It took only a few days for my father to secure a position for me at the mine. Although I was set upon securing myself financially for the sake of my family and to have some sense of power in my life, those lingering days seemed as if I was completely giving up on myself. My mother, unsurprisingly, was angry with my decision, yet I came to accept that no matter what I chose to do in my life, I was never going to appease her always changing expectations. Reluctantly, she helped alter some of my father’s old leather trousers for me to wear, and secured a pair of working boots from a neighbor. On the day I would enter the mine, I felt terrified, nervous, and incredibly sick to my stomach.

  My father and I walked through the narrow streets together in the early hours of the morning while the lamplighters were only just beginning to extinguish the lanterns in the city. For a moment, I thought about securing such a mundane job, but my father quickly said that it was heavily underpaid.

  “They all are—that is why the mine is the best option for anyone who has a head upon their shoulder,” my father said as others joined us upon the path. It was like a parade of gloom—no one smiled, dark circles appeared under everyone’s eyes, and it was like marching into a horrible future I would inevitably be chained to for the rest of my life.

  Upon entering the cave entrance upheld by creaking wooden beams, we walked through the excavated tunnels that eventually opened up into a large cavern. There were large furnaces for smelting ore, giant carts for transporting objects, and a terrible stifling air that worsened the sickening feeling in my stomach. The mine was the opposite of what I enjoyed in life. Everyone was sad, appearing depleted of life first thing in the morning.

  My father introduced me to a bearded man named Dolin who quickly gave me a pair of work goggles and a thick leather belt used to carry tools when necessary. I was quickly informed that I would be working in excavation, digging new tunnels, and working closely with a team under the leader Timbo.

  The leader, whom I expected to be somewhat—well, leader like—was cruel and angry all the time, crushing all hope of ever finding someone in power to be kind. Alas, my experiences from the past were nothing but luck of innocence.

  Timbo immediately sneered after Dolin presented me as the new team member, as if I were suddenly more of a burden than the heavy rocks I was expected to carry. There were two other women, Mira and Aro, who were much older than me, which, it seemed, many of the workers were far older than me anyway, including another man named David, but a young man named Jamie who was immediately friendly to me, although somewhat too talkative in my opinion. While everyone else was grumpy and angry, Jamie was cheerful, sometimes too happy first thing in the morning, always inflicting a low roar of mumbling as we trudged together as a team through the excavation tunnels.

  If everyone’s disdain of my sudden presence wasn’t alarming enough, the entire set up was worse, for it was difficult for me to understand the obligations without proper guidance. It was unlike my studies in the past where my mentors would instruct me, then observe my work immediately. In the mines, the leader Timbo expected me to just know how to work, and I stumbled my way through like the tumbling rocks pouring from the carts being dumped into shafts.

  Despite my best efforts to learn from observation alone, I obviously made mistakes by sorting ore in the wrong carts, which, eventually, caused others to verbally instruct my obligations. Initially, I’d hope it was out of pity or a change of heart of watching me struggle. Turns out, after hearing some team members gossip, they simply were avoiding future disasters of sending the wrong ores by my mistakes alone, which, naturally, would only cause them problems.

  In addition, I kept forgetting my way back to our designated excavation site, losing my way around the labyrinth of dark tunnels that no one really taught me how to properly navigate. I had asked for a map, but was simply laughed at, for that was only given to those in surveil teams. Every mistake that wasn’t caught by the other team members was reprimanded from my group leader, and I quickly became resentful of him and his cruel tongue and lack of consideration of my situation.

  But, mostly, the festering resentment of the mine was also directed at myself as I knew I had chosen this new life for myself in the hopes to secure some sense of power and control over my hard but sorrowful life.

  In the midst of the darkness of my changed world, I grasped onto what little joy I had, which was meeting with Sable in the meadow and spending time in the forest gathering plants during their growing season. I didn’t know how I would manage meeting Sable with the inconsistencies of my work requirements, but the beginning of winter was nearly upon us and I would spend that time adjusting to my new life and figure out a solution to secure our visitation, knowing how much I desperately wanted to continue seeing Sable when time would allow it.

  However, regardless of my buried desires and overbearing work, the depths of self-resentment were difficult to evade, no matter how much I wanted to pretend it didn’t exist.

  “I started my job, working with my father,” I told Sable as we sat together. I pulled apart some leaves of a plant I had picked on my way through the forest, recognizing its feathery leaves, but forgettably losing its proper name from my memory. I had begun to forget the complex names of plants, especially since I relied heavily on Jadis and the notes I had taken within my notebook, causing me to regret not being more studious to memorization.

  “Really?” he asked while raising his eyebrows. “Don’t you already work a lot?”

  “Yeah, for sure,” I said, scoffing. “That’s my life, Sable. Never ending work. It never stops and I will work, and work and work—until I die.”

  “Okay.” He slightly frowned, but did not ask any further questions, although I wished he had, or at least attempted to make me feel better. I eyed his resting figure, and wondered if he would always be so disconnected from my life, living free as a bird up on the mountains, never a care in the world beyond the rituals of a Teragane.

  “What do you do during winter?” I asked, changing the subject in hopes to evade further resentment, and began placing the feathery leaves and white flower buds into my wicker basket.

  “Nothing.”

  “What about the ritual?”

  “Oh, yeah. The Sage will visit me for the ritual.”

  “And?”

  “I get my tattoo.” Sable scrunched his nose, his eyes looking up as he thought for a moment.

  “Okay. Is that really all you do for months on end?”

  “Uh—yes. There isn’t anything else to do.”

  “Lucky.” My eyes narrowed as the unavoidable feeling of jealousy rose in my chest. Sable blinked in realization of something he did not elaborate and his eyes darted around. I sensed his mind racing with thoughts, perhaps something I wouldn’t understand anyway.

  I can’t believe he can just sit around and do nothing all winter long! It’s not fair!

  “I don’t feel lucky,” he finally said, his frown still upon his saddened face.

  “Well, at least you don’t have to work, and you can just catch your food or fly wherever you want, or do whatever you want anytime of the day. Go where you please, hangout and do nothing all day.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You just said you do nothing all winter.” My voice was growing cruel, and I looked away as Sable’s innocent eyes gazed upon me, obviously sensing my change of demeanor.

  “It’s not really anything to be envious about.”

  “Envious?” I scoffed, then rose to my feet, no longer desiring to be near him as the emotions were turning more sour than I wanted as the winds picked up the crispness of early signs of winter. “I need to go.”

  “So soon? The sun has yet to pass over the cedar trees.”

  “Yeah, well, I have too much work and need to go.” I tightened the cloak around my shoulders, and began thrusting the empty napkins into my basket as Sable stood up and moved off the blanket. I picked it up, shaking it off and he simply watched me as I stuffed it into my basket, then swung it over my back and secured the leather straps.

  “Have a safe winter,” I said. A sudden urge to sneer about how unlike him, I had all winter to work, but I held my tongue from lashing out while he helplessly stared at me with twitching wings. I remembered how it felt whenever my mother talked to me in such a way. How hurtful those words felt, like a knife piercing my heart, turning my love away from her.

  As I lifted my eyes while gripping the straps of my basket upon my back, I allowed my festering heart to soften for the boy who hardly knew what it was like living in the city with a thousand obligations. He was disconnected from my world—how could he know anything else?

  “I mean that,” I said, softening my voice. “I hope your winter is safe and your ritual goes well with the Sage.”

  “Thank you, Lillie,” he said shifting his position, his wings rustling in the cold winds. “I hope you also have a safe winter.”

  “Oh, happy 16th,” I said, remembering the purpose of the ritual.

  “And a happy 16th to you as well.”

  “See you in spring—whenever it decides to arrive.” I turned on my heel and began trudging towards the forest, but heard Sable call my name softly, causing me to pause my footsteps.

  “I wish you didn’t have to work so much,” he said, and I glanced over my shoulder.

  “Well, someone’s gotta put food on the table and help pay the taxes,” I jeered more cruelly than I wanted, and Sable’s eyes drifted. “And mend clothes, scrub the linen, clean the fireplace, prepare the porridge, grind the flour, gather food from the allotment, avoid being crushed.” Sable looked away, the wind tossing his black, jagged hair around his warm, toned face, and his obvious lack of understanding only furthered my frustration.

  “Don’t you do anything like that?” I asked while furrowing my brow.

  “I clean my clothes in the river,” he said, then looked at me again.

  “Well, that’s good, otherwise I cannot imagine you keeping a slave to do all your chores,” I scoffed.

  “What is a slave?”

  “Someone like me—but worse, for they are not even paid for any of their labor and bound to a master.”

  “I would never keep a slave.”

  “Well, good. Glad Teraganes don’t believe in slavery.” I looked away, hating the direction of the conversation, but, mostly, the festering of negative emotions welling within my heart and controlling the fluctuation of my tone.

  “Maybe that is why we are taught to survive on our own, so that we never have to depend on others to do work for us, which only seems to cause others pain and misery.”

  “Sounds like your people figured out a better way of life. No wonder you stick to your mountains.”

  “I wouldn’t say its a better life, necessarily. For, although your life consists of a lot of work, it is far more interesting than my own. At least you have—“

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, well, we all think others have it better than us, right?” Sable sighed as his eyes shifted while he crossed his arms stiffly, and he suddenly shivered as the wind continued to pick up, and my own ears began to ring as the sharpness of the winter air pierced within. “You’ve got your life, I’ve got mine. Anyway, have a lovely winter doing nothing.”

  I turned on my heel again, and trudged towards the forest entrance, feeling the safety of the trees blocking out the winter discomfort. However, my passive, aggressive last words to Sable haunted me as I attempted to justify my resentment towards the boy from the mountain that I was ever so envious of his easy life, regardless of mine being more interesting than his. I hardly believed that he literally did nothing, for, truly, who could ever live like that?

  How was it even possible?

  ***

  My hands trembled as I sifted through the sharp rocks that were dumped in front of me, and I looked intentionally at each and every rock by the glow of the lantern. My eyes slowly adjusted to recognizing which were potentially ore, possibly valuable beneath the surface, and others that were just simple sediment worthy to cast aside. I learned by watching Mira, who I often worked with, but it was Jamie who would go out of his way to carefully point out the differences I should be looking for. However, he would then skip away before I could ask any more questions.

  The other workers swung their tools at the end of the tunnel, displacing the rock formations as Mira and I sifted through the pile of unearthed rocks. She was quiet and didn’t talk much, which I didn’t mind at first, but, after some weeks of working, I began to wish for a talkative coworker to help pass the dragging time.

  The sound of clanking tools against the rock walls echoed through the area as each strike of the pickaxe pierced the air in repetitive sounds that became a consistent background noise while I bent over the freshly dismantled rocks, sifting through with Mira nearby. We would then place the organized rocks into carts according to its usability, then we would push the loaded carts down the tunnels along the metal tracks where another team would inspect which carts should be dispensed. Normally, the carts were full of unusable sediment where a donkey was used to drag the cart away to be discarded, but the cart full of suspected usable ore was transported to the inspection crew in the main cavern. Then, desirable ores would be smelted in the furnaces, where others were sent further along the inspection line. It was complicated and difficult to understand at first, but, since I was only working with excavation, I didn’t care about the other aspects of the mine.

  “You idiot!” Mira yelled, and slapped my hand, causing me to drop the rock into the wrong cart. “That doesn’t go in there!”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, and fished out the displaced rock while she grumbled about being paired with a useless child.

  Aro would snap at me whenever I brought the carts back, claiming she would grow a beard by the time I decided to return from pushing the heavy, metal cart, and David simply ignored me until I would make a mistake around him. Then, he’d simply grumble about my existence.

  My daily phrases consisted of apologizing for mistakes after being accused of creating a mess, and it was hard to know whether or not I was a terrible worker, or if the work-place was just full of terrible people. Between the constant stream of criticism and stifling air quality, I struggled to keep up with the work, and always was exhausted by the end of the work day. The repetitive disdain from my more experienced colleagues caused me to feel insignificant, and that I would never rise above the status of being an idiot.

  I would leave the mine as quickly as possible after the end of my shift, only waiting outside the enclosed area for my father, and we would walk home together in silence. My mother would prepare dinner, sometimes, but always expected me to help her with cleaning or further preparation despite my exhausted state.

  I received one day off a week, but it was inconsistent timing due to demands of the current work. Sometimes I would work four days, other times it could be six days before a break. Either way, I realized if I was to secure a time to meet Sable in the upcoming year, I would need to find a day that I could always rely on not working. I was unsure how I would establish this, but I waited for an opportunity to rise when it came.

  I thought about Sable’s simple life on the mountain—sitting around and doing nothing, as he so eloquently claimed. As I sifted through sediment, my hands became rough and scarred, and my envy of his easy life only continued to fester deep within my heart. Even as I was working daily while he supposedly did nothing, I thought how I was even trying to secure a time to meet with him.

  Why do I have to do all the work? Why can’t he ever put in any effort? I’m always the one bringing food, arranging times—

  “Hey, girl, watch your hands!” Jamie shouted just before he dumped a pile of rocks near me, breaking me away from my thoughts.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled while standing up, and stretched my arms over my head while he dumped the rocks from a small two-wheeled cart. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my filthy blouse, feeling loose hairs plaster against my skin from the loose braids I had hurriedly made that morning, regretting not making the braids tighter.

  “Nothing like looking at rocks all day, yeah?” Jamie joked while keeping the cart tipped forward, pausing to look at me.

  “That’s for sure,” I replied, and rolled my eyes, and Jamie’s grin grew as the the low light of the lanterns caused his vibrantly blue eyes to glisten.

  “It’s all fun and games until you find some gemstones. Then it gets even more exciting.”

  “More exciting than this? You cannot be serious.”

  “Better believe it. Have you found your first crystal yet?”

  “Nah—just this exciting, dark stuff.”

  “Oh, girl, wait till you find those sparkling stones. Then your eyes will really pop out!”

  “Why? Is it magical or something?” I slightly smirked as Jamie leaned further on the handles of the wheelbarrow, and I heard Mira grunt loudly as she walked over to begin sifting through the pile of rocks he had just brought.

  “In a way, yes—if you believe in that kind of stuff,” Jamie said relatively serious, then raised his thin brows repetitively, causing Mira to loudly scoff again, but others from the opposite side of the tunnel began calling his name. Her looked over his shoulder, then back at me as he angled the cart onto its wheels.

  “Aw, they miss me,” he said with a wink, and then turned the cart around while waving his hand. “I’ll bring you more exciting things soon. I know how much you loooove the dark ones.” He began whistling a relatively harmonious tune as he drifted down the tunnel, and I bent over the rocks, suddenly feeling excited about finding a gemstone, although they were difficult to find without intensive inspection.

  “Don’t get friendly with him,” Mira sneered after Jamie disappeared down the tunnel, but his voice still loudly echoing mixed with the clanking pickaxes.

  “We were just making jokes,” I replied while keeping my eyes upon the rocks in my hands.

  “Yeah, Jamie is always making jokes, and if you know what’s best, don’t let him distract you,” she replied, and kicked a few rocks to the side, observing from a standing position. “There’s a reason why he works alone most of the time.”

  I glanced down the dark tunnel and listened to the loud voices and clanking noises of the pickaxes digging away at the dirt and rocks. I noticed most of the time we worked in pairs, or sometimes three people, and then realized Jamie was the only one who seemed to go back and forth in between groups, often running errands for the team—or so it seemed.

  “Which is?” I asked, feeling curious. Mira scoffed, and kicked another rock. She adjusted her hands out from her leather trouser pockets and began smoothing back the loose ends from her brown braided hair, smearing dirt across her gray forehead.

  “Just focus on your job,” she said with a final huff and turned her back to me, returning to sifting and ignoring me once again. We continued to work in silence, until Jamie came back with more unearthed sediment and playful bantering, asking once again if I found anything interesting.

  Even though Mira discouraged such interactions and ignored Jamie whenever he returned, my quick responses to his remarks only instigated further bantering and more scowling. But, I didn’t care to appease Mira’s disgruntled behavior. I was only thankful to have some sense of lightheartedness within the darkness of the mine and the sorrow of my miserable young self.

  The days were long, dragging by like the heavy loaded carts needing several mules to pull over the steep inclines within the depths. It was difficult to keep track of time, and I could only anticipate when Timbo would finalize the work for the day. Between the moments of cheerful interactions with Jamie and losing track of how many times I would say sorry, I never did find any gemstones—at least, from what I knew, for no one from inspection ever informed me if the suspected rocks were something of the kind.

  I did like peering across the tables where mostly older men worked with thin brushes and even thinner hammers. As I trudged through the main cavern filled with various work stations, I purposefully passed by the inspection group, curious to gaze upon the glistening gemstones that did very much seem magical in some lighting. The reflecting light against the nearly transparent edges reminded me of the hanging stained glass in the library, causing a sense of grief to overshadow my piqued interest in the crystals.

  Finally, the day came when I got my first payment. The heavy weight of the metal coins in a bag resting in my leather pocket brought a smile across my face, and I exited the mine after the day’s end feeling lighter, although my trousers were heavier.

  I was not the only one excited to receive their wages, and was quickly surrounded by a new demeanor of mine workers who bore grinning faces, and shouted about having fun again now that payday had finally arrived. While I waited for my father outside the mine entrance, a crowd began to form as people happily shouted about going out to celebrate now that their coin purses had been filled. I spotted my father, who also had a slight change of expression while approaching me.

  “Hey, Lillie!” I heard someone shout, and I looked across the crowded area of unusually cheerful people and saw Jamie waving at me with a beaming grin, usual for him. Looking over his shoulder, my father observed Jamie’s friendly behavior from across the crowd, and his eyes narrowed as Jamie called my name again.

  “Who is that?” my father asked, and a sudden flush of heat rose to my cheeks as Jamie animately began beckoning for me to come to him. I shook my head as my eyes darted towards my father.

  “Just a workmate,” I said, and trudged down the forest path with my father following at my side. We continued down the path as usual, entering the bustling city, and eventually climbed the cob staircase to our house without a single word about the beckoning man back at the mine entrance. Upon entering through the door, it was obvious that my mother was in a terrible mood. She immediately started a fight with my father, turning him outside sooner than normal to smoke. She had been too stressed to prepare an evening meal for us, blaming her woes upon everyone that dared cause her trouble.

  “And you!” she exclaimed while pointing an angry finger at me. “You abandoned me to do all this work by myself!”

  She slumped into a chair, and pressed her hands against her eyes as she only continued sulking, and I turned to leave the kitchen, feeling too exhausted to defend or help myself to anything, accepting that the hunger pangs were better than attempting to appease my mother.

  I joined my father on the balcony, and sat upon a wooden stool, and leaned my head against the wall. Both pain of hunger and aches of my muscles surged throughout, but I had no desire to return into my mother’s line of wrath.

  “Be a good daughter and fetch us something to eat,” my father said after moving the pipe away from his cracked lips.

  “Mother will only yell at me if I enter the kitchen and try to cook,” I replied with a sigh, then began to brush off the dirt from my trousers, heavily desiring for a warm bath and delicious food.

  “Then fetch food from the butcher. Char’s has some good sandwiches.” My eyes widened at the thought, and I watched as my father removed the coin purse from his pocket, but then he looked over at me, then glanced down at my pocket.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Of course. I am your father. It’s okay if you buy a meal for all of us. Now that you earn a salary, this kind of freedom is allowed.”

  Feeling relieved of my father’s allowances of using my hard-earned money to buy food, I left the house and walked to the local butcher shop that we never went to. I remember passing by the open window in the evenings, smelling the desirable scents of sizzling pork between fresh bread buns that most would consider a luxury of convenience. Mostly people too busy to cook would pay for someone else to provide a meal—a luxury I ever so desired in that moment as my stomach growled while I waited in line with others obviously drifting home after a long day of hard labor.

  As I ordered three sandwiches from the butcher and handed over the metal coins, a sense of happiness overwhelmed me as I anticipated the freedom in which money gave me. I didn’t have to think about cleaning the fireplace, nor wash up any dishes, especially as I noticed the butcher had wrapped the steaming buns with brown paper.

  While carrying the carefully prepared sandwiches home, my heart felt lighter, and, for a moment, all the hard work in the dark didn’t seem so bad now that I didn’t have to think about any chores for that evening. I returned home and my father and I ate our sandwiches together in silence, but obvious relief. The angered sounds of my mother were no longer noticeable, and I decided to go inside and bring her the sandwich in which I had brought for her.

  I entered her room quietly after knocking on the door, noticing her quiet figure sitting in front of the reflection glass while she brushed her long, gray hair. She seemingly ignored me, but as I drifted over to her side and placed the wrapped sandwich on the vanity, her eyes darted, and she twisted her neck while grimacing.

  “What is this?” she snapped.

  “Dinner—a pork sandwich from Char’s,” I replied, feeling hopeful of receiving a positive response, perhaps a hint of gratitude, but my heart knew otherwise.

  “How dare you buy food without permission!” she screeched. “How dare you think you can just do whatever you want, going out of your way to buy food instead of helping me in the kitchen!”

  “Father told me to do so.”

  “You little—“ Her expression twitched as she began trying to recalculate how to react, but I left the room before she could decide.

  I moved into the kitchen and began pumping the water into wash basin for a cleaning. We had a wooden barrel tub in the storage room that could be filled and emptied for bathing, although I did not use it very often since it took a long time to fill. But, after feeling the exhaustion of the highs and lows of the changes of emotions and the hard work of the day in the mine, the newfound freedom to partake in luxuries allowed me to treat myself once again to something I ever so desired—possibly deserved.

  I did not even bother starting a fire to warm the water, and plunged my naked body into the bath. A shiver ran down my spine as I scrubbed my filthy figure. In the low light of a candle burning in the corner of the room, I looked at my arms and legs, noticing the faded hues, and my gray skin appeared similar to the others I had observed so often looking stagnant and dull.

  Despite the moment of happiness from eating a prepared meal from the butcher, or using the money to buy something for my family, a sense of dread filled my mind about the inevitable future I had been destined for all along.

  Does it get better?