| |
NAHLI
Cluck, cluck, cluck. Nahli’s eyes flicked open at the unfamiliar sound. For a moment, she didn’t understand why there was a hen in her home—the old bridge she considered to be her shelter for the time being, anyway. Then she remembered the day before: Daryna, the chicken, and the tunic she was still wearing.
Tugging the thin fabric of the shirt over her head, she set it aside and stared at her new acquaintance. “I can’t give you a name since I’m going to find a home for you today.”
The chicken stared back at her, as though it were listening intently before preening its feathers.
“I know. I know. You wish you could live here, but this is no place for a chicken.” She laughed then wrinkled her nose. This was her life—talking to a bird.
Standing from its sitting position, the hen scuffed its feet and moved away to reveal a wonderful surprise.
A lovely tan egg.
Nahli’s chest fluttered at the sight. While she couldn’t bring herself to eat a chicken, she had no qualms about having an egg. “You left me a gift?”
As expected, no response came from the guest, so she snatched the branches she stored under the bridge to start a fire. It had taken her a while to learn this technique. Teaching herself to start a fire was a tiresome thing she didn’t want to revisit, and the memories of the blisters that had coated her palms were proof of that.
After rubbing her hands together down the twig multiple times, a hint of gray smoke curled upward, and the woodsy scent invaded her nose. She quickened the pace while smoke continued to drift skyward until a flickering orange flame caught its fiery paws onto the other branches. On top of her stash, of what most villagers would consider garbage, was a meager pan she’d taken from a bakery.
While the egg cooked, Nahli collected a cracked ceramic bowl that was buried beneath a broken candle holder. Running the tip of her tongue along her chipped bottom tooth—a gift from her mother when they’d been practicing with swords—she watched most of the egg slide from the cast iron pan into the bowl with a soft plop. The rest she had to scrape out.
Nahli brought her lips to the ceramic and blew several soft breaths over the top. “Egg?” she asked the hen who quietly studied her. As she thought about it, she cringed. “Sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have asked you that.” She didn’t believe a hen would be too eager to eat something that could have potentially been its baby chick. With dirty fingertips, she stuffed bits of egg into her mouth and tried to figure out the plan for the day.
A gurgling rumbled from her stomach, and she was already aching for more food. Back home, Nahli hadn’t ever had to starve. But here, in this foreign place, she was always hungry.
The plan she decided on would be to drop the hen off somewhere, bathe, then steal something to eat while figuring out another way to get coin. Without Daryna purchasing from Nahli anymore, she’d have to find another way to make money from thieving. It would be easier if she could stick to only stealing coins directly from villagers, but most of the time she found out they didn’t carry around as much as she’d thought.
Despite feeling like the world was against her, Nahli went down on her knees and clasped her hands in prayer, then bowed her head like her mother always did when she prayed to the gods. Nahli didn’t have the candles with her or the silver rings, but she tried anyway.
“I know I haven’t spoken to you in a while, but please, please help me get through this day, this life, because I have no one.”
She didn’t even know if she had the gods. Her home wasn’t a secure place to go to. Once she finally scraped up enough coin to return to Huadu, she would be beaten and married off to someone, even when she paid her parents back. It wasn’t like in Kedaf where the villagers could choose what they wanted to do. In Huadu, whether male or female, it was the parents who chose. Perhaps she should just cross the sea to somewhere else.
Nahli slid on her boots, caked with mud from the previous day. She then scooped up the chicken and brushed dirt off her pants with her free hand.
The sun hadn’t found its place fully in the sky yet. As it drifted upward, rising above the verdant hills, it seemed to follow and watch her in judgment as she headed in the direction of the village. She passed rows and rows of beautiful homes with sturdy shutters, straight roofs, and maintained gardens. While staring at the wealth that these villagers must have, she came to the realization that this wasn’t the brightest idea she’d ever had.
As she ventured farther away from the well-groomed and pristine homes toward the poorer ones, she hoped someone who seemed in need would want the hen. She stepped over a fallen tree—its roots sticking out and twisting in all directions—then followed the curved path downward.
A twin set of cottages poked out from the flowering trees when she reached the bottom. One appeared to be more wilted and possibly tilting. The closer she got, the harsher it looked. A frail girl with messy dark curls sat on the uneven porch steps with a book in hand. When she studied the girl, she knew she’d done the right thing and had found the perfect person. Perhaps it was a good idea, after all.
The little girl must have felt Nahli watching her because she closed her book and glanced up at her.
Nahli smiled and held out the hen in front of her. “Do you need a chicken?”
“What?” The girl blinked rapidly while staring, as though she couldn’t believe the offer. “We can’t afford to buy a hen.”
Doing a good deed wasn’t something Nahli had done in a long time, and her fingers twitched in nervousness. She took a few hesitant steps closer to the girl. “I’m giving it away.”
The girl frowned. “Well, why are you giving it away?”
“Because I live on my own and can’t take care of it.”
There was a brief pause before the girl shut her gaping mouth and set the book on the steps. She practically radiated as she ran closer to Nahli and the hen. Not the least bit afraid, the small girl reached upward and stroked the black and white feathers. “I’ll have to ask my brother if I can keep it.”
“Tasha!” The girl twisted her head around to the male’s voice. Nahli looked up to see a boy around fifteen or sixteen with blond curly hair, but not as disheveled as the little girl’s, marching down the steps. “You aren’t supposed to speak to random strangers.”
Nahli understood that—she could have been anyone, and the little girl had run right up to her with no way to defend herself. Perhaps she was someone Tasha should be avoiding since she was a thief.
She scanned the boy and the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks while he frowned at his sister. Nahli steeled her spine. “I was seeing if she wanted this chicken ... I ... uh ... found it.”
The boy shifted his attention away from Tasha and focused his green eyes on Nahli. “Oh, you’re a girl.”
Tasha tugged on the boy’s shirt sleeve. “Pav, do you want this chicken? Or should we ask—”
“Of course, we want this chicken.” Pav lifted the hen out of Nahli’s arms. “And you are?” he asked, giving her a soft smile and holding out his palm.
She stared at his hand, unsure what to do. “No one, really.”
“No one has to have a name.” He brought his empty hand back and pointed at his chest. “My name’s Pav.”
“So I heard.”
“And your name is?” He held out his palm again, letting it dangle in the air.
“Nahli.” She brought her hand forward to shake his since it was still shoved toward her.
“Lovely name for a lovely girl.” He brought her fingers to his lips and gave it a gentle peck. “Or should I say a woman?” His eyes roamed her up and down.
Pav continued to lightly hold her hand, so she pulled it out of his grasp. “Let’s not think about that.”
“I’ll be sixteen soon,” he said with a warm smile.
“Right.” Her eyes squinted of their own accord as she studied him. He looked ... familiar, strong jaw, perfect nose—
“Are you sure Anton and Yeva want this chicken?” Tasha asked Pav.
Nahli choked and her shoulders tensed at the name. “Anton?”
That was why Pav looked so familiar. He was broader, had freckles and green eyes, but his facial structure was incredibly similar.
“Our brother,” Pav answered, flicking his wrist as though he was the one in charge of the decision making.
“Shoulder-length, straight blond hair?” She wanted to confirm it, even though she knew what Pav’s answer would be.
“Why yes, that describes him perfectly,” he said, brushing away his locks of blond curls from his face.
She was wrong. Her decision wasn’t a good one. “I think I’ll find someone else to give the chicken to.” She reached forward to take back the hen, since Anton did have her favorite satchel.
Pav pushed her hand away with his index finger. “Tasha, go inside and ask Yeva if she wants this gift before we drop you next door and head to the market.”
Tasha nodded fiercely and ran inside the rickety cottage.
Cocking his head, Pav put on a smug grin and winked. “Are you one of Anton’s ladies?”
“What?” she asked, incredulous, stumbling back.
“When I mentioned Anton, you made a face and then wanted to take back the chicken.”
“No, I’m not one of his ladies and would never be anything of his,” she shot back.
He pursed his lips, holding back a laugh. “Mm-hmm.”
A door squeaked from the porch, and a tall willowy girl, with a long blond braid down her back, strolled down the steps toward them. She wore a plain dirt-brown dress similar to Tasha’s tattered one. Tasha was right on the girl’s heels but then sat down on the porch and picked up the forgotten book from earlier.
“We appreciate the gift,” the girl said with a thankful smile. “Tasha explained to me how you found the hen and have no need for it.”
“Don’t worry, Yeva is Anton’s sister, not a lover,” Pav whispered so only Nahli could hear.
The veins at Nahli’s temples throbbed from the situation, and she needed to leave before Anton was the next one to slip outside from the cottage.
Pav petted the red comb of the chicken’s head and gestured at Nahli. “Our new friend here is also a friend of Anton’s.”
“Oh.” A scarlet flush crept up Yeva’s neck and deepened on her face.
“No. No. Not that type of friend.” Nahli hurried to get the words out. “Not even a friend. I just know him.”
She wasn’t going to mention that she’d tried to steal from them at the market. Perhaps she did owe the chicken after what she could have taken from them. If Anton hadn’t shown up, she would have had a satchel and hands full of herbs.
Pav elbowed Yeva in the upper arm. “Her name is Nahli.”
“I’ll tell him you dropped this off”—Yeva’s eyes fell to the hen—“and I’m sure he’ll be most grateful for it. We sure are.”
“All right, well, I must hurry off. I have work to take care of myself,” Nahli said, turning to rush away.
“You can always stop by later when Anton’s home,” Pav called as she took off down the path.
She ignored Pav’s remark and continued to scurry from the family who she now wished she had never met. She couldn’t let herself feel any regrets about what could have happened if she’d stolen from them. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to find work—she had. The bakery—no. The market—no. The only thing she hadn’t attempted a hand in was selling herself, and perhaps Anton and others could, but she would rather feel ashamed about stealing.
As she headed up the pebbled path toward the lake, the hills in the distance now glistened a bright green, not quite the shade of emeralds, but close.
She peeled back a thin branch budding with tiny leaves and ivory flowers to reveal the sparkling lake. With haste, Nahli removed her clothing, stepped into the tepid water, and let out a sigh at how good it was to remove the filth from the day before.
She didn’t have any soap left but as she scrubbed away the dirt and grime the best she could, she felt a thousand times lighter, her mind free.
Lying back and closing her eyes, she floated for several moments and tried not to think about anything besides the water swishing back and forth against her ears, creating a calming song.
Above her, she opened her eyes and stared at the blue sky. The puffy clouds tinted with gray were fattening themselves up with water to bring down the rain. She’d have to hurry since the village would be consumed by a storm soon.
She rolled over and swam until she reached the edge of the lake, then pulled herself out to squeeze the water from her hair.
Nahli stepped into her clothing, and it clung uncomfortably to her damp skin. She slipped on her tattered boots and noticed the tip of the sole flapping. “Great,” she muttered to herself. “Just great.”
While in the middle of braiding her hair, someone shoved her from behind, knocking her to the ground. Before she could pick herself up, a hand yanked her by the braid and pressed a cold blade against her throat. Nahli released a small gasp and froze. A rusty dagger was hidden in her boot, but she was unable to reach it at the moment.
“Don’t even think about moving, little girl,” a low female voice purred in her ear. “You’re going to return Daryna’s loaf of bread and her chicken. But first, you’re going to choose two things for me to remove from you.”
Boda. The woman was Daryna’s helper. What she knew about Boda was that the woman had no intelligence. She was what most would consider stupid.. Nahli would get herself out of this situation, or else, Boda might have to die.
“Sorry, I ate Daryna’s chicken,” Nahli taunted.
Flipping Nahli over to her back, Boda’s muscular arms had her pinned with the knife at her throat again. Boda was a large woman, and even so, Nahli could have already had her dead on the ground if she hadn’t been taken by surprise.
“Do you want me to choose which body parts to remove?” Boda panted. “Because if you don’t choose, it will be both your hands, and I’ll remove each fingertip until I reach your wrists.”
“That would be more than two.” Nahli should have held her sharp tongue. A fear then washed over her of how heavy this situation was getting. She wouldn’t be able to survive in a world without her hands. But she could still get out of this—she always did.
Boda’s eyes narrowed, her gaze like razors. “Answer me! Which parts do you want me to take? Now.”
“Two toes,” Nahli answered quickly, knowing the woman’s attention would focus downward, giving her the chance she was waiting for.
As soon as Boda peered toward her boots, Nahli headbutted the woman. Boda shouted and clasped her forehead. Chest heaving, Nahli thrust her hands against Boda’s shoulders and pushed her backward. Nahli sprung up and sprinted toward a cluster of weeping willow trees.
But Boda was faster than she looked, and Nahli was soon slammed violently from behind, thrown into the nearest tree trunk. Everything spun as Nahli stumbled back. Boda clenched Nahli’s tunic collar in her fist and smashed Nahli’s head into the trunk. Bark scraped the side of her forehead, breaking open the skin. Vision blurring, Nahli swayed side to side. She tried to catch her balance so she could find a way to escape.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Boda’s stale breath smelled of rotten lemons. “But don’t worry, little girl. You won’t live to waste any more of our time.”
Before Nahli could contemplate the last sentence, the strong pressure of the dagger dug in at her throat, tearing it open, followed by an unbearable pain as the weapon plunged into her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even let out a single squeak.
Exhaling, she dropped to her knees. The ache inside her chest grew, like her heart was expanding and cracking open her rib cage, as though the organ was trying to take in a deep breath itself.
She looked up at Boda’s haughty face and fell to the side, her head smacking the dirt with a heavy thump.
Is this really happening? Am I dying?
Nahli shut her eyes and awaited the darkness to sweep her from this horrible life that she had to wake to over and over again—endlessly hungry, endlessly tired, with no home, no rest, no end in sight. Perhaps one of the gods who she prayed to earlier would be waiting to take her away and bring her into oblivion.
She expected a serene feeling to emerge as an unfamiliar scent nestled around her, but it didn’t come as the darkness embraced her into a full cocoon. Her heart didn’t speed as it sat dead in her chest—her lungs didn’t pump as they disintegrated.
What did come was pain, a pain so fierce and so harsh it lit up the darkness into a glowing orange beneath her eyelids. It was as if her skin was being ripped from her body, muscles torn away, organs removed, and her bones being broken and snapped apart. Unconsciousness did come then, and the only choice she had was to be content with it.
