The bleeding on her arms stopped soon after Amara rinsed them in the forest’s stream. The pain would remain, of course, and she knew from experience that it would likely last for days. But at least she hadn't been buried. And it wasn’t likely they would be able to find her again. She’d been playing in the forest for as long as she could remember, and knew where all the best hiding spots were.
She chose a place in the undergrowth fairly close to the road, where she knew the blazing summer sun made it impossible to see anything within the trees from the wheat field. If Evander and the rest came down the road or through the wheat looking for her she would easily see them and could make another escape before they even knew she was there. If she was lucky a chance to run home before nightfall would arise sooner rather than later.
Patience is my virtue, she reminded herself. It was one of her mother’s favorite sayings, and one Amara had always tried her hardest to adopt as well. She would wait for however long it took. Past nightfall, even forever if necessary. She took immense pride in it, since it was one of the things which made her better than Evander.
It only took a few seconds after she settled into her hiding spot for the insects to resume their noise. Unseen summer cicadas began to fill the air with a buzzing din from their own hiding spots in the forest. The crickets soon joined in as well, feeling confident enough in the dormant, shadowy darkness of the forest to add their joyful voices to the droning chorus. The breeze which blew over the field managed to reach through the gaps in the undergrowth on occasion, sending bursts of cooling relief across Amara’s face.
She watched the flowing yellow-gold of the field for a long time, grateful to be able to experience some tranquility after the experience with Evander. In the far distance a group of people entered the field from the direction of town, and after some initial worry Amara soon relaxed. They were adults working the wheat—not children in search of her.
An hour or so of uneventful watching passed. At some point a black bird began to circle overhead, casting a fast-moving shadow on the ground whenever it happened to pass over the field. Amara ignored it at first, but it circled for so long that it eventually drew her focus. If it remained overhead for much longer it might cause someone in the field to come and inspect whatever it was circling. Just when she was seriously considering throwing something up at it to make it go away it swooped down towards her with great speed, gracefully perching itself atop a branch of a nearby tree. She was immediately shocked at how enormous the bird was. It was a raven, uniformly black in color and almost as big as a toddler. Its sheer size left her feeling intimidated. Wild animals were never friendly, and the claws it’d wrapped around the branch to steady itself were big and sharp-looking.
The raven was clearly looking at Amara, bobbing its head to and fro. She watched it back, and was startled when it abruptly let out a loud burst of caws. It then made a noise that sounded all the world like a person taking a huge gulp of water, and made an accompanying motion with its beak. She stared up at it with bafflement, watching as the raven repeated the noise and motion.
“Shush!” she hissed. “Go away!”
It puffed out the feathers on its head and neck, then let out a long series of caws, much louder than before. It was loud enough to be annoying—and to silence the nearby bugs—but more important was the fact that the noise might draw attention to her hiding spot. She searched the ground around her, looking for something to toss, and settled on a hefty piece of dried-out bark. She missed her throw by a wide margin, but the raven seemed to take the hint. It took off, letting out a long series of disgruntled caws as it flew away, ascending into the blue, cloudless sky.
Amara’s gaze followed the bird until it and its noise disappeared. Once she was satisfied it wouldn’t return she settled back into her spot in the undergrowth. To her relief it looked as though no one in the field had taken any notice of the raven.
Little else happened for the next several hours. When midday arrived Amara watched the people in the field withdraw back towards town, clearly returning for lunch. The thought of eating caused her stomach to grumble painfully, but she steadfastly refused to leave her spot. Lunchtime would be Evander’s best opportunity to find her. Home lay on the other side of the village from her place in the forest, and if he was waiting for her there she wouldn’t have any means of escape.
The thought of Evander lying in wait near her home spawned an idea. Maybe she could wait until after dark, and once he and his parents had gone to bed she could sneak into their house to find some food. His parents were some of the wealthiest people in Shiloh—they were sure to have something stored in their cupboard. They might do any number of things to her if she were caught, but Amara quickly decided that she didn’t care. The least they could do after everything Evander had done was give her something to eat, especially since he’d made her drop her consecration bread. And, she admitted to herself, something about the thought of sneaking around in his house after dark was absolutely thrilling.
A small, devious smile curled at Amara’s lips. Now she wasn’t just cowering in the forest, hiding from her bullies while starving. She was waiting patiently for revenge.
The rest of the afternoon passed excruciatingly slowly. The adults returned from their lunch break after about an hour to resume their work in the wheat. Amara watched them while fantasizing about all the things she might be able to do in Evander’s house. The idea of giving him a scare was unbearably tempting. Maybe she could dress up like a ghost and sit in the corner of his room, waiting to frighten him once he woke up. The mental image of Evander’s terrified face caused her to smile once again.
She made her move just after dusk, right before the stars were set to make their appearance. The adults always worked until there was no sunlight left to see, and once it was completely gone they finally gathered up their tools and returned to the village. The cool breeze Amara had been enjoying all day now had a frosty chill to it, but she didn’t mind. It felt amazing to finally be able to stretch her legs, and she was eager to put her plan in motion.
Night birds called from deep within the forest behind her as she crawled out of her hiding spot in the undergrowth. Once she was out of the forest she took off at a quick jog, and the dirt crunching loudly beneath her feet made her realize that she would need to get off the road if she wanted to reach Evander’s home without alerting anyone to her presence. His house was located on the southern end of the village, within the dells and grassy hills overlooking town. She’d never actually been there before, only seen it from a distance, but even in the dark she knew exactly how to get there. Shiloh wasn’t a big place, and knowing where everything was came naturally to a kid who had always played by herself.
As she walked in a wide arc through the wheat, following the worn foot paths left by the adults, she looked up on occasion at the stars. They’d formed new constellations since last night, and she spotted one just above the horizon ahead of her that looked a bit like a bird with its wings spread out in flight. It reminded her of the raven that’d appeared earlier in the day, and she decided to take it as a good sign. Maybe she would be able to find some food and scare Evander without getting caught after all.
Evander’s house sat alone atop a long, sloping hill roughly a hundred yards or so from the edge of the wheat field. It was only one story tall but generously wide, with plenty of big windows dotting the walls. Light was present in a few of the windows, and on occasion Amara saw shadows passing back and forth on the walls inside.
Beside the house sat a small, darkened horse stable with several stalls. The entire village knew that Evander’s father owned three horses, and the gossip was that he planned to raise a herd in order to sell them to traders passing through on their way to Lucyra. Owning animals was a mark of wealth, and Evander bragged about his father’s horses at every opportunity. But looking at their house, Amara felt a sense of pride in the fact that her home had a second story and theirs did not.
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She crouched down in the wheat, watching the windows of the house while trying to suppress her growing excitement. After twenty minutes or so the lights began to go out one by one. Evander’s father was the village’s lead hunter, and the hunters usually went to bed early in order to wake up before dawn. Amara intended to take full advantage of that fact.
Once the final light went out she left the wheat field, doing her best to move quickly while trying not to make too much noise. She sped up the long slope towards the left-end of the house, intending to enter through the back door, if it had one. If it didn’t have one—or if it was locked—she’d try to find an unlocked window. And if that failed she would try the front door as a last resort.
The slope behind the house contained a large fenced-off pasture, complete with a sizable gate and a water trough for the horses. There was also a back door into the house, much to Amara’s nervous delight, and she crept up to it slowly. Once she was in range of the door handle she hesitated, realizing that to go any further beyond this point would likely get herself into major trouble.
But only if I’m caught, she told herself. She reached out for the door handle and carefully twisted it, discovering it was unlocked. Holding her breath, and with her heart pounding, she swung the door open and crept slowly into the darkened house, then quietly shut the door behind her.
It was too dark inside for Amara to see much of anything. She crouched down by the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness while listening for any signs of activity. After a few minutes she could see well enough to tell she was in the kitchen. Tall cupboards containing stacks of white plates lined the walls on the room’s south end, sitting beside what looked to be a large stove. Various decorations adorned the other walls, though it was too dark to make out much detail. Two empty door frames lead out into the rest of the house, the one on Amara’s right opened into a room that was completely dark, and the other into what looked to be a long hallway.
In the center of the kitchen sat a grand dinner table, covered by a fine white tablecloth. Various baskets and utensils sat atop it, all organized neatly as though someone would be sitting down for a meal at any moment. One of the larger baskets in particular drew Amara’s attention, and she crept forward as slowly as possible in order to inspect it, hope rising in her chest.
The basket was wicker, with a foldable latch to conceal its contents. Amara opened it carefully, and discovered what looked to be a loaf of dark-colored bread covered by a thin white cloth. Her nose confirmed the find after a delightfully strong smell of fresh bread wafted up from the basket, causing her stomach to let out an incredibly loud growl. She froze in place, terrified that she’d just exposed herself, but after a tense wait no angry adults emerged to apprehend her. The house was as silent as a field mouse.
Once she felt sure her stomach hadn’t betrayed her, she reached into the basket and tore off a massive chunk from the loaf. She then crouched below the table, just in case, and began to tear smaller, more edible pieces off the chunk. The bread was rye—which happened to be her favorite—and it may have just been because she hadn’t eaten anything all day, or because of how she’d acquired it, but it seemed like the absolute best thing she’d ever tasted in her entire life. She could feel food energy rushing through her after every bite, and it took effort not to openly express any delight.
She practically inhaled the bread, reaching up for more once the original chunk was gone, and ate the new clump with the same gusto. She reached up several more times, and by the time she felt satisfied the bread in the basket was nearly gone. For good measure Amara placed what remained of it into her pocket for later, thinking about breakfast.
With her stomach finally full, she felt ready to explore the rest of the house. She crept in careful silence towards the hallway and took a cautious peek into it once she’d reached the doorframe. Panic briefly raced through her when she saw someone staring straight at her from the end of the hall, but she relaxed after realizing her error. She was looking at herself—a tall, adult sized mirror hung on the wall at the far end of the hall.
Cautiously, Amara stepped out into the hallway. Several doors lined it, with all but one towards the end closed tight, and it finally occurred to her that she didn’t know which room belonged to Evander. Opening the doors seemed far too risky, so she decided to make her way down to the end of the hall, towards the only half-open door. She watched her darkened figure approaching slowly in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. Exploring someone’s house without their permission was scary, but it was also terribly exciting. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
A loud, indiscernible noise emanated from one of the rooms she passed, sending an instant thrill of fear through her. She froze in place, waiting anxiously to see if the door would open, but fortunately it remained closed. The same noise happened again after a few moments, and she realized that it was the sound of someone snoring. She waited for it to happen a third time, and once it did decided it must be coming from one of Evander’s parents. It was far too loud of a snore to possibly come from a child.
Chastened, Amara continued on to the half-opened door. Once in range she pushed against it gently, and to her intense relief it gave way without making much noise.
The stars cast pale blue light into the room through a large window on the far end. Beneath the window rested a long, elevated bed, and inside it lay Evander. He was sleeping on his side under a layer of blankets, facing the hallway, with his mouth hanging open. Amara was stunned—she’d never seen him with such a dopey expression before, and hadn’t even imagined it was possible for him to have one.
She inched forward towards him, moving as slowly and quietly as possible. His room wasn’t nearly as messy as she’d imagined. Everything seemed to be well-organized and tidy, with virtually nothing out of place. What looked to be a closed chest sat at the end of his bed, and several shelves lined the walls, dotted here and there with toys, books, and other random objects. It could have almost passed as her own room if it’d only been a bit messier.
She came to a silent halt only a foot or two away from him. His breathing was loud, and a small trail of drool leaked from the bottom corner of his opened mouth, staining the pillow below. After getting a good, up close look at him, Amara had to suppress a laugh. There was nothing threatening about him whatsoever in this position, and something about seeing him asleep and drooling all over his pillow felt incredibly empowering.
A frown suddenly crossed Evander’s face, and his hand emerged from beneath the blankets to wipe away some of the drool staining his cheek. It was such a natural, unconscious move for a person to make that it took Amara by surprise, and the realization occurred to her that she’d never truly seen him as a child. He’d seemed more like a demon, always hounding her as though he were trying to take revenge for some unknown slight she’d made against him. But seeing him asleep, she finally saw that he really was just a child, just as vulnerable and in need of his parents as she was of her own mother, and a feeling of intense shame began to wash over her.
All the ideas she’d come up with for scaring him seemed awful now, and she realized that what she’d intended to do—what she’d already done—had made her no better than him. It was absolutely true that he’d held the power of pain and terror over her, but that didn’t mean she should’ve done something like this.
She turned away from Evander’s sleeping form, anxious now to leave the house as soon as possible. As she stepped back into the hallway the door to Evander’s parent’s room opened with a loud squeak, and Amara instantly froze up with shock. Evander’s father emerged from the room, wearing white long johns and a nightcap. His square jaw, sunken eyes and prominent nose looked terrifying in the darkness, and Amara felt as though she was shrinking as she looked up at him. He was so unbelievably tall, and she was so unbearably tiny.
He cast a casual look to his left after exiting the room and froze himself after laying eyes on Amara. They were each left speechless, and for a long moment the two stared at one another in perfect silence, both immobilized by the other.
Once the initial shock wore off, Evander’s father found his voice.
“...Aren’t you Demetria's daughter?”
A woman with mousey looks appeared in the doorframe behind him, peeking out into the hallway just enough to level her gaze on Amara. The fear in her eyes felt like a condemnation.
Despair carved a black hollow within Amara’s heart, and she finally realized the true depths of her mistake. In her desire to take revenge against Evander she’d only been thinking about what the consequences for herself might be, not what they might be for her mother. The realization was too much to bear, and she began to cry, collapsing to her knees as Evander’s parents looked on in stunned silence.