literature

Enthorned...aka, my NaNo novel

Deviation Actions

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Literature Text

Briar had walked too far again. The night was cold and she was without a shawl—it had been an unusually warm day for autumn, and she didn’t think at the time to bring one when she left the house. But once the sun had gone down, the cold returned, and she still had miles to go until she reached home.
Autumn was a strange season for her. She both loved and hated it, for it reminded her of the very best and the very worst time of her life. Though she loved the whispers of the wind in the leaves, she sometimes wished (and half-pretended) that there were human voices whispering to her instead. The quite hum of the woods always soothed her, yet she could not help but be reminded of another, long ago, whose voice would lull her to sleep at night. Snatches of memory—the sound of wagon wheels on a dirt road, the bustle of a crowd surging through a market-place, a gentle hand brushing her hair from her forehead—came with the changing of the leaves, along with brief recollections of a roaring crowd, of pain, and fear. So it was every autumn.
She came to the stream. Normally she would stop here and rest, but there was no time. The sky was darkening quickly, and though she was perfectly capable of traveling through the woods at night, it was only growing colder. Wrapping her arms around herself in a fruitless attempt to warm herself, she kept walking, following the stream as closely as she could.
Where are you hurrying to, Briar?
“Home, but I can’t stop to talk. It’s much too cold and I still have a long way to go.”
Tsk tsk! Walked too far, and without a shawl, on top of everything else!
“I’m sorry Ara. How are you? Shouldn’t you be in your den? Your young ones will be waiting for you.”
Oh, they’ll be well enough without me. I heard that you were still out and about. There was a soft rustling in the underbrush and a small, scaly form emerged from beneath a pile of fallen branches. I hate to leave you all alone, my dear. Would you like me to accompany you?
“Thank you, I’d like that,” she said. She bent down and let the snake wrap around her arm and settle around her shoulders.
How have you been lately? I’m sorry I haven’t had much time for visiting…it’s a busy season, you know…”
“Oh, of course! I actually would have stopped by too, but I fell ill last week with a cough.”
Poor thing. Did Naren help you?
“She’s been our hunting most of the time, but I managed by myself.”
Tut, tut! Leaving you all alone just to fill her stomach. She should have been satisfied with the prey that came into the house. I’ll have to have a word with her.
“Oh Ara, you worry too much. I was fine.”
I’m sure you were, dearie. Well, here you are. They had come to the clearing where Briar’s cottage stood.
The cottage was small and simply built, with a ragged garden in the back and a small shed to the side. The only vegetation that grew around the house was some scraggly moss interspersed with weeds. Briar didn’t know who had built it, neither did she remember when she had first come there. But it had been her home almost as far back as she could remember.
You take better care of yourself, now. It would be a fine thing if you caught a chill from this weather, said Ara. Have a good night!
“Thank you Ara, you too.” She smiled and half-ran up the path, eager for the light and warmth of a fire.
Unfortunately, there was no light or warmth to be spoken of in the cottage. At the moment. Shivering, she went to the hearth and poked at the embers there. Once there was a passable fire, she lit the lamps and settled down on the hearth, wrapping herself in a warm blanket.
Briar! Where have you been?!
Something tickled her arm beneath the blanket. Lifting it up, she picked up the speaker’s tiny form and set it down on the floor.
“Sorry, Naren,” she said. “I walked too far…Ara came back with me for some of the way, though.”
I’ve been worried sick. You know you still aren’t well!
“I’m fine, Naren.” She snuggled back into the blankets. “And I wish you all would stop clucking over me.”
As if we would cluck. How undignified. At any rate, it’s just…with autumn here and all…Naren paused. You know we worry about you. We can’t help it. You’re one of us.
“I know. It’s just…I don’t know. I just feel restless.” She lay down and propped her head up on one arm. “It’s the way it is every autumn. Something about it makes me wish for something…”
Naren was silent for a moment, and then changed the subject. You need to eat something, love. You’re not as healthy as you think you are. Do you want me to call Bron?
“No, I’d hate to disturb him at this hour. I’ll get something for myself.”
As long as you eat something. Briar could hear the warning tone in her voice. Your illness will come back if you’re not careful. And with that, she crawled off to the ceiling, looking for a place to build her next web come morning.
Briar could feel the beginnings of a gnawing in her stomach, but the hearth was so comfortable; surely enough, within a few minutes her eyelids began to droop, and then cottage was silent except for the crackling of the fire.

The village was alive. Not in a jubilant way, as on market-day or festival week, but in a soft, whispering way that gave everyone a nervous edge. People didn’t linger after dark, and kept the windows shut tightly, no matter how stuffy he house grew. The slightest sound would cause people to jump, and everyone was on edge as they made their preparations. For it was autumn, and that was the busy season.
The men were the only ones who would travel after dark, as if even they were ashamed to see their work by daylight. They hauled, sawed, and hammered by lamplight, almost convinced that they were in a dream. And perhaps they were. Women stayed shut up in the houses and made sure the youngest children were safely asleep, hoping that they wouldn’t notice a small lock of hair missing in the morning. The older children spun in solemn silence, knowing but not understanding the gravity of the task. As the night wore on, the women would listen for the hammering and sawing to stop. When their husbands finally returned, they would hurry to the door and rush them into the house, closing the door quickly.All felt a sense of unquiet urgency, and hurried to finish the dreaded tasks that were the price of safety.
But there was one house that seemed free from the spell cast over the rest of the town. It was a small house on the far side of the village, by the fields. It had an almost sad air about it, sitting under the open sky. There was a single light on in the house, making it the only place of warmth in the whole town. Inside, a woman sat, gazing out at the moon over the woods. In her lap was a blanket. It was not there for warmth; indeed, it did not even cover her, for it was far too small. It was for a child, an as she stroked it absently, she could not help but shed a tear. Far above, the stars and moon seemed to join her in her sorrow, as they shone on the forest below.

When Briar awoke, it was not yet light outside, but it was the sort of parturient darkness that signaled the coming of dawn. The fire was dying in the hearth beside her.
She freed herself from the blanket and dragged herself over to the fire to prod the embers once again. She was ravenously hungry; perhaps she should have eaten something last night. She put yesterday’s pot of vegetable soup back on the fire and went to the washbasin.
Good morning, love. Briar heard Naren’s voice from the nearest corner of the ceiling. Did you sleep well?
“Yes, very well.” She scrubbed at her skin. The water was freezing, there was even a thin film of ice on it. Still, it helped to wake her up.
By now the sky was growing lighter, and she could hear the first feeble birdcalls coming from outside. After drying herself off and pulling on her clothes, she went to the window. There was a jay there, looking at her inquisitively.
Morning…leaves…grou…
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I won’t be able to hear you.”
There…village…you?
She stretched out her hand, but it hopped a few paces and flew away.
Don’t feel bad, child. They don’t remember much. Naren crawled toward her on the windowsill. And I think they understand. You have been a part of these woods for years and years, after all.
“I know.” She sighed, and went to get the pot off the fire.

Once the dawn came, doors tentatively began to open. The townspeople went about their chores, hurrying past their neighbors with nothing more than a few muttered greetings. No one dared speak of the previous night’s proceedings. As the day wore on, the spell was finally lifted, and people felt bold enough to laugh, even—but there was still a shadow over the village that checked their words.
Mid-morning, there was a rare disturbance in the town. The sound of hooves on the dirt road running right through the middle of the town heralded the arrival of a young man, dusty and travel-worn. The village, while not entirely remote, never got very many visitors aside from market days, so the townspeople caused a bit of a fuss, using his arrival as an excuse to forget the gnawing at the back of their minds.
“What’s his name?”
“Aden. He’s a young fellow. Don’t know what his business is here, though.” A small cluster of people had gathered on the green, dallying on the way to their errands.
“Perhaps he’s on the run.”
“Aren’t you a quick one to be judging, Shara! All are honest until proven otherwise. Perhaps he’s just stopping over for the night.”
“On the way to where, exactly? You know that this town isn’t on any routes at all, Ronar. And there are plenty of inns by the road.”
“Well, why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s right over there.”
And sure enough, the youth was attending to his horse at the nearby stables, watching the crowd bemusedly. Immediately, everyone pretended not to have noticed; unfortunately for them, he decided to walk over and join them.
“Good day,” he said. “Lovely morning, isn’t it? I’m glad I stopped in this town. I haven’t met with such hospitality in a long time.”
Some of the group smiled awkwardly. Ronar gave Shara a meaningful look, and she looked awkwardly down at her shoes.
“So, what brings you here?” Ronar asked.
“Oh, I’m just stopping over for the night.”
Ronar gave Shara another look. She scoffed.
“So…what is your business here? Not that I mean to offend you,” she added hurriedly. “It’s just…we don’t get many visitors, so we don’t usually have much to gossip about.” She smiled and twisted her hands; she hadn’t actually seen him before this.
“Right,” the baker snorted. “Because that’s the way you spend most of your time; not gossiping.” The others chuckled. Shara turned even redder and excused herself.
“Well, I hope you have a pleasant stay, my boy,” said Ronar, giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Where is it that you’re headed to tomorrow?”
“Oh, just back to the road. I pretty much go wherever it takes me,” he replied, returning Ronar’s smile. “I don’t like to stay in one place for too long.”
“Ah, well, you take good care of yourself. If I don’t see you before you leave, have a safe journey.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Aden. “Well, I must go and have a bit of rest. I hope I will see you.” And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the inn.
After the momentary distraction, dark thoughts returned to the minds of the townspeople. Hopefully, this stranger would not interfere with their work.
There was another house that was set apart from the village, on the side towards the forest. Here too, lived a woman, a woman much respected by the townspeople. And much feared, too, for she was very powerful. Her name was Hana, and she was a mage.
It was this woman who watched over the proceedings every year, during the busy season. She told the men the exact location in which to build, she told the mothers exactly which children needed to be protected, and every year, it was she who ran the ceremony at the edge of the wood.
Many years ago, she had come to this town, sensing discord. There was a problem, they told her. There was a child, a child with unnatural abilities. Not magic. Magic was familiar; they knew magic. This was different. It was unlike anything they had seen. The child had been born to a woman whose husband had left her while the child was still inside of her mother’s womb. In fact, he had left the town. Before he went, he condemned his wife and unborn child, calling her a witch, saying that he would have nothing to do with a demon-child. And when the baby was born, only Hana was there to help the mother birth her child. None of the other townspeople would come to help.
She helped the mother raise the growing infant. The young mother often fell ill after her pregnancy, and no one else would care for her at first. She gradually convinced the townspeople that the child was not evil; her magic was just strong for her age. Once she had grown a little older, she would be able to control it just fine, she told them.
Still, the townspeople would get annoyed. On market days, carts of vegetables would be toppled and tents pulled down by the unwitting child. Sometimes livestock would grow rowdy every time she walked past them; they seemed to always flock to her, causing a ruckus when she paraded down the street with a trail of chickens and sheep following her.
After several town gatherings, the village decided that it would best if the child was kept in the house. Hana agreed to this, telling the mother that it would be best if the child stay mostly at home until she was a little older. Then, she said, she could begin to be taught to control her powers. It would be all right in the end.
But indeed, the townspeople had been right, for the child’s magic wasn’t like anything they had ever seen. It was something different. However, it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Hana. She had heard tell of such things, but only as distant legend.
Soon, the child grew older, but the strange things did not stop. When the girl was about six years old, the people of the village had finally had enough. It was a strange incident that decided her fate.
It was market-day, and a few strangers had arrived to set up stalls; a rare occurrence, but not uncommon, certainly. The mother had set up a booth of her own, to sell a few vegetables and handmade goods. She let the child roam free while she did business. The girl went from stall to stall, without anything unusual happening. The sellers of the village held their breath, for things had a habit of taking a disastrous turn when she was around; it had happened less often as the child aged, but they were still wary.
Sure enough, there was a shriek, and a cart of apples went flying. Baskets were strewn about the street, from the booth of a woman who had come from out of town. Lying in one of them, curled up, was a small snake.
After the initial cries, there was a silence. The townspeople gave each other solemn, knowing looks, while the woman looked completely furious.
“You there, child! Did you knock into my apples?”
“Um…no ma’am…not exactly…”
“What do you mean, not exactly?! Either you did or you didn’t, you miserable child!”
“She didn’t mean it.” Hana didn’t usually come to market; in fact, she usually kept to her cottage at the edge of the village and the surrounding meadows. But now she rushed to the girl’s defense.
“I don’t give a hog’s backside in the sky what she meant to do, I want to be compensated for this mess!” the woman yelled. The woman hadn’t noticed the snake slithering around her feet.
“Don’t get upset, ma’am,” said another villager who had stepped forward. “She’s an odd child, and…things happen from time to time. But it’s not her fault. As for your goods, you’ll be compensated accordingly.”
But the woman was not to be sated. “What on earth are you talking about?! When someone’s property is ruined, they have a right to know who’s to blame! And I say that whether the girl meant to or not, she’s a right little brat for not coming out and admitting to it.” The woman stepped forward. “And all of you cads, going along with the whole thing! Why, if you were my own child I’d—“
It looked as if the woman was about to hit the girl, but she never got the chance. The snake that had been curled up in the basket sank its teeth into her heel, and with a  cry of shock she sank to the ground.
Several people ran to assist her. But then a hush fell over them, and everyone turned to look at the girl. The snake had crawled towards her and was circling around and around her feet. Her mother ran forward.
“No!”
“Hush, Lenar…” Hana held her back. Everyone watched, petrified.
The snake came to rest in front of her. Then it reared its head and lifted itself towards her. Some villagers later commented that it seemed to be looking her right in the eye. They stayed like this, the snake and the child, for some time. Then the reptile lowered its head, as if bowing to the child, and turned away, slithering away into a clump of tall grasses at the edge of the square.
The crowd was silent for a minute. Then the quiet was broken by a small moan from the woman who had been bitten. All at once, everyone seemed to come back to life. There was a great bustle as a group of people swarmed about her.
“Bring her to my house,” said Hana. “I will attend to her.”
The woman shook her head faintly. “No,” she whispered. “Not…no.”
Hana hesitated. “Very well, then.” And then she turned and headed across the meadows, towards her home.
“Take her to the inn! Reya can see her there.” Two men carried her between them, and soon she was gone to see the healer, and there was nothing but an awkward silence in the square.
The child suddenly burst into tears. Her mother ran to console her, while the townspeople looked on warily.
They had learned to live, for the most part, with the girl’s oddities; they were mostly harmless anyway, more irritating than dangerous. But now, things were different. This was the first time that anyone had been seriously hurt. Who knew if the snake that had bitten the woman was venomous or not? What if she were killed? What then? A small, invisible circle had formed around the mother and child that seemed to repel the crowd; no one wanted to go near, for fear of what else might happen.
The woman died later than night. Whispers flitted through the village like locusts, and by morning, the townspeople seemed to have reached a decision.
Hana looked out of her cottage, waiting for the dawn, when she knew the townspeople would arrive on Lenar’s doorstep. But she had a plan.
Briar made her way through the familiar main paths of the wood, reveling in the clarity and brightness of the morning. It was unusually warm, but she had brought a shawl anyway, just in case.
She had finished gathering, her morning task. Now she had a few hours to enjoy herself before going home and going back to her chores. She came to the stream and sat down, watching the water go by.
She had lived here almost all her life. She remembered some sort of life before this, but it was only in small flashes of memory. And while the two pasts were distinct, she couldn’t remember how she had gotten to this place, no matter how hard she tried. The farthest she could recall was finding the cottage, and Naren. (There had been many other spiders there, but they had offered to move out of the cottage, despite her insistence that they need not go anywhere.) This was where she had grown up, with the help of various inhabitants of the forest. They could not really help her with her chores, of course, but they seem to have come across other people before and knew their ways of surviving. They told her which berries and plants to gather, where to find the freshest water, and what she needed to do to prepare for winter. She could never have survived without their help. She didn’t eat anything from animals (it never crossed her mind) except for the eggs that fell from birds’ nests in the spring. A frog had once told her that the birds pushed them out of the nest when they did not hatch, and Ara had told her that humans cooked and ate them. So she would gather them, rather than having them go to waste.
Of course, she could not ask the birds why they would push their own eggs out of the nest. She could not comfort the deer when she came across them, looking at her with their frightened eyes before they ran away from her. She could not get within four feet of a rabbit before it bounded away without saying a word. She could only reach very small animals, and some types of bugs. Snakes, frogs, squirrels even, and of course the spiders. The spiders were her very closest friends. Other bugs were harder to reach. She could get to beetles, and larger insects, not all of which she knew the names of. Moths sometimes. Never butterflies. Sometimes she could hear them, but it would be very faint, as if they were wasting away with the effort.
And then there was the forest itself. She could remember, in her other life, a world where there were other people. But here there were none. She had looked all over the woods and explored them ever since she first came to live in them (at least, as far as she could remember), and yet, there had been no one there. She knew every part of the forest. And yet, she had never found a way out. Sometimes she thought that she had dreamed the other life, that this was all there was to the world. It was all there was in her world. But there was something about those memories, something that told her that they were real. And there was a part of her that wanted to go back to that place, maybe to see more of it, see all the people and places there were to see in that world…
That was the feeling she got every autumn, and she didn’t know why.
The end of the day was drawing near, and as the sunlight faded from the treetops, the townspeople started giving each other questioning looks. What would they do about this stranger? He might interfere with their work. Surely he would ask questions.
They resolved to make sure he didn’t find out. Ronar, who was something of an unofficial leader of the town, sent his young daughter and her friend to Suri, the innkeeper. They would be less suspicious, and they would propose the plan.
Just before sunset, they made it to the back door of the inn, where the inn’s large kitchen was located. Sure enough, Suri and her little son were there, along with several other kitchen assistants, preparing the night’s dinner not only for their one guest, but for the tavern next to the inn that was owned and run by Suri’s brother and his wife. They opened the door and poked their heads in.
“Suri! Suri, over here!”
The innkeeper looked up. “Bella? Sailai? What is it?”
They looked behind them nervously, and then beckoned to her. “We have to talk to you. My father sent us,” said Bella.
Suri handed a wooden spoon to her son. “Take this and keep stirring. And watch where you put your hands, a fine thing it would be if you burned one of them off! Then I’d have to actually hire an assistant and pay them!” The child grumbled and kept watch over the pot, grudgingly stirring.
Outside, the innkeeper bent down to speak with the two girls. “What is it? Do they have a plan?”
“Yes. But they wanted us to ask first whether you know what types of plants can make someone fall asleep.”
“Ahh. Yes, I do.” She leaned back against the wall of the inn, looking thoughtful. “They want me to drug him, is that it?”
The girls looked at each other. “Essentially,” said Sailai. “But he says to make sure that it’s strong enough to keep him asleep through the whole night, even through all the sawing and hammering. And also, he wants you to make sure that the dosage is small enough that he wakes up early, so he doesn’t suspect that you drugged him.”
“Let me see…There’s tallmonk, but that can be poisonous…Lechen leaves a horrible taste, it would be obvious…I’ll use bogweed, I think. In his dinner. He shouldn’t notice. It’s indistinguishable from mint once it’s been chopped up, let alone cooked. Tell your father that I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, I will,” said Bella.
“Now, run along. You wouldn’t want to be stuck out here after dark. Besides, I’m sure your mothers need your help.” She needn’t have said anything. Almost before she was done speaking, the two girls had bounded off into the lengthening shadows towards home.
Suri turned and went back inside. The minute she did, a window upstairs clicked shut.
Aden let out the breath he had been holding, but was afraid to breathe too loud, lest they somehow hear him. What was this town? What were they hiding? It seemed that they did not want to hurt him, just put him to sleep, but he still didn’t like it. Well, all he had to do was make sure not to eat anything the woman served him. That seemed easy enough. He hoped they wouldn’t suspect that he had overheard their plan. Perhaps he was being silly. Maybe they weren’t talking about him at all.
The innkeeper had told him that dinner would be served right before the sun went down. He looked outside. It was that time now. Sure enough, there was a knock on the door.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. Dinner is ready, if you’d like it.”
Thinking quickly, and fairly certain now that he was the target of the plan,s he went to the door and opened it, trying his best to look tired (fortunately, it wasn’t hard to pull off at the moment). “Thank you ma’am,” he said, but I’m exhausted from travel. I was just about to turn in when you came to the door. You don’t mind if I maybe skip dinner and just say goodnight? It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen an actual bed.” Not exactly a lie.
“Nonsense. You’ll need your strength. Come down.”
Even though she was trying to drug him, he did not want to offend her. “Honestly, ma’am, I don’t mean to offend you by rejecting your hospitality, but I barely made it to the door.” As he spoke, he realized that he was very tired. He wondered, with a fleeting moment of alarm, if he had already been drugged somehow, but remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything not from his own rations.
She paused. It seemed that she was thinking desperately. “Well…suit yourself,” she said, after a while. “If there’s anything you need, just call for me or one of the assistants.”
“Thank you ma’am, I will,” he replied, although he had no intention of taking anything from the inn that night.
He closed the door and laid back down on the bed, closing his eyes. They had been talking about him. Well, he had avoided the drugged food, and he really was very tired. He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when he heard a door slam and footsteps on the street outside. Something seemed wrong, although he was not sure exactly what. He was up in an instant, and peered out of the window.
It was Suri. She was walking across the town green with an agitated gait, twisting her apron nervously in her hands. She knocked on the door of one of the larger houses. Aden carefully slid the window open and hid to the side of the window, hoping that the wind was blowing the right way to let him hear their conversation and hoping that he could not be seen from the street.
As he suspected, the man named Ronar from earlier answered the door. He had gotten the impression earlier that Ronar was an important man in the town, and the girls had said that this was his plan. Unfortunately, he could not hear a word of their conversation. Suri gestured towards his window. He ducked down again. When he looked up again, Ronar was looking right at him. His heart jumped out of his chest. No, not directly at him, he realized. He was looking at his window. But the next second, they both turned and began to walk briskly towards the inn.
His heart jolted, and all fatigue left him in an instant. Ronar had his hand in his jacket, as if holding something. Aden knew that the people of this town were not violent, he knew that they would not hurt him, if given the choice, but he had seen what people would do to protect their secrets. Even people like them, in a seemingly peaceful, hospitable town…but he shook this thought from his head. Something had to be done.
He went to the window on the adjacent wall and opened it to see how far the drop was. It wasn’t too far. He had also been told that he was the only guest here at the inn, so he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him in the room below.
He heard voices outside; he had to hurry. He hurried to the foot of the bed and grabbed his pack, strapped it on, and then hurried back to the window. He lowered himself down and then dropped down. Then he ran, stumbling a bit from the fall. He didn’t know where he would go, only that he had to hide. He had a bad feeling about the villagers that he couldn’t explain.
There was just a little bit of light left, enough to keep the sky form being completely black, but not enough to see by. He ran behind the buildings, hoping that no one would see him or catch him. However, he met no one on the way. He remembered what Suri had told the girls. “Now, run along. You wouldn’t want to be stuck out here after dark. Besides, I’m sure your mothers need your help.” Obviously, they were going to drug him because there was something they were doing at night. “Even through the sawing and hammering”…what did that mean? What was it that they didn’t want strangers to know?
He reached the forest and kept to its edge, staying in the shadows. He ran towards the meadows, where he hoped he could circle around and reach the road again before it got too dark. Then he would have to travel by night until he was safely away from the town, and then he would just have to camp again. He sighed. He had been so close to sleeping in an actual bed. With pillows and everything.
By now it was pretty much dark. He could hear some sort of disturbance in the village, but it didn’t sound like it was just coming from the inn. He saw a line of people coming towards the forest, carrying tools. The sawing and hammering. They looked very somber, their faces set, and they did not talk to each other. With a start, he noticed that they were coming right at the place he was hiding. He quickly kept moving. If only he could—
“You must be the one they’re all looking for.”
He turned around, heart racing. There was a woman standing there. She was not young, but not elderly, though there were lines in her face that were perhaps a bit before their time. She had long, light brown hair that was bound in cords, and a simple dress. Her whole appearance was startlingly clean against the backdrop of the tangled wood. She looked at him kindly; sadly, in a way, and in her hands she held a basket of leaves and seemingly dead plants.
“Don’t worry,” she said, after his silence. “I can help you. I live away from the village; they don’t pay any attention to me. You’ll be safe with me.”
He thought. If he did not go with this woman, he had a long and arduous journey ahead of him. He had no energy; he had not eaten lunch or dinner and his rations were getting low. He studied her carefully. She certainly did not seem to be lying, and there was something about her expression that made him want to trust her.
“Come,” she said, and turned away towards the meadows.
He followed her. From here, there was a small hill that partly sheltered much of fields from view of the village. He could see a small cottage in the distance, just as she had said.
“My name is Lenar, by the way,” she said.
“I’m Aden.”
She smiled, but said nothing. It was much easier to see out in the open fields, where the moon was brighter. Here, he also saw that the woods, which he had thought were small, also extended all the way around the fields.
They came to Lenar’s cottage, which was indeed as small as it had looked from far away. There were a few chickens roaming around outside of it (with not chicken coop to be seen) and a paltry cow. Still, it was peacefully quiet, and Aden almost began to feel his tiredness returning at the sight.
“Come inside,” said Lenar. “You look exhausted. You can stay here for the night, and I’ll get you something to eat.” She led him inside and seated him at a small table, and then put a pot of something on the fire.
“I’m sorry it’s so cramped in here,” she said, setting the basket down on a counter. “I haven’t had a visitor in years.” She bustled about, getting dishes and cups and a pitcher of something, all of which were set down on the table a moment later. She poured fresh water into his cup. “Drink,” she said.
He drank. It was the best water he had ever tasted. It had a different taste to it, something deep and invigorating. He immediately felt better. He felt even better when a bowl of steaming stew was set in front him with a thick slice of bread.
Lenar got a bowl for herself. “Oh, don’t wait for me,” she said, cutting herself some bread. “Eat. You look exhausted.”
He was all to eager to comply. They ate in silence for a while. Aden examined the inside of the cottage while he ate. It was tiny, but it looked comfortable. The most striking thing about the cottage was the number of plants in it. There were plants growing in pots, sprigs of greens lying about on tables, and sprays of dried plants hanging from the ceiling. There were three rooms, each of them very tiny; he could see that one of them was a spinning room, but the door to the other one was closed. The whole house was comfortably disheveled, but tidy, for the most part, and very clean. Aden felt his eyelids begin to droop.
He finished his stew, then the bread, and then gulped down he last of his water. He didn’t know why he trusted this strange woman, why he was accepting food and drink from her when only an hour or so ago he had almost been drugged.
She was still not finished, but she saw that he was done and spoke. “Do you feel better?” she asked.
“Much better, thank you,” he replied. There was an awkward pause.
“Would you be able to answer some questions for me? About the village?”
She did not look up, but stirred her stew around in her bowl thoughtfully. “It depends on what they are. It is not that I wish to withhold information from you, it’s just that…well, I don’t know the whole truth of it myself.” She put the spoon down. “They didn’t try to harm you, did they?”
“Would they?” he asked.
“Perhaps, if all else failed,” she replied. “They wouldn’t want to, but they do a lot of things they don’t want to do, for the sake of their own safety.”
“They tried to drug me,” he said. “They only wanted to put me to sleep, but still, I…I didn’t like the idea of it. Then, when I refused to eat, the innkeeper went to find a man—Ronar—and I saw them coming towards the inn, so I got away and ran.”
She nodded. “They probably wouldn’t have harmed you. Not if Ronar was in charge. But it’s still good that you got away.” She tore off a piece of bread. “It’s not healthy to be around them this time of year. Their unease can spread…That’s one reason I like being here, especially during the busy season.”
“The—what?”
She swallowed. “Listen.”
She looked to the window, and he strained his ears to hear. He knew what he was hearing the second before he actually heard it: sawing and hammering. He could hear it faintly, muffled by the distance. The sounds were coming from the general direction of the forest.
“They’re preparing for the ceremony,” she said quietly. “They do it every year, around autumn. Everyone helps prepare, save for the very young children.” She saw that Aden looked confused. Well, how could be not be? she thought, and sighed. “I live away from the town, here in the meadows. But I’m not the only one. Do you remember seeing another small house, on the other side of the village, set back against the woods?”
“I do remember seeing something up there. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”
Lenar took a long draught from the cup of water in front of her, and then set it back down, looking contemplative.“ The woman who lives there is a mage,” she said, “who came to this town years ago. She isn’t seen among the village anymore. People only visit when they’re in serious need of a healer, and only under cover of night. And of course, they see her at the ceremony. She’s the one who sets the magics in motion there.
There was a pause as she took another long sip of water. Aden took the opportunity to ask the obvious. “But this ceremony, what is it that it’s protecting the town from? This town isn’t anywhere near the major roadways, and it doesn’t seem as though anyone would want to attack it…Why does it need protection?”
She set the cup own again and sighed. It’s not as though I didn’t expect to be asked, she thought to herself.
“I will tell you,” she said, “as long as you do not ask any more questions about what I tell you. There are certain parts of this story that are hard for me to tell, especially to a stranger, and there are also things that I just don’t know. I hope you understand.”
“Yes,”Aden said. “I do.”
She cradled the cup in her hands, not looking up at him, and began.
“The mage’s name is Hana. I had only been in this village for a few years when she arrived. At that time, there was a woman in this village who was with child. But there was something wrong with the unborn baby. Odd things would happen, things that never happened before she became pregnant. It wasn’t magic…No one knew what it was. People kept finding frogs and snakes all over town…there were spiders everywhere…things would fall when no one had touched them…The incidents were harmless enough, but the townspeople were still spooked enough that no one would help her when it came time for the baby to be born. Only Hana came to assist her. She said that the child was magic, but a kind of magic that she had only heard of in distant tales and legends. She promised that when the child grew older, she would be able to teach her how to control it. The villagers were satisfied with the explanation, for the time being. They allowed the child and her mother to stay in the town, although they eventually were forced, by public pressure, to move to its outskirts. They were still welcomed by the town, mostly due to Hana’s word. But one day, there was an incident where a woman was killed by a poisonous snake bite because of the girl. The townspeople went to the mother’s house and told her that she had to leave, and take the child with her…They were almost to the point of removing her forcibly from the town when Hana came. She placated the mob and told them that she had an idea that would provide for the child, while allowing the mother to stay. The child’s mother protested, of course, but no one paid any attention to her pleas. Before she knew it, her child’s fate was decided.
“But later, after the crowd had all gone, Hana talked with the mother. She told her that the girl would not be hurt, that she would be well taken care of until her magic matured, if her plan were followed. And she promised the woman that one day, she could see her child again. The mother reluctantly consented, and they carried out Hana’s plan.
“For four days they prepared. These were Hana’s instructions; build a fence in the woods, she said, as far as the trees bordered the town. Then take a few strands of hair from everyone living in the town and spin it with flax into a rope. She told them to come get her when they had finished this task, and she would take care of the rest.
“Fortunately enough, they were already building a fence in the woods, to keep the livestock from running away (it was probably her inspiration for the idea as well). They worked all day, from morning to late into the night. Finally, they were finished. They went to Hana’s cottage, and she waited until nightfall.
‘Now, this is the part of the story that I can’t fill in for you. I’ve never attended the ceremony and Hana would never tell me exactly what goes on at them. All I know is that the child was banished to the forest, where she would be safe and the townspeople would be safe from her. And that’s why they hold this ceremony. Every year, they build a fence in the woods, and spin locks of hair into a rope, and that’s all I know. And they’ve been doing it for nine years.”
She took a final draught from her cup, draining it, and set it down, staring into it. Aden thought about everything she had said. It seemed fairly obvious to him that she was the woman in the story, the one whose child has caused so much strife in the town. His heart went out to her, and he was grateful that she had shared the story even though it obviously caused her pain. But such an odd story…He had never heard of anything like this happening anywhere. Sure, most towns had
“So…What happens now? Do I wait until morning to leave, or should I leave while they’re all at this ceremony?”
“No! You can’t leave now. It would be dangerous; it’s too near the forest. I have a room where you can stay for the night. It will be much safer.”
He wanted to argue, but decided against it, disarmed by her concern.  “Thank you,” he simply said.
“Here, I’ll show you to—“ but she never finished her sentence, because it was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.
Her eyes widened. She got up and shoved him into the spinning room. “Don’t make a sound,” she said in a low voice.
Lenar shut the door and hurried to the door, where whoever it was was still knocking. “Coming!” she shouted.
It was Ronar, as she expected, along with a woman who she realized with a shock was Suri, the innkeeper’s daughter. The last time she had seen the girl, she was about 13 years old.
“Good evening, Lenar,” he said, almost awkwardly. “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour.”
“Shouldn’t you be making the final preparations for the ceremony?”
“Well…yes, but you see…” She smiled inwardly. How dare he just come here and pretend as though this night didn’t rip her heart out every year?
“Look, Lenar, he began. “We need to find someone. There was a young man who was staying at the inn, and…well…he’s gone, and we don’t want him out tonight. It…it could be dangerous for him.”
“Really?” she asked. “What did do, try to drug him and find his room empty?” she crossed her arms defiantly. “Why don’t you just go, Ronar. And you, too, Suri. Say hello to your mother for me, although I doubt she’d give two gold about it.”
“I’m s-sorry ma’am…s-she passed away years ago…”
There was an awkward silence. “I’m sorry,” said Lenar quietly. “But please leave, both of you. Don’t pretend that you’re welcome here.”
Suri looked down at her feet. Ronar stood in silence for a moment, and then opened his mouth as if to say something, but all of a sudden there was a loud creak from the other room.
“What was that?” asked Ronar.
“Don’t come in,” said Lenar firmly.
“Lenar, I know how you feel about this, but it’s for the sake of our safety! You have to understand!
“I do understand,” she said. “But I don’t have to like it. Get out.”
But Ronar pushed past her into the cottage. Suri hesitated, then turned and fled.
Lenar managed to hold him back.“No Ronar!!” she yelled. “I let you take her away, you have no right to ask anything more of me!!” She cast about for something to fight with. A nearby jar sufficed, and se hit him over the head with it.
“Damn it Lenar!” He yelled, not expecting it. After a struggle, he broke away and flung the door of the room open.
It was empty. There was no one there, and the window was ajar.
Lenar sighed. “Will you leave now?”

Aden fled through the woods. He couldn’t find the path in the dark, and the leaves obscured the stars, so he had no way of finding his direction by them. He ran blindly, wondering how it was that he had been settling down to a comfortable bed only hours ago, and was now fleeing for his life. And he was doing far more jumping out of windows than he would have liked.
All of a sudden he could see the shape of something in the dark. It was the fence, as Lenar had described. It went as far as he could see in either direction (admittedly, it was not that far), but it was far less impressive than he had imagined. It was only about four or five feet high, no taller than any ordinary barnyard fence. He jumped over it easily; there was little about it that suggested any fearsome magical danger.
All of a sudden a shock ran through him, beginning at his feet when the moment they touched the ground, and spreading through his entire body until he felt faint.  I suppose it was a little stupid to do that, when I’d been explicitly told that was magic, he thought. And that there’s a dangerous magical being in here. He sat for a few minutes, breathing heavily as a wave of nausea overtook him. Gradually the shock went away, and so did ill feeling. He got up and walked as quickly as he could (he no longer trusted himself to run) away from the fence, assuming that people would be arriving soon for the mysterious “ceremony”.  Luckily enough, the trees thinned out a little in this part of the woods, and though he still could not see the stars, enough moonlight filtered through the leaves overhead that he could see more easily.
He tried to follow the direction of the fence as best he could, in what he hoped was a direction going away from the village. He could hear voices, but despite the moonlight, the darkness was enough to hide him; or so he hoped. They grew fainter and fainter as he walked on, which he took as a sign that he was heading in the right direction.
All of a sudden he felt a sharp pain in his right leg. He collapsed instantly, groaning. He saw a dark shape slither away into the shadows. A snake. Damn, he thought. There was no way to know if the thing was poisonous. With a sudden jolt of realization, he remembered the story Lenar had told him…
MAH NOVEL.

1. This will be split into a few parts, more forthcoming.
2. I didn't edit it yet. I kept telling myself I'd make it all pretty for dA, but I'm a lazy Lucy. :cry:
3. Two characters speak in italics: Ara and Naren. Unfortunately, since I am lazy (see #2), and the HTML doesn't carry over from Word, I've only done tags on a few of their lines. I don't think it's too hard to follow without the tags, but just know that I didn't forget to put the quotations, I'm just too lazy to wade through 70+ pages.

NaNo novels are written in a month, every November. They must be at least 50,000 words (technically a novella, but hey, they're still cool).
For more info on NaNoWriMo, please visit: [link]
© 2007 - 2024 EricaVee
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artist-for-rent's avatar
I rather enjoyed it! My eyes are burning for staring at the screen, but I would REALLY like to see the next part!

Congrats! :clap: