Page 5

After being in Drine for eleven years, I can safely say that it doesn't seem like there is anyone ruling it.

At least not down here in the southern part of the kingdom.

With the amount of robbing and killing that goes on in some of the villages, it seems like the only places that are safe if you can't protect yourself, were the cities.

The sound of hooves clattering across the intricate cobblestone street filled my ears as I made my way through the gates.

Houses stacked beside each other adorn the streets with a fresh inflow of people on their way to work.

Even early in the morning, the city is buzzing with life and laughter while groups of children weave in and out of the crowds.

Their screams of rambunctious play joining together with the rumble of constant chatter.

Toward the heart of the city, houses shift from old bricks to tall buildings of pristine white stone.

Balconies and buckets of flowers decorated the iron railings, while periodic strings of clothes painted the alleyways as they hung between the upper floors.

My mouth began to water at the scent that hit me before I was even within sight of the food stands.

Ranging from the savory basted basil and clove lobster to the sweet creamy strawberry mooncake.

Although my favorite is the fire-grilled blackberry and ginger venison accompanied with red wine.

There were several shops throughout the city that had permanent residences, but the market was only available from early spring to late fall. With the exception of the one week in the winter for the Winter Fest.

The city was already humming with excitement for Harvest Day at the end of the month with people packing the streets around the center by the thousands.

Stands full of food or handmade items were each exploding with color and surrounded by crowds.

I had to force my eyes to find the ground as I passed the ones of clothing and jewelry—hightailing it to the supply shop.

My hands found the smooth surface of an elegant oak door, and with a push, the overhanging bell chimed, announcing my arrival.

A smile instantly spread across the warm, round face of Rexina, the shop owner, when her eyes landed on me.

“Mira!” she exclaimed, moving around the counter to wrap me in a hug that I reluctantly gave back.

I retreated from the hug, a little too quickly, and stared into her striking blue eyes, partially hidden by her curly hair.

The beautiful pools contrasted with her rich dark skin that had started to wrinkle.

She was human, like me, and while I had never been afraid of the fae like others, being around Rexina allowed me to relax in a way I couldn't with anyone else.

“Hey Rexina,” I said, forcing a polite smile onto my face. I hadn’t seen her for a long time, too long. The last time I came into the shop, there was another person tending to the front. But based on the way her eyebrows kept a constant furrow, she already knew.

Her head tilted to the side, and I braced myself for the impending question, “How are you holding up?”

“I came to get another trap. Do you, by chance, have a cable snare?” I asked, dodging her question.

She gave me a knowing look but chose not to press it any further.

“Of course I do!” she said cockily. Turning around, she stalked over to grab the thick metal cable from its row, her plump body swaying with each step.

“Nigel tells me you have been on a bit of an undertaking lately. Something about hunting down the beasts in The Great Forest,” she spoke over her shoulder.

Of course he did. Nigel, the other sales keeper, was always a gossip. Yet I'll bet he happened to leave out the most important part of the conversation. As did every other person I told.

“You can say that.”

She moved around the counter, setting the snare onto it with more force than it looked like she intended. “Have you got any?”

I twisted at the cord of my coin purse with my fingers, fidgeting as I searched for the right way to say the answer.

“I have. . . a, um, a zalkrot,” I finally stated.

Her eyes widened into saucers and I felt my face cringe before reluctantly continuing, “This is a long shot, but do you-do you know any young, strawberry-blonde. . . p-pregnant women?”

Her face contorted in confusion. “Why?”

I swallowed, “Anyone with green eyes, short ha—”

Rexina’s sudden gasp cut me off. Realization and recollection flickered across her face, “Silvia?”

“I don’t know her name,” I said begrudgingly.

“Did she have a heart-shaped necklace?"

"Not that I saw."

"What about blue sandals—she always wore those." Her eyes searched my face as she looked both petrified and slightly hopeful that it might be someone else. The image of blood pouring from the woman’s, Silvia’s, navy sandals covered my vision.

Rexina must've read the horror on my face as she began to shake her head in disbelief, tears welling in her eyes. “No. No. I don’t understand, she just went to visit her mother in Aragow. How? How can this happen?” she spoke mostly to herself.

“I’m so sorry.” My heart quickened as grief pressed against my mental walls. “How did you know her?”

“She’s my best friend. I live next door to her and her husband. But I don’t understand, she wouldn’t be out in the forest at night?”

I had to tell her. She, of all people, should know. And I needed to be the one to do it, even if I couldn’t stop my thoughts from wondering whether or not she would believe me.

“It wasn’t at night,” I clarified at last. Rexina took a step back, her demeanor changing completely as the shock of my words shattered the only reality she had ever known.

“A few monsters have started coming out in the day now, and there are even more of them at night. Tell the people they need to stay out of the forest.”

“What?” she asked, her voice dipping into a whisper.

Feeling the familiar panic within me rising more and more, I gave the needed two silver for the snare to finish the transaction. “I know this is a lot, and again I’m sorry. Please just tell people it’s not safe. I have tried, but no one has believed me.”

Sensing my urgency, she nodded softly and slid the coins back to me. Her voice, laden with unshed tears, as she said, “Keep it. For Silvia.”

Not wanting to argue, I took it, dipping my head in thanks. Without so much as a second thought, I left, pushing open the solid door with weak arms. Her wail of sorrow hit me as the door was a millimeter from shutting.

Panic started to fully consume me, mixing with the guilt I felt for Rexina. Beads of sweat formed along my temple and tremors began to take over my limbs completely. I began my mantra with a shaky voice, “My name i-is Mira Ambros, I am twenty. . . two. . . years old and I-I live near Bren—”

I was too far gone. Grief was breaking through my walls one at a time with a sledgehammer. I launched into a sprint. Faces of people became unrecognizable as I passed them. My legs felt like gelatin as I searched relentlessly for a place to ride out the panic attack.

At last, a shadowed alley emerged and I hurled myself around the corner, sinking myself in between two stacks of crates.

Panic scratched beneath my skin, trying to find a way out, creating an internal battle for my life as I tried and tried again to push it back down.

Burying my head between my knees, I heaved for air.

My whole body quaked, like a mountain before a landslide.

When I finally regained control, the sun had moved well beyond its halfway point in the sky.

It took me over four hours to suppress the uproar of my emotions and bury the grief once more.

My brain was a fog of exhaustion as I spent another hour finishing up the rest of my errands before finally navigating my way toward the tree line—the new bag full of provisions hanging from my shoulder weighing me down with each step.

I didn't really have the money to purchase a new bag. That was something I had been waiting on until after at least one more payment. But with the gelatin feel of my muscles, I knew there was no way I would be able to carry everything like I had planned.

Walking to the snare set between the cottage and Brenillin took double the time it should have.

I forced mind to stay void of any thoughts that could hinder my focus with my sword already in hand.

This really wasn't the time for me to be slow.

Not after a beast got close enough to the cottage to set off the alarm.

The snare came up empty, although not completely, as a few mushrooms joined the bag. In the fourth trap was a squirrel, which would have been good had it not been for the very little meat on it.

When the perimeter around the cottage was almost completely checked I set the new snare and placed the squirrel in it. The final trap came up empty, and for the first time in a long time, I felt relieved when I at last stood in front of the withered door.