left alone in peace." I cried. "They only fight to defend their territory, most packs do not attack unless threatened."
"Tell that ta all those who lost someone to a wolf." He snapped.
"As soon as you tell all the innocent wolves who have been killed."
"Day aint innocent."
"So says you." I challenged. Pissed off, the man slammed the bars startling me.
"At ten yous hang." Then the hunters left, leaving me alone in the dark cold room.
Around ten a dozen hunters flooded the room. I stood up with my eyes darting to keep everyone in my sight. I backed up as four entered my cell and tied my hands behind my back. I fought, but they were too strong and easily handled me. I was roughly pulled out of the small jail house and paraded through the streets to the hanging tree. Many of the villagers gathered and whispered as to what I had done. Some looked sad while others just looked curious. They knew me and it had been decades since the tree had been used. Once we made it, I was pushed up the rickety stairs where a noose was fitted around my neck and a hunter stood as my guard.
"Taday we gather for the hangin' of this," He looked at me with disgust before readdressing the crowd. "Wolfwhore." A gasp escaped most of the crowd. "Dis woman," Another hunter whispered into his ear before he continued, "Macha Lightwood, was accused and found guilty of helpin' a wolf. Her punishment was to wear the red cloak of a traitor and never take it off in public or face death. Yesterday, she broke the law-."
"She only did to save mah boy!" The mother cried, stepping foreword. "With out her, he'd be dead."
"Don't matter." The hunter replied as if she were a bug on the bottom of her shoe. "She knew what she doin' and still took it off. Any last words?" He asked in a bored voice.
"May I ask you a question?" I asked politely. He seemed to debate it before nodding. He may hate me, but I still intrigued him. "Why must wolves be killed for crimes they did not commit?"
"They must pay for the crimes of their kin."
I raise my head and look down on him. "Then you should die for the sins of all the murders of mankind."
The hunter's face turned beat red and he barked, "Bag and harn' her!" The next thing I knew a black bag was shoved over my head and the ground from under me dropped.