Rattleglass adjusted her crinoline skirt, and stared out of the carriage window, not seeing the landscape as it passed by. Even during the day, it hadn't been interesting, an endless stream of identical green trees and hedges. The rhythmic clopping of the horse's hooves, which not even sleep would let her escape. The sound would wedge itself in her head after this, a steady rhythm that never let up.
Clop clop, clop clop. Endlessly repeating, each muffled step vibrating through the carriage.
If her family had been richer, then they could have afforded a better carriage. One with a proper suspension so that she didn't have to line the floor with pillows and cushions to get a slight bit of relief from the constant shaking and rattling that seemed to seep into her very bones.
Apt, considering her name, she considered, sliding off the hard wooden seat and onto the floor.
A few minutes later and she was lying on the floor with her legs against the door and her arms behind her head. Her feet were in the air, and were slowly starting to go numb, but she didn't want to move just yet. From this angle, she could see a little of the sky. It was a full moon tonight, and the small bits she could see behind the trees were filled with stars, fronted by bright grey clouds.
She tilted her head back, looking out through the other window instead. Her head was closer to the door over here and she could see more of the sky, nice.
She wondered what the stars were called, what pictures people had drawn in them over the years. She knew a couple, everyone did, but she had never bothered to properly learn.
She stayed like that for a few more minutes, the hoops of her skirt like a circus tent around her legs, her bare feet almost high enough to touch the window, then with a groan she rolled over onto her side, drew her knees up, and tried to sleep.
-
They stopped only briefly that night, in a small village, located somewhere and nowhere. Rattleglass exited the carriage only briefly, to do her business while the horses were changed, and then it was back on the road.
Somewhere under the layers of cushions and blankets, she had a bag full of food, but so far she hadn't felt the need to break into it, hunger a distant memory.
Lying there on the carriage floor, her face pressed into the pillows, listening to the clop clop clop of the horse's hooves, she allowed herself, for a moment, to think.
A week ago she had been on the back of a dragon, flying high across the world. An adventure most children could only dream of.
A month ago, she had been sitting in her dark, empty house, waiting for death to come for her.
A year ago she had been loved, and had loved in return.
Rattleglass squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face deeper into the pillows. She still held his image in her heart, kept safe and perfect, but she would never use it again.
She had vowed, whilst in the air, that she would never cry again. But it was difficult, at night when everything around her was dark and she was so very, very alone. Only the rattling vibrations of the horse's hooves and the shudder of the carriage for company.
-
"Hey Rattle'!"
Rattleglass looked around the room, squinting her eyes in an over-exaggerated fashion. "Is somebody there?" she called, with more squinting, and a cupped hand on her brow for good measure, "I thought I heard a voice, but there's nobody here!"
A giggle from the little cloud of magic under the table, "I'm a spooky ghost!"
The tablecloth wiggled slightly, and Rattleglass smiled.
"Raar!" She raised her arms and jumped towards the table, lifting the tablecloth and diving under in one motion, "I'm a big ol' dragon and I'm going to ea-"
But there was nobody there.
-
She awoke the next morning with her eyes already open, staring at the roof of the carriage, the grain of the wood seared into her vision, sunlight streaming in through the windows.
It took her a moment to come-to, to realise that the carriage had stopped and the horses were still. She had arrived.
-
The house loomed before her, large and white. The plaster was freshly painted and the windows thrown open to the spring air. Surrounding the front door were flowering vines, gripping weakly to the new plaster. They looked a bit scuffed, like they'd been torn back recently and then forced back into a place they weren't all that comfortable with.
Rattleglass sympathised.
The house was two stories high, a ground and a first floor, but the roof garden hung down, obscuring the upper windows with greenery and flowers. From somewhere up on the roof she could hear the sound of laughter and the clinking of plates and glasses.
Behind her, the driver cracked the horse-whip, and the carriage turned smartly. The figure gave her one last glance, and then pulled their hat down over their eyes, and the carriage pulled away, leaving her alone.
She had no bags with her. No luggage. When they had taken her off the dragon they had removed her travel clothes and put her into this stupid skirt, and now after three days of constant travel, it was tired and crumpled.
She spent a moment trying to smooth it down, running her hands over the pleated front of her dress, straightening out the crinoline and trying to force her bushy red hair into some sort of shape.
It didn't help. The only thing that had ever helped with that was magic.
Rattleglass squeezed her eyes shut for a moment until the wave passed. Then, with a deep breath, she knocked on the door.
-
There was a momentary break in the sounds from above, then it resumed, and a small face peeked down from one of the upstairs windows.
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"C'mon in!" they shouted, and Rattleglass hesitated, struggling to see them against the bright sun. "I said c'mon!" they made some sort of gesture, and then the face disappeared.
A moment later there was a clunk, and the door opened, "we dun normally use the front!" the kid shouted happily as they ran back to where ever they'd come from, "we normally just come in 'round the back!"
Rattleglass took a moment to catch her bearings, and then stepped silently into the hallway.
It seemed dark, compared to the outside, but it wasn't really, it was just her eyes adjusting. The hallway carried on for a while, and then at the other end was another door, this one open. Off to either side were rooms. One room was closed, and another was propped open with a pile of grubby clothing. The washroom maybe?
There was a cart wheel lying against one wall, almost as tall as she was, and she edged past it gingerly. It was old and several of the spokes were dimpled with rot, the metal band around the outside spotted with old rust. The floor hadn't been swept in a while, and the walls inside were not as freshly plastered as those outside, making the whole affair seem narrow and oppressive.
But not as oppressive as where she had come from. For a moment she shut her eyes again. She wasn't going to cry!
The edges of her skirt brushed against the walls on either side as she walked, and for a moment for felt a vivid sharp hatred for the thing. Then it passed, leaving her exhausted and tired, and she staggered, reaching out a hand to steady herself.
She stood like that for a moment, before the face appeared again from a doorway near the end of the hall, "c'mon slowpoke!" they waved, and she pushed away from the wall, hiked up her skirts, and followed.
She expected to be led up to the roof, but the child shook their head, leading her out the back instead, into an overgrown garden. "You dun wanna go up there, they're day-drinkin'!"
It wasn't a phrase she had heard before, but she could imagine what it meant, and she wrinkled her nose at it. "Isn't this supposed to be an orphanage?"
The kid ahead of her shrugged, still leading her by the hand through bushes and hedges, her skirt catching on branches and getting stuck in the narrow gaps. "Dun ask me, they said I had to live here so now I live here!"
They walked for a couple more minutes, under trees and vines, until eventually, they came upon a large willow tree. The child leading her put a finger over their lips and crinkled their eyes, before signalling that she stay where she was. They then spun and pushed through the hanging willow, disappearing from sight like an otter diving into a stream.
There was a moment of silence, the birdsong overhead and the chirping of insects, and then the head reappeared, the willow fronds encircling it like the edges of a painting. "C'mon in!"
She parted the willow twigs with her hands, and entered the den.
-
She didn't know what she had expected, but the bright, dry space before her wasn't it. She stopped for a moment to look around, and then to look up. Whoever had Grown this tree, they had done it over a long period of time, and the roof of it was far above her head, the sun streaming through the spindly branches.
Willows were good trees. They absorbed magic from the air and the earth, leaving everything around them clean and fresh. The oldest tree known was a willow, in the inland city of, surprisingly, Willow, far to the east, or was it west now… The tree was said to cover the whole city and to protect it from the rain, but she had never seen it for herself.
She thought for a moment about the tree she had sheltered under with the Dragon, and the calm cool lake, but there were more interesting things to be thinking about!
The area wasn't bare, instead in the centre of the area in front of her was an area filled with dirty looking cushions, and around six or seven dirty looking children. One of them waved as she entered, and another rolled their eyes, looking her up and down and obviously not impressed with what they saw. There was a range of ages throughout the group, from kids younger than her to others much older.
As she looked around, she wished her brother could have been here, and something in her heart clenched. She took a moment to steady herself, before opening her eyes again. "Hi?"
One of the older kids stood up, and she expected a greeting, but instead, they simply walked away, through the willow fronds and out of sight. The kid who had rolled their eyes sighed, "don't mind him", she said, "he just doesn't like competing for food."
"Competing?" she asked? Her voice was quiet, and she hated it.
The girl shrugged, "you'll see."
-
The kids hung around the willow until early evening, not heading home for lunch, which Rattleglass didn't feel up to questioning, despite her stomach growling quietly from the hunger. She had only eaten lightly during the three-day journey, and it was starting to catch up with her.
Six kids lived in "the house", as they referred to it. Three boys, two girls and one who was neither. That last one was Shortfire, who had escorted her across the fields to begin with.
The lad who had left was Cloverstep, and the girl who had apologised for him was Plumsweet. She had left not long after Cloverstep, and hadn't returned by the time the sun started to set.
Shortfire was a confusing little sort, sometimes she was he, and sometimes he was they, and Rattleglass took a while to get the hang of it. It seemed to depend mostly on mood and time of day. They reminded Rattleglass of her brother, sometimes.
If the others saw her trying not to cry, then they didn't say anything.
Heading back to the house in the yellow evening light, Shortfire's hand in hers, Rattleglass wondered if she would find a new family here.
-
Coming back to the house, somebody had been through and shut the windows, but the only light was coming from the upstairs, the downstairs shutters tightly closed. Shortfire held her back for a moment, putting a finger over his mouth, "you gotta be quiet goin' in or the ladies'll shout at you, so shh!"
Rattleglass started at them for a moment, before shrugging and nodding, and the small group of children formed into a line and shuffled towards the house. It was all very strange.
They entered the hall she had passed through earlier, which was even gloomier in the evening darkness, and then led her into the kitchen, not letting go of her hand.
The kitchen contained a large table, around which were chairs which looked like they'd lived a hard life, before coming here to find their final resting place. She went to take a seat at one of them, but Shortfire pulled her back and gestured to another, pushing at the one she had chosen.
It wobbled on its legs like some sort of wild animal, swaying side to side, and she would have laughed, if all of the other children weren't being so careful to be silent.
The room was lit by a single large fire, in front of which Cloverstep was attending to a large cauldron of stew. At least the room seemed cleaner than the rest of the house, and she had the sense that something else had been cooked in here recently, but which was now gone. Food for the "upstairs"?
A few minutes later they were all seated around the table, one of the larger children taking the wobbly chair with practised ease. It creaked a little as they swayed side to side, but a look from the other kids soon put a stop to that, and the only sounds in the room were the quiet rattling of spoons on the heavy earthenware bowls.
There was enough food to go round, but barely, and Rattleglass still wasn't full, but the pains in her stomach had eased.
One of the girls took her hand, and with a candle in the other, she was led down the hall, to the bedroom.
It was all so eerie and surreal, that she just went along with it.
-
The room contained several small beds, and a single table near the door, where the candle was placed with reverence.
There was a little confusion about her lack of luggage and sleepwear. "What," whispered Plumsweet, plucking at the skirt, "you're gonna keep wearin' that thing?"
Rattleglass shrugged, suddenly defensive of the dress she had hated so much only a moment earlier. She narrowed her eyes at Plumsweet, "Why, what's wrong with it?"
She didn't raise her voice, but it sounded surprisingly loud in the silent house, and there was a frozen moment where nobody moved. Then Plumsweet stepped back, her hands up in front of herself but her expression not seriously threatened, "It just looks a bit uncomfortable to sleep in is all," she said quietly, "your highness."
Rattleglass went to make a retort, only holding it back at the last moment, biting her lip so hard she was surprised she couldn't taste blood.
Plumsweet watched her for a moment, silent, and then with a shrug, she turned. "Kids sleep in this room, grown-ups in the room next door. Don't go upstairs, don't run away."
She gave a backhanded wave as she left the room, and then pulled the door shut behind her, not looking back. The dirty clothes in the doorway still hadn't been moved, so it remained open a crack. The girl who had led her into the room sighed through her nose, and then dug around in a box in the corner, coming up with a surprisingly clean-looking nightdress. "Here," she murmured, pressing it into Rattleglass's hands, "put this on, your bed is over there."
The mattress was straw, but the sheets seemed clean, and within minutes she was asleep, the long day catching up to her all at once.