by Anna Rose
Aya was afraid to come any closer, fearing what she would find when she did. Zoraya’s breathing was shallow, not strong, and that frightened her.
It looked as though Gebi had left the cottage via the front door, as he was nowhere in sight. Coward. So that was why her father had wandered off. She hoped he would be gone a long time, in his search for her weasel of a brother.
“Mama?”
There was no answer, nor any change in her breathing.
Gathering her courage and moving to her mother’s side, Aya carefully rolled Zoraya over and saw that her father had brutally beaten her. Aya felt sick inside when she realized that her mother’s nose was now a flattened wreck. Andagebi had not pulled his punches.
“Oh, Mama!” was all Aya could say. The awful wounds on her mother’s face would probably leave ugly scars behind. The one mirror they possessed, which was little better than a sheet of polished metal, would maybe be blurry enough to conceal the damage that Andagebi had left behind, as it was far from perfect. Perhaps that was a blessing.
She wet an almost-clean rag and used it to wash the blood from her mother's face gently, and then did what she could to stem the bleeding of her mother’s once delicate nose. She had no idea of what she could do to fix it, so she simply took another clean rag, wet it down as well, and laid it gently against her mother’s nostrils. It broke her heart to know it would not heal well.
Mother’s eyes fluttered open ever so slightly, and Aya saw her gaze fix on her. Ugly bruises were already beginning to form around her mother’s eyes, made to look even worse in the flickering light of the fire.
“Aya, my daughter, what are you doing here? Why did you not flee when I told you to go outside?”
Aya was surprised by her mother’s question. Where else would she be?
“I’m here because father told me to come and tend to you, Mama. If I had known he would do this to you, I would not have left the house.”
Zoraya frowned, and then winced as the expression tugged at skin and muscles damaged by the beating Andagebi had administered
“I wanted to keep you safe, Aya, and that has not changed. Your father is intent on marrying you to the baker, child. I have heard too many terrible things about him to permit such a thing to come to pass,” her mother whispered weakly. “So many terrible things.”
“What can I do about that, Mama? I have nowhere else to go.”
Her mother seemed to come back to herself and focused on her daughter once more. She reached out a hand and squeezed her daughter’s upper arm.
“I have a small bag of coins in the back of the grain cupboard, Aya. I want you to take them and my jewelry, which your father planned to use as your dowry, anyway, and go. Go far away. Perhaps you can find yourself a kind husband out somewhere in the world, away from the murderous baker.”
“Murderous?”
“His last wife died under questionable circumstances, Aya,” her mother told her. “Stop wasting time. Put on your warmest clothes, grab the bag of coins and my jewelry, take some food, and flee while you can. He plans to send you to Branathar the baker in the morning.”
A chill thrilled through Aya’s spine, and she did as she was bid, stopping only to help her mother into a sitting position against the table’s leg, wrap her mother’s worn shawl around her mother’s skinny shoulders, and to give her a farewell kiss. The trio of plain, thin, gold bracelets her mother had given her knocked against one another with a slight jangling sound.
“I am glad you will have those, Aya. My mother, your grandmother, gave them to me when I married your father. Better that you have them for yourself, rather than some man’s family, who would not appreciate their stories. There is something else you must know before you leave if only to impress upon you why you should go and never come back.”
Aya just looked at her mother.
“He murdered your infant sisters when I did not bear him another son. I will not lose you as well,” Zoraya murmured, and coughed thickly, bringing up dark red blood when she did. “He took them while I slept and did away with them both.”
“Sisters? I had sisters?” She remembered her father’s words about her mother’s pregnancies, as though she had had more than two, and felt as though she would vomit. “Where are they? What happened to them?”
“They are long gone, my dear Aya. Now you must be long gone as well before your father returns. I would see you safely away from here. Take the youngest hen and the old black hen with you when you go. One will give you eggs, perhaps, and you can eat the other. He does not need them.”
She pushed her daughter away from her, weakly, but not unkindly.
“I have always loved you, my dear Aya. I am sorry that I did not say it more often. You have grown into a fine young woman, and I am proud of you. Good fortune to you, my daughter,” her mother said, as Aya left. “I will always be with you, wherever you may go in life.”
6
Aya set the livestock loose before she left. She knew that it would take precious time to round them all up again, as the dog was old, and not as limber as she had once been, so it would delay any pursuit by her father and brother, who would not risk losing any of the precious animals to the forest and the wolves within. She wished them all well in their bid for freedom, however long that freedom might last.
The hogs and cows were elated at their unexpected escape and made the most of it. The six hogs promptly wandered into the nearby melon field, happily devouring the ripe, unharvested bounty that lay on the ground. After being shooed out of their pen, the cows contented themselves by meandering toward the half-grown barley field. The cows only rarely hurried, and this was not one of those times.
She took the thin golden bracelets off her wrist and tucked them away safely in the pack she carried on her back. There was no sense in drawing any more attention to herself with the gaudy bangles. Her mother had come from a family that, while not wealthy, was reasonably well-off. Her mother’s gift would be good for barter, should circumstances become so dire that she needed to exchange them for food or clothing. She knew very little about from whence her mother had come, as Zoraya had shared little of her childhood, to keep her daughter from feeling as deprived as she.
Her mother’s family had lived in a town, rather than on a farm, but with four daughters to marry off, Aya’s grandfather had arranged for whatever marriages he could, as four dowries might very well bankrupt a man, if he was not a shrewd bargainer.
Zoraya was the oldest daughter, so hers had been the first dowry he had provided. Had Grandmother Izanaya saved back other bits of her jewelry for her younger daughters, as they had been sent off to their new homes? Aya did not know.
Aya had met her maternal grandmother once, and the old woman, widowed and living with her youngest daughter, Izaorna and her family, had gabbled on incessantly about how she was so disappointed that her beloved daughter had been reduced to the position of scullery maid. Andagebi had sent the old woman on her way as soon as he was able.
Tears ran down Aya’s cheeks as she ran for the safety of the forest, and she wondered if the Dragonguard would have interceded on behalf of her mother, had they known she was being beaten. On the other hand, was such mundane intercession something they avoided? She determined to ask one of them when the opportunity presented itself, should she be so lucky as to meet a Dragonguard.
Aya was nearly to the edge of the forest, the two hens fussing quietly in the burlap sack she had strapped to her back when she became aware of an odd glow behind her. Turning, she saw the cottage, engulfed in flames, and with a surge of grief, knew that her mother would no longer need anyone to do chores for her. Perhaps Zoraya knew that her injuries were far greater than could be seen, and this was her revenge on her husband for inflicting them upon her.
Andagebi’s fury would be terrible, and the loss of his home might very well cancel Gebi’s engagement as well. Better to be far away from that explosion. Perhaps her brother would be caught in that fire, for a change.
/> As she had been playing in the forest since the time she was old enough to walk, Aya did not find it to be a threatening place. Over the years, she had even found places where she would conceal herself all day long, hiding from Gebi, who enjoyed tormenting his little sister. The wolves, seeming to sense a kindred spirit, had watched from a distance, but left her alone. Knowing that being in their good graces was not a bad idea, she would bring scraps for them on those days she could sneak away with something she felt a wolf would consider tasty. Bones were a frequent offering to her lupine hosts.
Aya knew the forest was ancient, as some of its trees seemed to touch the sky itself. Other trees were so old, they had hollowed out centers, and only a crust of bark remained as a great cavern to show that a tree had ever stood in its place. Aya imagined the gods and fair folk gathering there for councils of war. It was clear to her that dragons had never thought to lay eggs in such splendid places.
The egg basket, with its meager offering of a half dozen oblong treasure chests, dangled from one hand, while the other hand grasped a stout walking stick. A second burlap sack lay alongside the bag that held the hens, heavy with what small items Aya was capable of carrying with her in her flight.
She had put some of the leftover stew into the single undamaged stoneware container the family owned and then sealed it with a scrap of oiled leather, and a piece of twine. It was enough to last until breakfast, two days hence, provided she was careful with how much she ate. The loaf of bread she had taken with her would help to fill up those bits she would not be able to fill with stew. Hopefully, the young hen would oblige her with an egg or two, providing it was not too stressed from travel. The black hen would live a bit longer, at least until Aya absolutely could not avoid eating her.
Aya was angry that Gebi had left their mother to be beaten by their father, but he was a reflection of his father. He had been raised to believe that the male head of the house had final say in everything, and the law had no rules against beating wives and girl children, even to the point of death. It was grossly unfair, but that was life, as she knew it.
She had thought to take some dried meat from the storehouse when she left so she would have that to nibble on after the stew and bread were gone. Andagebi would be outraged when he discovered that at least five pounds of dried meat were missing, but she would be long gone by the time he did.
Even with the preparations she had made, Aya knew that she could not spend the rest of her life hiding in the forest so she would have to find somewhere else to live.
That would mean not in the nearby village, as she was known there, and that was where the villainous baker appeared to be making ready for her to be his next wife. Even two villages over would be too close to her father and brother, Aya knew so she would need to plan on a significant journey to get to a place where no one knew her.
7
She remained in the forest, high up in the branches of her favorite tree until she had finished the stew and the bread, and her tears would no longer come. Long ago, she had built a shelter of sorts in those high branches, where she had hidden some of the bits and bobs of her childhood. It had become a familiar place to her and seemed a good place to conceal herself, as Gebi and Andagebi had never known about it. Certainly, neither would think to look for her in such a place.
The young hen, which she decided to call Freckles, laid a few eggs during that time, and Aya swallowed them raw, so as not to draw attention to herself with the glow or smoke of a fire. The black hen remained nameless, as Aya did not want to create the emotional attachment a name could bring.
She cried for her mother, and the sisters she had never known. This new information about what might have been made the bloom of hatred that lay in her heart for her father become a poisonous thorn bush. At one point, she heard her father nearby, angrily calling out her name, but he did not know of her current hiding place, so he did not find her.
Amused at the sight, Aya was able to watch him blunder through the rotting leaves and fallen logs, and he eventually went back in the direction of the ruins of her former home. Afraid that the chickens might reveal her presence, Aya had put both birds back into the burlap sack and wrapped it snugly around them, knowing that the sudden darkness and restriction would keep them from being noisy.
She suspected that Gebi had accompanied his father into the forest, and had concealed himself nearby when Andagebi left, hoping to catch his sister and return her to their father for whatever punishment he deemed fit. She did not relish the idea of having to wait him out, but with Fortune’s blessing, a rescue of sorts arrived within a few hours.
The wolves, who were never far away, caught either her scent or that of her brother and came to investigate. They must have moved with stealth, as she heard a deep growl, a startled exclamation from her brother, and then the sound of him racing away as fast as his legs would carry him.
It was plain to Aya that the wolves were only playing with Gebi, as they did not attack him, but only chased him off. They usually fed well off the deer that also called the forest home, and she imagined that they were more concerned about chasing off a fellow predator than eating one. She was glad they had never played similar games with her during her visits to their territory.
Eventually, the time came when she said goodbye to the ancient tree that had sheltered her. She had decided to keep moving through the forest, to see where that direction would take her. It would certainly be better than staying anywhere near her childhood home. She could hear the wolves around her, but they never approached. Perhaps she was not “predator” enough to concern them, and for that, she was grateful.
It took Aya nearly a week to make her way through the thickly forested land, sleeping high in the trees to keep the curious wolves at bay, to a place she had never before laid eyes upon, nor heard of in the stories, often embellished, that her father would often tell of his travels. She kept to herself as much as possible, hiding when she heard others near. A woman of any age, out on her own, was considered unacceptable, and it would put her in great danger if she were discovered.
Several days of hard walking later, Aya caught sight of what appeared to be a walled city. Fighting down fears of discovery and a forced return to her father’s farm, she decided to go to it and see if she could at least find victuals for her continued journey. There was even the chance she might find someone willing to take her in for the winter months, in exchange for housekeeping. She certainly had the experience.
As she stood outside the high stone walls, it quickly became evident that this village was uninhabited, at least by humans, for whatever reason. Curious, though not at all frightened, Aya walked into the abandoned village and looked around, knowing that she had her pick of the surviving buildings, in the absence of their original inhabitants.
Many of the stone buildings within had fallen in upon themselves during their long abandonment, although some still managed to stand reasonably upright. What appeared to be the town’s center was filled with what must have once been a rather ornate large building. The cracked fountain in front of the rotting edifice had long since dried up and was now full of weeds and debris.
Only a few of the stained glass windows remained unbroken, and when she ventured inside, she heard the resident vermin run in terror at her intrusion. Aya could not remember the last time she had frightened anyone or anything, so their hasty exit made her smile.
The building had been looted long ago of its obvious treasures, although the shelves set into the walls still held several books or the remains of books. Aya, who had never learned to read, but enjoyed looking at the illustrations, took one down and fingered her way through it, admiring the carefully painted pictures, before carefully putting it back on its shelf.
Having satisfied herself as to its contents, Aya left the building and scouted around for a place to stay. She knew that her father and brother, being superstitious people, would never enter an abandoned town, for fear of “evil spirits” so she would be relatively saf
e in the town for the time being. She would stay until she had filled her stores at least a little more and then move out once again.
Aya found her safe spot in a back corner in a small cottage that was almost a part of the rear wall of the town. Surprisingly, a small, dented, old cookpot in reasonable repair still hung over the long-cold ashes of the fireplace. It was just what she needed.
The bed she found within had not rotted too badly, and after beating the dust out of the worn mattress it supported and flipping it over, it made a serviceable bed for her. As there were three rooms, she gave one over entirely to the hens. Aya had no plans to stay long enough to need to clean it out again.
She gathered some old wood from the edge of the forest and used that to make as smokeless a fire as she knew how to create, to stay warm during the cooling nights and to make what food she could for herself from what she had managed to gather during the daylight hours.
Using simple snares, Aya caught hares, squirrels, and the occasional bird, and made use of every part of their carcasses as she was able, devouring the cooked birds, and then smoking and drying the hare and squirrel meat. She cured the small mammals’ hides and used them to make a crude fur-lined cloak for herself. It would win no beauty contests, but by the time she was done with it, the day the first snows fell, it was a warm and welcome addition to her wardrobe. She was glad that her brother had charmed her into working the hides that he took when he was out hunting, else she would never have learned how to do it for herself now.
The badly wounded deer she found early one morning and put out of its misery provided an unexpected windfall in food and the opportunity to tan a decent-sized hide. She tried to find a way to make as much use of the carcass as possible, not wanting to waste anything if she could avoid it.