What Feasts at Night

Silence and tinnitus operate in tandem as one of the novella’s most important motifs, surfacing repeatedly to reveal Easton’s psychological state and to explore the merging of trauma with supernatural dread. Easton describes the oppressive silence of Gallacia as something that “roll[s] over” kan, and the protagonists goes on to assert, “I had not realized how much Bors and his grandmother had pushed it back” (38). In this scene, silence gains a tangible presence a that can “brush” against Easton, pursue kan, drown out kan thoughts, and even mimic danger.

Easton’s tinnitus serves as the counterpoint the to silence. When “the tinnitus [comes] roaring in” (10), Easton is immediately transported to a battlefield mindset, convinced that an enemy is behind kan and that ka is moments from death. As Easton’s bodily sensations override rational knowledge, the condition becomes a sensory bridge between past and present. Together, silence and tinnitus form a recurring motif that supports the novella’s The Tangible Nature of Trauma, articulating Easton’s vulnerability and signaling the moments when ka is overwhelmed, dissociating, or slipping back into memories of the war. The motif also blurs the boundary between trauma and the supernatural, for when Easton notes that “the silence was a lot like tinnitus” (39), this line suggests that the land and the haunting speak the same language as kan body. This convergence reinforces the novella’s central idea that trauma and folklore share sensory pathways and shape experience in parallel ways.

“Soldier’s heart,” the historical term for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), operates as a motif that frames Easton’s emotional landscape and subverts cultural myths about toughness and gender. Kingfisher uses the motif to dispel the idea that trauma is a modern phenomenon or that past generations simply endured without experiencing any consequences from unacknowledged trauma. For example, Easton explains that “lots of soldiers […] lose the trick” of crying (28), and kan words illustrate the idea that emotional numbing becomes a physiological reality. By reclaiming “soldier’s heart” as a lived experience, the novella critiques historical narratives that erase the suffering of veterans and other marginalized groups.

The motif recurs in Easton’s descriptions of panic, disorientation, and bodily memory, especially when Easton observes that “soldier’s heart doesn’t know the difference between terrible things. Fungus or cannon fire, it’s all just the war” (11). This statement anchors the novella’s portrayal of trauma as involuntary, embodied, and ever-present, and Easton’s recurring self-questioning—“What if it wasn’t the woods? What if it was me?” (40)—reveals kan fear that kan reactions are irrational or excessive This dynamic illustrates the ways in which trauma can destabilize self-trust.

Within the novella, tea functions as a symbol of caretaking and compassion. For Easton, the act of making tea for Bors is ritualistic because ka is paying homage to Codrin’s gentle care during Easton’s postwar convalescence. When Easton explicitly names this connection, the gesture becomes a way of invoking comfort and stability at a moment when fear is escalating inside the lodge. In this sense, tea comes to symbolize the fragile tether between past and present, and it also indicates Easton’s instinctive need to perform a caretaking role. Even when ka feels overwhelmed, inadequate, or consumed by trauma, Easton turns to caretaking actions as a way to anchor kan sense of self, as the simple act of brewing tea is one of the few things that Easton can control.