Liesel didn't remember falling asleep or returning to her cottage. All she knew was that somehow, she awoke the next morning in her own bed. Though her father's blood still stained the floor, his body was gone. The mayor arrived shortly to offer his condolences, and Liesel didn't even ask how he already knew or what had been done with the body. All she wanted to do was lie in bed and remember nothing of the world that had been taken from her.
"Did you hear me, Miss Hirsch?" Liesel slowly turned her head to look at him when he spoke her name. "I asked if you wanted to move in with someone. We have a number of families that are willing to take you in after such a grave accident. You wouldn't have to live on your own." So they all knew. Somehow, Liesel wasn't surprised. She stared at the rotund man with contempt. He had so many words when all she wanted was silence.
"No."
"Pardon?"
"I said, no!" Liesel snapped. "I will be fine on my own." It wasn't as if they had been any help thus far. "I won't be staying here anyways." The already nervous mayor looked as if this troubled him more deeply than her father's death.
"Where will you go?"
"I'm going to board the next grain wagon that will take me. I'm going back to my grandparents."
"I wouldn't advise that," he began, but she cut him off.
"I do not care what you would or would not advise! You and the rest of this wretched town have been nothing but a blight on me and my family! I'm leaving, and there is nothing you can do!" Finally, realizing he wasn't convincing anyone, the mayor stood and left, much more disconcerted than he had been when he'd arrived.
As soon as he was gone, Liesel began to ransack the cottage, looking high and low for their money. Surely they had to have some coins stashed somewhere. It was only when she reached his blood-stained mattress that Liesel realized Warin must have kept the money on his person when he went to sleep. He always kept the money with him when they traveled anywhere. And Liesel had no idea where his body was or who had taken it. Angry, but undeterred, she slammed the cottage door shut as she marched back into the town. She approached the first grain wagon she saw.
"How much to hitch a ride back to Weit?" The man loading his wagon looked at her incredulously before shaking his head and chuckling.
"The city by the mountain? That will cost you at least 200 francs, love." Liesel nearly lost her composure. 200 francs was more than her father made at the smith in a year. Swallowing hard, she tried again.
"What about just to the edge of the forest?"
"200 francs."
"But that's much closer!" Liesel protested. The trader rolled his eyes and bent down to whisper in her ear.
"Look, it's nothing personal. This morning, before dawn even, your mayor came around to warn all the travelers, such as myself, that an addled girl would be asking for rides out of town. He threatened our allowance out of town if he caught us trying to take her."
"Addled?" Liesel growled. The man shrugged.
"I didn't say I believed him. But to risk my right to trade in this town, I would have to know I was guaranteed something for my troubles." Speechless, Liesel whirled and stalked over to another trader. And a third, and then a fourth. Somehow, either the mayor or Izaak had managed to speak with every single tradesman in the town. Unless she was able to come up with 200 francs, or more, as some of the others had asked, she was going nowhere.
Without realizing where she was going, Liesel ended up back at the cottage. Everything was still in disarray, bundles and bags thrown haphazardly about from when Liesel had searched them for coins that morning. She stood in the doorway for a moment, uncertain of what to do. Part of her wanted to find Kurt. The other part of her wanted to fall into her bed and sleep and never have to wake up. As she vacillated, however, an ice cold determination moved into her heart. A plan was already forming in her mind.
Night had fallen by the time Liesel's plan was complete. She would find work in Ward. If they were so determined to keep her, they would have to give her some way to survive. Garden or no garden, she needed a way to buy grain. She wasn't going to live long on turnips, onions, parsnips, and the few potatoes her little plot had produced that summer. She would save and scrimp everything she could though, buying only what was necessary. She would get the 200 francs if it killed her.
A wolf howled in the distance, and Liesel fetched the crossbow once again. Laying it beside her bed, Liesel glared at the door, mentally daring the animal to burst through. If she couldn't leave now, it didn't matter. Somehow, she was going to escape.
9. DON’T LOOK BACK
"I want Armen to win, but I think Bruno will probably pull the ribbon," Mitsi tossed her red curls knowingly. But Karla shook her head and scoffed at her sister.
"Dirk can beat Bruno any day. Besides, who would want Bruno to win? He is pigheaded enough as it is. No one needs to give him another reason to strut about like a rooster." She looked down the table at Liesel where all three girls kneaded dough. "Who do you want to win?" But it was a long moment before Liesel realized the girl was actually speaking to her.
"Oh," Liesel flashed an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but I don't really know." Mitsi went back to the conversation as if Liesel had never spoken, but Karla continued sending curious looks her way every few minutes. Liesel appreciated the girl's attempt to draw her in to the discussion. After nearly a year of working in the bakery, it was nice to have someone who didn't treat her like she had the plague.
"Karla, come here," the baker's voice had an edge to it. Liesel gave a small sigh, knowing what was about to happen. Karla knew, too, but instead of looking abashed, she lifted her chin a bit and walked stubbornly out the back door. Liesel could hear their words through the window, and it was impossible not to listen. Usually Mr. Huber wasn't so careless as to rebuke Karla where Liesel could hear, but all the windows were open due to the warm day, and he hadn't needed to lecture his youngest daughter about Liesel for a while.
"Karla, are you trying to get someone killed?"
"I'm just being friendly, Papa," Karla sounded impatient. Mr. Huber sighed.
"You have a kind heart, Daughter, but if you're not careful, you could be the one they mark if something happens to Liesel! Or it could be your sister! How many times must I tell you about the time Ilsa escaped? Then it was her closest friend who was marked instead!" Liesel nearly risked a glance out the window. How strange that a girl with her grandmother's name should have been marked.
"It's so unfair," Karla pouted. "Liesel works hard, never misses a Holy Day, and even stays late to help clean up, and all we do is ignore her. She must be lonely."
"Aye, it is unfair," the baker's voice was sad. Liesel had to remind herself to keep kneading the bread. She'd never heard anyone from Ward speak about her with such sympathy before. Since she'd requested work from the mayor and had been assigned to Huber’s shop, the most kindness she'd received was getting to take home dry, unsold pastries sometimes after the shop closed. Not that overhearing this discussion would change anything. Still, it helped a little to know that it was the mark they feared. A little voice inside whispered that at least they didn't hate her.
When she'd first met the family, it was strange to learn that the father and daughter were in any way related. Huber was a tall, fat man with an unusually nasally voice, and he was slightly inclined to be dramatic. Karla, on the other hand, was skinny and practical, just two years Liesel's junior. Liesel often felt a twinge of jealousy about the situation, that she should have been great friends with the girl if it hadn't been for the terrifying mark on her hand that everyone in town somehow seemed to know about.
A few moments later, Karla and her father walked back in, and Karla said nothing more to Liesel the rest of that morning or the afternoon, but she did sneak her a smile as the sisters left the kitchen at the end of the day. Liesel procrastinated as much as she could, sweeping the floors and wiping the windows until Huber told her she needed to go home. She stood quietly as he counted out her week's pay, then turned silen
tly to go after pocketing the coins. Huber's conscience must have gotten the better of him, however, because he called out to her once more as she opened the door.
"Liesel?" She turned back to him, wide-eyed with curiosity. He paused nervously for a moment before whispering, "Good work." Shocked, Liesel could barely get herself to nod as the baker ducked back into his pantry. Liesel wondered as she walked at how peculiar it was that she wasn't the first girl to be marked. And not only that, but that a marked girl from years before should have had her grandmother's name. What was it that Ilsa had told Warin the night of their departure? People that go to that town...they never leave! How had she known that, especially when so many were bound to secrecy by the strange magic? Liesel sighed. It would have been the perfect question to ask Kurt if she hadn't been trying to avoid him.
Warin's death had changed Liesel. It had made her even more determined to leave Ward. She had asked the mayor the very next day to help her find work. It sickened her to have to ask him for anything, but she knew without him that no one would even consider giving her a job. Also, it would convince him of her intentions to stay. She hoped that in time, he would relax his reign over the travelers’ wagons. Apparently, though, he was still sniffing around, asking which ones Liesel had approached. Not even the peddler, Gil, had been willing to speak with her. They wouldn't even carry a letter to her grandparents.
As soon as Liesel had taken the new job, she hadn't had nearly as much time to see Kurt. One day, however, she'd gotten the feeling she was being watched as she walked home. Turning down the road to her own cottage, she'd nearly passed out from fright when she saw someone waiting in the shadow of the trees. When she saw that it was Kurt, however, she had nearly smacked him for scaring her so.
"Why haven't you been coming out?" He'd demanded.
"I got a job," Liesel had apologized. "I'm working now. I don't get out until it's nearly dark."
"Why do you need to do that?" He looked so confused that Liesel nearly told him her plan to escape, but an instinct warned her not to. She wasn't sure why, but something warned her that he would react badly. It felt wrong to hide something from her only friend. But she had to escape. So she used the next best excuse.
"I need to eat," she'd said in a low voice. Kurt had frowned.
"You have your garden. And I can still bring you meat."
"And that's very kind of you...but I'd still like to be able to buy grain sometimes. And clothes, shoes, feed for my horse-"
"Alright," Kurt sounded annoyed, but had conceded. "Will I get to see you anymore at all?" Liesel's heart had sped up, and her cheeks felt warm. In spite of herself, she'd smiled.
"If you wait for me at the edge of the forest like this, you can walk me home. Would your father mind that?"
"It doesn't matter," Kurt had scoffed. "I can walk you home if I want." And so they'd continued. Liesel hadn't dreaded going to the bakery so much after that, since she had her time with Kurt to look forward to at the end of every day. She would often save the pastries they gave her to share with Kurt on the way home. It must have looked odd to any passerby who might have seen them. Actually, the passerby would have only seen her, walking on the edge of the road, talking to herself, handing baked goods into the trees. The passerby wouldn't have seen the lanky boy accept the morsels and devour them greedily as young men do. He would have missed the boy looking hard at the girl's face, studying her expressions, hanging on her every word. But Liesel saw, and that was why it was so hard now to try and avoid the one person in the world she wanted so much to see.
After a year of working, scrimping, and saving, Liesel nearly had the 200 francs. She needed just one more week's wages before she would have enough. As she walked home on this particular night, however, she realized she felt more unhappy than ever. She should have been rejoicing. After three years in the miserable forest, she was finally close to returning to her grandparents and her beloved mountain. And yet, a part of her mourned. Soon she would have to face Kurt and tell him the truth. And if she was honest with herself, she thought it just might break her heart.
"It's a bit late, don't you think?" Liesel's heart stopped then started again as she recognized the deepening voice that came from the shadows. He'd caught on to her. Liesel closed her eyes and sent a prayer up to the Maker to ask for words. This was a conversation she wasn't ready for yet.
"Yes," she said slowly, turning towards the voice in the trees. "It is." A hand reached out and drew her into the forest. It was a bit unnerving to see only darkness, but Liesel had long ago given up fearing the forest when she was with Kurt. She was discomfited this night, however, by the tone of his voice.
"Liesel, what are you up to?" He sounded impatient and tired, which was unlike him. When she didn't answer, he said, "This wouldn't have anything to do with running away, would it?"
"Is it really running away when you are just trying to run home?" Liesel spat out, dangerously close to tears. She heard him let out a gusty breath. "I wanted to tell you, I promise," she hastened to explain. "I just...didn't know how."
"Why?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Why do you need so badly to go?"
"I need a life, Kurt! I miss my grandparents! I miss the sun! I miss talking to people, and walking by them without them thinking I have some wretched curse!"
"But I've given you the sun...by the waterfall!" His voice was worried now. "I...I can make sure they treat you better!" Had he lost his mind? How could he make sure that happened? Liesel shook her head, trying to find the right words, when an idea hit her. Reaching out, she found his hands and held them tightly.
"Come with me!" she urged. "My grandparents are kind! They would give you work until we were ready to go on our adventures! We could leave this place behind and never look back! Please, Kurt!" Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded with him. "I need you, too!"
"And what about my family?" He sounded resentful. "Am I just supposed to leave them behind?" They were quiet for a moment until Liesel finally whispered,
"That's exactly what you're asking of me, isn't it?" Liesel said quietly. Another awkward silence ensued, but Liesel was sure she felt her heart breaking. Finally, Kurt spoke again, his words slow and agonized.
"How long?"
"One week." The coins in Liesel's pocket had never felt quite so heavy.
"Give me two," he pleaded, his voice suddenly passionate. "Give me until the festival!"
"Why? I hate that stupid dance. No one will dance with me." Liesel was beginning to loathe the festival with a passion she'd not known herself capable of. The girls at the bakery had talked of nothing but the Summer Maiden for the past two weeks. But Kurt's hands tightened their grip on hers.
"I would."
"But you're not allowed to leave the forest!"
"Hang the rules," Kurt's voice was husky. "Just...just promise me you'll wait until then. Give me two weeks." Liesel's breathing hitched with surprise when a hand gently touched her cheek. It was the most gentle touch she'd felt since her mother had died. Her heart raced as she wished there was enough light to see his face. Faintly, she felt herself nod and whisper,
"Alright. I'll wait." To her even greater surprise, he drew her forward. A quick, warm kiss was pressed on her cheek before she found herself back out on the road alone. It was so dark by the time she reached her cottage that she tripped twice, but it didn't matter. She was smiling like a fool the whole way. Why Kurt wanted to meet her at the dance, she had no idea. But she was willing to wait and find out.
***
Liesel fastened the red cord beneath her chin. Usually she wouldn't need her cloak this early in autumn, but it had been an exceptionally cool summer. That winter would make short work of the fall was the popular prediction among the people of Ward.
A knock at the door made her jump as she readjusted her skirts. She glanced in the mirror once more, still a bit shocked. It had been a while since she'd paid any heed to the girl who stared back at her. In her absence, the girl had gone, and a
woman that looked frighteningly like Amala had taken her place. Liesel took another deep breath and turned to answer the door.
If her own reflection had startled her, it was nothing compared to the surprise she felt when she saw Kurt. The stubble that constantly darkened his jawline was gone for once, and the clothes he wore were abnormally clean. His hair even looked as though he might have attempted to brush it. The trousers were brown, and though old, appeared to be without the usual holes. He wore a white shirt tucked in beneath a dark blue coat that reached his knees. Kurt looked out of place in the clothes, uncomfortable in every way. His obvious discomfort didn't stop him from looking quite manly though, Liesel thought shyly. It took her aback a little. The night in the forest didn't count as a visit, as she hadn't been able to see a thing, but she had only been avoiding him for a few months. And yet, he seemed years older.
Kurt's own eyes grew large when Liesel opened the door. He cleared his throat twice before speaking.
"I, uh...I don't suppose you have a ribbon." Liesel smiled timidly and pulled one from her hair. A faint grin cracked his anxious face as she held it out to him.
"It was my mother's," Liesel answered the unspoken question softly as she stared at the red silk. "She wore it the night she met my father." Liesel had considered using her old blue one, but had quickly decided against it. It held too many memories, and buying a new one just seemed to invite disaster. She'd nearly told Kurt she wasn't coming until she'd found this one wrapped up in her mother's favorite old dress, the scarlet one she wore now beneath her cloak.
"I like it," Kurt mumbled. After hesitating for a moment, he took the ribbon and tied it around his forearm, the way tradition insisted before offering her his other arm to hold. Her heart beat fast as she accepted. His arm felt warm and strong.
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