“There is still so much for you to learn,” Jadis said, her tone distraught and confused. “I don’t see why you want to quit now?”

  “Something has come up,” I said, hiding my pain behind the truth. “I cannot train with you anymore. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me and allowed me to learn by your side.”

  “I don’t understand,” the aging woman said while placing her hand on my shoulder. I moved aside, causing her hand to drop slowly at her side, her whimsical sleeves of the shawl fluttering dramatically.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t explain further. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

  I left with a quick twist, leaving Jadis’ store without looking back. My heart continued to break as I had convinced myself to cut ties with Jadis under the fear of losing her in a similar manner as Historia. I lost my access to the library, including the first adult to show me kindness. My parents questioned me every day where I went, including if I had returned to the library, and I felt incapable of ever saying goodbye to Historia, too afraid what my parents would do if I were to disobey.

  I didn’t want to lose Jadis, but the horror of what my parents were capable of forced me to leave her side. I did not want to hurt Jadis, but it was the only thing I could think of that required the least amount of anguish. Father wanted me to find a job—I still had years of learning before I could even begin to think about opening my own practice as a herbalist. Why prolong the inevitable further when I had no hope left?

  I spent the following weeks numbing myself to the pain of losing Historia and Jadis, and all they had to offer. It was like mourning the death of someone, or so I assumed, for I never experienced death of a loved one, only witnessed it from others. A ballad I once read spoke eloquently of such dark emotions:

  Hath we not the water to quench our thirst

  Nor shall one ever know anything else but the dryness of the well after death marks one’s soul

  A void ever bringeth a sad song to the birds of the sky, reminding the broken soul that life is feeble and dull

  After the aching heart breaks from loss—after the remnants of a love soon disappear

  Remnants of the loss of my joy still remained as ink stains lingered on a single blouse, and a waistcoat once given to me by Historia lay folded at the bottom of a dresser drawer. A few hidden papers were safely tucked underneath the mattress of my bed, and, naturally, all the drying plants hanging from the ceiling beams, permeated my small room with scents of nature, reminding me of my dismantling future.

  But, most importantly, the full moon was approaching, and I worried about the other joy in my life who I knew I had kept hidden from my parents.

  Should I also stop returning to the meadow? Should I say goodbye to him?

  My throat choked up as I trembled while laying upon my bed during the night, feeling horribly sick as different scenarios of how my father or mother would react if they were to ever discover who else I have been visiting for the past few years.

  The thought of losing him caused further discomfort, but the reality of how disconnected he was from my life allowed me to feel some sense of control. How could they take him from me? They never wandered into the forest, and depended heavily on me bringing home food from my foraging trips. He wasn’t connected to anyone from the city, and there was no possibility for them to ever know about his existence unless I told them directly.

  As long as I continued bringing home food and finishing all the expected work, I saw no reason for them to keep me from entering the forest and wandering to the meadow. They would have to lock me up in the house, and they couldn’t afford to do that.

  No—I think Sable is safe. I think my meadow—our meadow—is safe from my father’s wrath and my mother’s scorn—for now.

  I just need to continue being careful.

  “Where are you going?” my mother asked as I was stuffing a pile of torn trousers into my basket that she had earlier that morning mentioned needed mending.

  “I’m going to the forest, then I will find a place to mend father’s pants,” I said quickly.

  “The forest isn’t a place to sew clothes,” she scolded.

  “Do you want me to find berries?” I asked while bravely lifting my eyes, feeling anger rise to my cheeks as my mother rolled her eyes.

  “Of course, but you can mend the items after.”

  “I would rather do both at the same time. The house is filled with smoke; its making me sick.”

  I turned and left my mother, rolling my eyes when my back had turned. I heard her scoff, but she continued preparing some stocks. I left the little wretched house, moved through the overbearing city, and returned to the meadow.

  My mind wandered, swirling with my parent’s actions, my father’s demand for me to start working, and the never ending clothes I had to mend. I thought about the berry bush full of ripe summer fruit, partly wanting to accidentally forget to bring them home, but quickly decided to wait and see how the day went. Perhaps I would naturally forget, just to spite my mother.

  I entered the clearing and noticed Sable had yet to arrive. I looked up, the sun was on the opposite end, and I realized it was still early in the morning. Normally he came when the sun was high in the sky, or so I assumed, for I normally came later in the afternoon on account of being busy with my studies. However, with staying home and busying myself with whatever demands my mother barked out, I found my life stagnant—and I wondered how much longer it would last.

  I shook the fading blanket out, and allowed it to settle upon the grass, and pulled out the filthy pile of trousers that my father was always ripping apart due to his field of work. The breeze blew through my hair, and it felt refreshing to be away from people, and far from other’s expectations. I rarely was alone in the meadow anymore.

  For a moment, as I pushed my needle and thread through the pants, my mind went suddenly quiet. My eyes lifted, and I slowly dropped my hands while looking around. Tall, beautiful flowers swayed in the rippling grass, and butterflies bounced from each, suddenly two meeting each other mid-air, and danced around in a lovely swirling scene of magic.

  I pushed the work aside, and slowly rested my head upon the blanket, and quietly listened to the low rumble of the earth beneath my ears, and the howling of the wind. The rustling of swaying grass felt ever so peaceful, and, for once, I closed my eyes and allowed the song of the earth to lull me to sleep.

  A hazy outline of something large and fury stands in the forest.

  The obvious form of antlers rise between.

  A blue light glows around its form.

  A celestial voice calls my name.

  Red eyes stare at me.

  From a wolf.

  Black as night.

  Ravens cry from above.

  Large black wings flutter.

  A dark hand holds a crimson scarf.

  My name is called, by many—blood is everywhere.

  “Hello Lillie,” I heard Sable’s voice as my eyes flickered open after hearing my name one too many times. His leaning head startled me, but his eyes softened upon realizing I was awake. “You were sleeping for awhile.”

  “Oh, hi,” I said and began rubbing my eyes and stretching my legs. Sable’s face lingered over me as he smiled, blocking the midday sun up above. “How long have you been here?”

  “For awhile,” he said while scratching at his head.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Why would I?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “You looked peaceful, why would I disrupt you?”

  Oh Sable, why are you so sweet?

  I rolled over onto my side, and stretched out my arms, feeling achy all over. Laying on my stomach, I lifted myself, and rested on my arms. Sable still sat behind me, crouched over his knees, watching me with his curious eyes. For a moment, the feeling of hatred overwhelmed me as I remembered the fire and its resemblance to his eye color, and I looked away.

  “I guess I am extra tired today,” I said while looking down at the blanket and I began picking at its fibers. “I had a rough couple of weeks.”

  “How so?” he asked, his voice sounding deeper than last time I had seen him.

  “Oh,” I muttered, feeling tears welling in my eyes. I didn’t feel like talking about what happened, but Sable’s soft, but deepening voice beckoned me to share. “My—my father found my books.” I moved into a sitting position, folding my knees and wrapping my arms around. I rested my head on my knees, looking in Sable’s direction, but kept my eyes on the blanket. Silence fell, and I knew that Sable was simply waiting for me to continue.

  “He took my books away. He told me that I can’t visit Historia in the library anymore. He—“ my voice broke.

  “Why?” Sable then quickly asked. “Why would your father take something away that you love?”

  “He says he must toughen me up for the realities of life. I don’t know. I think he means well, but I wonder why life has to be so tough? And, why can’t I try to make it easier, you know? Why can’t I still enjoy the things that make me happy?”

  “I understand training your child to endure through the hardships that life holds, like the cold winters and natural ways of life and death. But, I don’t understand why your father would purposefully deplete you of all your joys in life.” I moved my eyes to look at Sable. He sounded so mature, so intelligent—so different than his usual self.

  “I don’t understand either. He doesn’t explain himself well, but sometimes I see the hurt in his eyes. Maybe he is trying to protect me by making me tough. Maybe he doesn’t know any other way.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Maybe it is his only knowledge of love. Maybe, because of the pain of his own life, he is just trying to protect me, you know?”

  “But, does protection and love have to hurt like this?”

  “I don’t know. But, it seems the only way he and my mother know.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to hurt. Perhaps it hurts because it’s not love, nor protection.” I lifted my head, feeling a gasp escape my mouth as a tears welled in my eyes while Sable was looking off into the distance. I wiped my cheeks with my arm, dampening the linen of my blouse, and I cast another gasp.

  “Then what could it be?”

  Sable stood up, his wings extended slightly as he moved, causing me to flinch as his tall figure loomed over me. He was growing significantly taller than me each new season, and his wings were also extending more, and his voice obviously changing into one of a young man.

  He crossed his arms as he continued to wander his eyes into the unknown distance, obviously thinking deeply about the subject.

  “Something else,” he finally said, surprising me after his long contemplation. But, he moved his hand out to me while giving me a kind smile. I reached out and he pulled me to my feet, slightly grunting as if I were heavier than he had expected. “Let’s run around.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, sensing a childish desire as Sable kept his hand in mine, but he began tugging, stating that it would help me feel better.

  I rolled my eyes, then tossed off my shoes, and allowed myself the freedom to run around the soft, summer grass while holding Sable’s hand. While the wind blew through my hair, and Sable continued to peer at me with a toothy grin, I felt a strong urge to fling myself into a cartwheel.

  The ground was energizing, the atmosphere ever so replenishing, and I ran around like a child with Sable encouraging me with every ounce of effort I put into my cartwheels. A sense of joy overcame my heart as I allowed the sadness to subside while frolicking in the meadow like a bouncing butterfly. His efforts to cheer me up worked, and I felt ever so grateful for allowing myself the privilege to keep him in my life.

  Before, I thought him too apathetic to care about me and what mattered. While chasing each other around, picking flowers, and settling upon the blanket to make flower crowns, I no longer worried about the complexities of relationships—at least, for now.

  Sable was unlike anyone else I knew. He was the only other person I felt comfortable to be wholly myself.

  “Now—you are a king! King of the mountain!” I proclaimed as I placed the chain of daisies upon the top of his head. His crimson eyes glistened in the sunlight, and the yellow flowers appeared delicate upon his black hair that I slightly tucked behind one of his ears. He grinned while holding a partially complete daisy chain upon his lap, but his eyes drifted down as I moved my hand away from his face.

  “What is a king?” he asked while he braided the last of the chain of daises, connecting it into a circle.

  “A ruler who wears a crown, of course,” I said, and his long lashes lifted as his eyes stared at me for a moment.

  “You can also be king.” He raised the crown to my head, and I quietly snickered.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “A woman cannot be a king—only a queen.” Sable’s smile grew as he copied my actions, placing a strand of hair behind my long, pointed ear.

  “Then you can be queen of the forest.”

  “Ah, I don’t wanna be a queen,” I jeered, and his smile slowly disappeared. “Too much work and responsibility. I have enough troubles as it is.”

  “Then what would you like to be?” I felt my heart suddenly skip a beat as he pushed more hair behind my ear as we kneeled in front of each other.

  “Free.”

  “Then you can be queen of freedom.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I smiled as Sable slowly drifted his hand away, but then laughed as the flower crown blew off his head from a strong wind, and he jolted to the side to catch it, ripping it in two with his efforts. He whined about no longer being king, but I encouraged that such rulers didn’t always have to wear a crown, allowing him to smile again as I taught him how to fix his crown.

  ***

  “Lillie!” my mother called for me as I prepared our evening meal in the kitchen. I walked down the hall while wiping my hands upon an apron, and saw her and Thabias standing in the doorway.

  “Lillie,” my mother continued, “go with Thabias to the allotment.”

  “Why? I already told you that I received the most I could this week,” I said, and I narrowed my eyes.

  “Please,” Thabias unusually pleaded. “My family needs it. The Keepers refused me. They never did when you were with me.” It was obvious that he didn’t come here to make trouble, and the reality of his growing, manly figure was causing him difficulties of securing food with the greedy bastards.

  “Don’t be heartless,” my mother scolded. “You’re not doing anything important. Go with Thabias.”

  “Fine, give me a moment.” I walked into my room, and grabbed my old ratty cloak, and basket. I strapped the leather straps onto my back, and left the house with Thabias, and we walked most of the way in silence.

  “Now,” he said, his tone deepening into a menacing voice he often used with me, “don’t mess this up.”

  “Hey!” I sneered. “Do you want me to help or not? Or do we need to settle this like old times?”

  “No, I do not feel like fighting today,” he said and let out a heavy sigh.

  “Tell me, why do you need my help?”

  “I went earlier this morning with my little sister. I’m helping her learn how it works. Then, those stupid bastards told me that my parent’s didn’t pay the tax, which they did. I know it’s a lie, but the Keepers still refused us any food. My sister is distressed, my mother completely disoriented. I’ve been doing this for so many years, I don’t know how they can cope without me.”

  “Do you have the receipt to prove the last payment?”

  “Yes, here.” Thabias handed me a piece of paper, and I noticed his rough hands were slightly trembling. The paper was clearly marked with the proper indicators often used by the regime that recounted the taxes. The date was for this week with a final approval of payment—there was no mistake.

  “And they didn’t honor it?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Okay, that’s odd. Usually they just give less desirable foods, at least to children. Did you parents do anything to upset anyone?”

  “Are you accusing my parents of fraud? How dare you!” I raised my hand, evading any punches he would serve, but his voice only shook and his hands tightened at his side.

  “Of course not. I am just trying to figure out the reasoning behind their behavior. You know I’m not accusing them of anything wrong. I know for a fact most of the time the Keepers, and their Masters, are the ones causing trouble. I just need to know the whole situation and anything that might be of useful to keep in mind when advocating for your share of food. Okay?”

  He turned his face away, staring at the ground as we continued walking through the narrow streets. His shoulder length hair was unbraided, but terribly jagged at the ends, desperately in need of at trim. His clothes were tattered and his leather tunic deeply stained from grease.

  Thabias was one of five children. His parents were kind and honorable people, but naive in their family predicament—at least in my opinion. I thought it was ridiculous to continue having so many children as lower-class dwellers who barely could afford to keep their family alive. Thabias was their oldest child, bearing the burden of also providing for his family. His father owned the metal works shop in our neighborhood, selling tools and other supplies, and Thabias was sent to become an apprentice as a blacksmith, a friend of his family who also partnered with Torrence who sold the tools the blacksmith made. I thought it was a good situation for him, but judging by the state of his clothes and his nervous behavior, and desperation to come to me for help, I wondered just exactly how well his position was, or what kind of future he could look towards.

  “Did your father also pay his taxes on his shop?” I asked.

  “I think so, but that shouldn’t prevent our food supply,” he answered.

  “Never know with these ruffians. They find any reason not to give food and only keep it for themselves. Maybe because you’re becoming more—uh—grown up, believe it or not.”

  “Hey! You’re all woman-y.” Thabias pointed a finger at my chest, then looked away with embarrassment.

  “That’s what happens when we grow up,” I laughed, but avoided his darting eyes. “I am just saying it’s a good idea to pass on your role to your younger siblings, or your mother. They’ll have better luck than you.”

  “Yeah. I know. That’s why I’m bringing my sister from now on, but after today’s event, I couldn’t bear to leave her to it by herself. And I’m sure my father has been up to date with all of his taxes.”

  “Well, we were once young kids going by ourselves.”

  “And look how terrible that turned out for us.” I glanced over at Thabias, realizing that he did have a heart—at least for his younger siblings.

  “Well, let us hope we can charm them once again to do their jobs.”

  “Whatever.”

  We walked to the allotment, entering the busy area where many families came for their share of food from the farmlands outside of the forest. Cedrus City was a place of skills, shops, and mine exports, but our food came mainly from the farms outside of the city. I had never been to the farmlands, even though I thought many times about visiting as a child.

  Our homes were taxed, and part of our taxes paid for our share of the farmed food brought by carriages. However, during difficult harvests, food was not always evenly distributed. At worst, the Keepers were in charge of distribution, often being bribed by richer families for more food, also causing problems amongst the poorer families.

  A terrible system, in my opinion.

  If I were queen of this forest, I would have easily changed the fairness, giving everyone equal rights to food—for, such a thing was vital to survival, and should never be a source neglected from others. But, alas, I was no queen, nor would I ever rise to such a position.

  “You again,” a voice called out. A large, muscular man with the hues of sage green scolded as he eyed Thabias and me standing in line.

  “Here,” I said while holding out Thabias’ family’s receipt. “This family has not received their share. Please fulfill their receipt and honor the system.” The Keeper’s black eyes narrowed, a menacing grin grew across his face, and his protruding yellow teeth came to view. I thought about a clever ploy to convince the man, but since Thabias had already come and the group of Tamarine workers already gave up on helping him out, I decided to stick to nobility and a sense of integrity.

  “Ah, I see,” the Keeper growled. I felt Thabias grab my arm as he trembled next to me. “You came with your little girl-friend after I sent you away.” His voice was menacing, deep with greed and horror. My heart trembled at his horrible voice, but I stayed still, hoping to only walk away with food and nothing less.

  “Please honor the system,” I repeated. I kept my demeanor strong, my voice unshaken, and my eyes firmly cast upon the cruel man three times my size.

  “I already told this boy his receipt is futile,” he snarled. He moved forward, his towering stature overshadowing Thabias and me.

  “On what grounds?” I demanded while feeling Thabias’ grip tighten.

  “Ha!” the Keeper roared. “Who are you to bark orders? Little girl.”

  “It is only a question,” I said, my voice softening. “There is no fault in his receipt. I do not understand why you prevent an innocent, well established family from receiving their rightful ordinance. Do you have no pride in your honorable role as you guide and follow the agreements of the allotment?”

  “Oh! Look at you—so educated.”

  “Please, honor the system.”

  “There is no honor in the system for peasants like this boy’s family.”

  “Without such devout families, there would be no system. There would be no shoes on your feet, nor weapons upon your waist.” I eyed the large Tamarine’s wooden mace swinging from his leather belt. He raised a jagged eyebrow and his leather chest-plate squeaked as he flexed his muscles.

  “This family did not pay their taxes,” he snarled as he held up the receipt, then ripped it into pieces. A gasp escaped my mouth, but Thabias’ grip on my arm released and he lunged forward.

  “You barbarian!” Thabias yelled as he grabbed at the Keeper, acting in utter recklessness.

  “Thabias, no!” I shouted, but I was too late.

  The Keeper with the back of his giant hand, slashed against Thabias’ face, launching him straight onto me. I fell to the ground, Thabias faltering on top of me.

  The massive crowd of people around us dissipated as others squealed in fear. While I pushed Thabias off to the side, I saw blood pouring from his face where the man had struck, and poor young boy moaned as he grabbed the side of his face. I leaned over, holding my hand upon his arm while he whimpered, but the shadow of the Keeper drifted over us, and I looked up as he laughed something so terribly evil that I could easily spit if I felt like getting trampled.

  “Now, scram you stupid kids!” he shouted and flicked the side of his hand, casting drops of blood from his spiked glove. Then, ever so menacingly, he bent over us, still smiling sadistically. “Unless you wanna pay some extra taxes for me.”

  I scrambled to my feet, and pulled Thabias up while he still held his hand against his bleeding face. I felt the Keeper stomp closer to me, and was afraid he would attempt to hold me back, but I was able to escape fast enough while still pushing Thabias forward. The onlookers of those waiting for their own food privileges cast their eyes away, and I knew that not a single one of them would be willing to defend me nor Thabias—not while the Keepers bellowed their sadistic power over those they deemed beneath their feet, dangling food just out of reach while they thrust their hands forward, demanding for bribes.

  I guided Thabias away from the crowded area to a nearby well and I drew a bucket of fresh rainwater, and I quickly tore the end of my cloak and soaked it with water.

  “Let me clean that up,” I said and motioned for Thabias to move his hand away.

  “Leave me alone,” he hissed while tears ran down his face, intermixing with blood and dirt.

  “Shut up and let me help you,” I said while forcing his bloodied hand away. There was a gash running from his temple down to his right ear. It was deep, but I put the wet cloth against it, causing Thabias to wince as he sat helplessly upon the stone edge of the well.

  I wish I could heal him properly. He’s known too much suffering in this life.

  “Let’s go back to my house and my mother and I will stitch it up,” I said sternly, and placed his hand onto the cloth on his face to stop the bleeding. “Hold this as we walk.”

  “I can’t go back Lillie,” he said, his voice trembling. “My family needs that food. We can’t survive a whole week without food.”

  “Your family needs you alive,” I said, and I pulled him to his feet. “We will figure out food after we get the blood to stop streaming down your face.”

  “I would be better off dead, one less mouth for my parents to feed.”

  “Shut up. Don’t talk like that.” Thabias walked beside me, slumping his head, and I led him back to my house while pushing past apathetic people who refused to acknowledge the bloodied young boy I guided through the streets, soon entering our neighborhood. We climbed up the stairs to my house, and he began to falter as I dragged him into the kitchen, and laid him on the table. I quickly started a fire, and then gathered a bucket of water from our reserve, filling a kettle as Thabias quietly whimpered.

  “I’ve brought shame upon my father,” he cried. “I’ve brought shame upon my family.”

  “Shut up!” I said while I hurriedly rummaged for the proper tinctures. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I’m nothing but a burden. I wish that Keeper had killed me.”

  “I’m gonna kill you if you don’t shut up about this.”

  “No—I cannot die by your hands. That would be even more shameful.”

  “Then you better shut up or I WILL kill you!” Upon my threats, Thabias stopped talking, only moaning from internal anguish. I grabbed my needle, dipping it into the hot water, and prepared it with the thinnest thread I could find. I cleaned up the wound once again, and began sewing the skin together.

  “Lillie! What is going on?” my mother shouted as she entered the kitchen, and Thabias covered the other side of his face with his dirty hand.

  “He’s hurt, please help me!” I called for her. She dropped a basket full of pottery, and came straight over to me as she gasped at the bloody mess.

  “Please, take those herbs right there and combine with oil in the mortar and grind them together for a salve,” I directed my mother. She obeyed, and created the herb mixture. Upon finishing stitching the open wound shut, my mother applied the herbs onto the wound. Finally, I wrapped the it all with cloth, partially covering Thabias’ face that had gone rather cold, his skin depleted of any color.

  “Okay, I think you need to rest,” I said while helping Thabias sit up from the table.

  “I need to go home,” he mumbled. “I must inform my family.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said. “You mustn’t put so much pressure onto yourself. It’s not your fault what the Keepers did.” Thabias gave me a weak smile, his eyes welling with tears again.

  “It is not your burden to bear,” he said, and slid off the wooden table, but I followed him outside of my house, but he stopped me before descending the staircase.

  “Please,” he said, his voice softening. “I must take care of my own family.”

  “Hey,” I said. “I can help. I can help explain.”

  “There is no need for explanation. I need to support my family. I must find a way to secure our livelihood. That is my job, that is my responsibility. You have your own family to care for.”

  “But, I can help you.”

  “You have already seen what asking for help causes.”

  “But—no. That’s not—“

  “Please. Allow me the decency to appear less helpless than I already am.”

  “You’re not helpless. You’re strong. And—“ I looked down at the ground while tears of helplessness welled in my eyes and anger filled my heart.

  Despite all the years of conflict between us, Thabias was no different than any other child born in the low-levels of Cedrus City. He, like us all, was born into a miserable position with heavy burdens he never asked for.

  “You’ll find a way,” I said, and patted his arm while he nodded.

  “Thank you,” Thabias said, and then hobbled down the staircase. I watched from the balcony as the poor young boy raised his head with untold strength and entered his father’s shop.

  I rested my arms upon the railing for a moment, gazing upon the narrow streets of the neighborhood. I thought about all of the families who lived in unfortunate circumstances. The simple families just trying to survive every day, yet others made things even harder for them. My heart ached for Thabias and his family. I thought of how I could help them. They never asked me for anything, only to help Thabias every once in awhile since we had visited the allotment ask kids for so many years. I wished I could provide for them too, and hated that my healing abilities were limited.

  I wish I was so much more powerful to help the sufferings of these people.

  If only I could learn better methods—become a doctor—a healer…

  I glanced up and noticed a group of ravens sitting on the roof of a nearby building. I had never seen them so deep within the city, normally only in the forest. Yet, there they were, gazing upon me as if they were intentionally following and watching me.

  What do you—

  “Lillie! Get inside now!” I heard my mother scream, breaking my thoughts of the strange occurrences of ravens. I walked back into the house and straight into the kitchen where she was vigorously scrubbing the kitchen table.

  “Now, get to work on cleaning the floor!” she barked. “See, this is why I don’t like helping others! It always leads to trouble.”

  “You’re the one who demanded for me to help Thabias,” I mumbled.

  “I’m sure you just HAD to get the Keepers riled up and attacking Thabias.”

  “Don’t you dare blame me for this!” I shouted as the tears welled in my eyes again. “I did nothing wrong. It was THEIR fault! Not mine!”

  “Fine! Whatever you say! Now, get the floors cleaned and, Oh!”— she looked at my torn cloak —“how could you rip up your clothes?”

  I ignored my mother and began cleaning the blood on the wooden floor, not an easy feat, by any means. She continued to shout, complaining about life, about the Keepers, and about the difficulties of getting blood out of wood. She began ranting about everything and anything—all legitimate, but unhelpful in the moment as my hands ached as much as my heart.

  I began to tune her voice out, thinking about my own worries and rants. I thought about Thabias and his life, his boldness to take on the responsibility of his family. Although I did so much already to keep my family secure, I realized money would have solved the problem with Thabias. No matter how much I wanted to believe that my skills and trading abilities were more valuable than Den, it was becoming increasingly obvious that if I had been able to give-in with a simple bribe, Thabias’ family would have food for this week.

  If I had money, I could easily buy food and not depend on the food-allotment from the farmlands. I could buy bread from the bakery, meat from the butcher. I could do so much to secure my family’s wellbeing, and even others. I could help Thabias and his family by buying them food…

  As I scrubbed and cleaned while my mother began to ease on her insults and complaints, my thoughts rushed about with all the wrongdoings of the worlds and how much I wished for power, for an easier way in life. The thoughts of money and a job security lingered. I knew the farmlands were far, and I would have to leave everything behind if I chose that path.

  I thought of other odd jobs, but also how hard it was to secure—especially for being so young.

  So, I thought about the mine. I knew my father had been anxious for me to start there, stating it was the best job security in Cedrus City, even for young adults. My skills were too underdeveloped as a herbalist—no one would come to an underaged person like me. No one would even dare think about giving me Den, nor could I return to Jadis for a job, for she already didn’t pay me.

  My father made a secure salary.

  That was my only choice to bring in Den.

  That was my fate all along, and he was preparing me for it this whole time.

  Later that day, my father returned from the mine as usual and my mother nor I spoke further on the day’s events. After our evening meal, my father went onto the balcony to smoke his usual evening pipe. As night approached and my father had been sitting for awhile, I joined him on the balcony, knowing he was his most even-tempered after his evening smoke.

  “Father,” I said quietly after sitting next to him.

  “Yes, my dear?” his deep voice kind and soft as the herbs capacitated his usual disgruntled self. “What is it?”

  “I am ready,” I said, my voice trembling.

  “For what?”

  “I’m ready to start a job.” My father leaned forward, turning his face towards me. His eyes widened and he removed the pipe from his lips. “I’m ready to start working in the mine.”