“Of course vampires are real,” said Deniz.

It had been two weeks now since Esmi first saw the garlic hanging along the eaves of the wagons, and a week and a half since they took off from Froskheim and started the lengthy journey down south. With any luck, they would make it back before the real winter settled in, though there was already a light snowfall that melted by noon each day.

Esmi walked at the front of the caravan, between Deniz and Manu, her eyes watching the foggy, almost sepulchral surroundings as she listened to the Boss: “Why, our people served a vampire back in the past. Or so it’s said. My grandpa said so.”

“They did?”

“Pop, don’t fill up her mind with your tall tales.”

“Bah! What do you know?” Deniz gave his son a sideways glance. Though the clan leader was getting rounder with every passing year, his son was a tall and dashing young man. His mother unfortunately passed in childbirth, but she had been a redhead of reputedly maddening beauty, a priestess of Silernic until Deniz got his hands on her and turned her to the gypsy life.

Just like Esmi's own father, Razlan, Manu was only a half-gypsy, though he acted like a full gypsy in truth, more of a gypsy than anyone else in the whole clan. With him, there was always scheme to make coin, and some of the plans he cooked up were wild enough to disturb even his old man. As fearless about his misdeeds as he was shameless. The only thing he had inherited from his beautiful priestess mother were her piercing blue eyes and her height, far greater than that of his stumbling father.

“In any case,” Deniz continued with a drawl. “There was a vampire back south once upon a time. Dimiros, I think they called him. A feared but just voivode who was murdered and rose from the grave to get revenge. He had been good to the gypsies in life, and so they served him in death. Maybe even resurrect him themselves, they say.”

Esmi had never heard of that. That didn’t sound too bad. “What happened to him? Were they his knights?” It was strange to picture gypsies in armor, but she would have liked to try it herself.

“Who, the gypsies? I don’t know. Who knows,” said Deniz with a shrug. He sighed with exhaustion as he stretched his foot out for another step.

“The people that came up with that tall tale couldn’t find a good ending for it,” said Manu.

The old gypsy elbowed his son grumpily. “Manu, go and tell the others we should make a break here. By gods, I’ve gotta rest and eat something.”

Further down from the caravan, Esmi could see her father paddining along the hills that ran parallel to the road, with his recently acquired bow in hand. When he had come back three weeks ago with that thing, her mother said he would likely end up doing nothing with it but hurt himself. But as always, his fantasies got the better of him, and so Sandra allowed him to trade one of her better dresses for it from a widowed northern woman.

“Your father’s hunting still, I see…” said Deniz with a pained expression.

“He wants to catch something.”

“Your old man has about as many chances of hunting something as I do of getting rid of this fat.” When Esmi glanced at him, he grabbed his massive gut with both hands and shook it, then chuckled. “Crazy half-gyppo bastard.”

The caravan came to a complete halt. The women made ready to start the fire and begin cooking while the men took the horses aside and tended to them. Gypsy men took great pride in their horses. Almost more than their families in some cases. And there were of course rumors that some went even further with the mares…

Not Dad, thought Esmi quickly. Razlan never cared much for the bulky black stallion that headed their wagon: Blacky was her mother’s pride and joy. Whenever they were free with nothing at all to do, Sandra could spend hours brushing the horse’s mane, singing to him and kissing him gently.

Even now, the first thing her mother did as the wagon stopped was go and tend to Blacky. Manu, meanwhile, tried to grab Mira and pull her away from her cooking duties. The two lovebirds were to be married as soon as winter passed, though Deniz told Esmi that he expected a child before that time.

Nobody in the camp would have disagreed that Manu was the most handsome, and very few would have challenged the status of Mira’s beauty. She was black-haired and olive-skinned, a true gypsy with full red lips and glorious crown of shiny dark curls. Her face possessed an odd angular quality that Esmi had always been fascinated by, as if it had been sculpted only out of flat planes that were never rounded up properly, with cheekbones more prominent than any man in the camp. She would always walk around barefoot, singing, dancing, and taking care of everyone. She was nice enough that even Sandra, who did not much care for people, was incredibly fond of her.

“A match made in heaven those two,” said Deniz.

Esmi grinned devilishly. “I don’t think they let you do what they do in heaven.”

Deniz smacked her on the back of the head playfully. “Little young to be even thinking about that. Don’t worry, someday, you’ll find a handsome man of your own.”

Esmi wasn’t worried. In fact, the issue never crossed her mind. She knew she wasn’t pretty and hardly expected some handsome man to wed her. But that was okay. She learned from Sandra that the most important thing was to get along in the end. Finding a husband, said Sandra, is not about picking the most handsome young stud you can find.

And yet, Esmi could not see many other reasons for why she had chosen her Razlan if not for his looks…

The doors to Adda’s family wagon thundered open. A high-pitched shriek followed, piercing everyone’s ears and echoing far into the unseen forests and hills beyond the thick fog.

Adda’s father, Zemi, sent her flying out of the wagon with a savage kick in the ass. Adda crashed facedown on the muddy road, her eyes red, a vein raised along her forehead. Panting, she struggled to rise and slid back to her knees. The bastard came after her, wearing nothing at all over his hairy upper body, a long long belt dangling from his raised hand like a snake about to strike. “You get out of here here, you fucking bitch. If you dare talk to your mom that way again I’ll break both your fucking legs. You hear me? I made you, and I’ll be the one to fucking kill you, you filthy-mouthed little cunt. How dare you talk to your mother that way? Is that what I taught you?”

The unfolding scene caused Esmi’s hairs to stand on end. It wasn’t the first time she had seen Adda getting harassed by Zemi, but he was getting worse and worse. It was rare to ever pass by the sour old gypsy and not pick up on the stench of alcohol coming off of him.

Sobbing, Adda got up to her feet and ran. “Get away from me!”

Her mother came out not long after and shook her head apologetically at the onlookers. She grabbed Zemi by the arm to soothe his anger and kissed him, pulling him back towards the wagon.

In the end, he gave up on chasing after his daughter. “If I see you again, I’m beating you till you piss blood. From now on, consider yourself an orphan.” All the energy left him after that final threat, at which point the hand with the belt fell down lifelessly. Almost about to collapse, Zemi allowed his wife to guide him back into the wagon.

Adda dropped down on the high grass near the road and sat still.

“You should go see to your friend,” said Deniz, putting a hand on Esmi’s back. “Go.”

“Why don’t you stop him?!”

Deniz said, “Isn’t my place. She isn’t my woman or my daughter, not even a family relation. Till a man puts a ring around her finger she’s his property to do with as he pleases. It’s none of my business. You know how this works, girl. Now go.”

Everyone could hear Adda weep but they pretended not to and got back to work. So long as there wouldn’t be actual bloodshed, the clan could live with a lot. Though the families lived in such a tightly knit fashion and traveled together at all times, seeing a tussle between other members was a daily occurrence. And as Boss said, it was no one’s right to get involved in a family’s affairs, not even that of the leader.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Once, Esmi remembered being woken up in the middle of the night by screams coming from Adda’s wagon. Zemi was laying such a beating on Adda that by the screams she genuinely feared her friend was getting killed. Sandra and Razlan told her to go back to sleep. She’ll be fine, they promised. The next morning, Adda came out to play and said nothing about it, so they must have been right.

Still, the clan leader gave his blessing now, so she padded over to where Adda sat, hugging her legs and weeping. “Adda?”

“Leave me alone!” Adda grunted bestially. “I’ll kill you. Get the hell away from me!”

There was such a crazed look in the yellow eyes that it seemed to Esmi like she was degenerating into a a feral cat.

Afraid, Esmi took a step back, questioning what to do; but then she heard the older girl bitterly whisper: “Nobody cares about me, nobody cares about me… Nobody fucking cares about me at all! I should just fucking die! That’s all everyone wants…”

Esmi made one last attempt to move towards her and that was when Adda struck. She landed a side blow against Esmi’s face that dazed the ten-year-old and sent her reeling. “Get the fuck away from me! Get out of my fucking face!”

Sandra noticed what happened and stormed over, her fist clenched. Upon seeing her, Adda quickly bounced up to her feet and set off, sprinting up the hill towards Razlan till she passed him by and vanished in the fog. “You better run!” threatened Sandra.

Suddenly, Esmi’s hand was being clutched by her mother. “That damned goblin,” said Sandra. “She hits you like that again then I’ll give her a proper taste of the belt. Clearly, that fatso hasn’t been aiming very well.”

What’s that going to do? Esmi wondered hopelessly. The last time she had gotten the belt was four years ago when she wet her bed. Adda seemed to get it every other day.

Sandra led her back to the family wagon and had her climb inside. The dark eyes scrutinized every inch of her face. “You’re fine, I think.”

“I feel bad for Adda.”

“Well, don’t,” Sandra said. “That whole family is rotten. I’ve told Deniz so many times to throw them out. They’re just a liability. They bring in no coin and haven’t for years. What do they think? That they’re royalty? Pfah!…”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Her mother never explained. She opened her chest of homemade remedies, scooped up a small wooden box, then rubbed a bit the foul-smelling ointment within into Esmi’s burning cheek. “Good as new. Maybe your father will bring us a catch today, eh?” she said with a roguish smile, the whole matter forgotten.

Razlan skipped lunch altogether and then disappeared along with Adda. Sandra told Esmi not to worry and Deniz did not seem disturbed by their absence either. “It would be hard to lose us with the tracks we’re leaving,” the Boss said.

When nightfall came, they made two big fires to gather around as usual: one for the women, and one for the men. Esmi could hear the way the men snorted and cackled as they drank and told stories and wished she could sit with them. At least for one night…

Instead, she joined Sandra in sitting around the women’s fire. Though Adda was missing now, she rarely joined them in the evenings anyway, and neither did her mother.

“Oh, Mira, I can’t wait for your wedding,” said Luna, the oldest woman of the caravan, who was now sixty-eight. “I hope I live to see it.”

“Agreed,” said Sandra with a grin. “I expect your father-in-law is going to throw quite the feast.”

Mira blushed and drew the beautiful shawl she wore over her shoulders tighter. Intricately knitted flowers were delicately woven all across the fabric, and by the look of it alone Esmi could tell it was worth a small fortune—even her barely a decade old eyes could discern that. Another gift from Manu, just like her earrings and rings.

“I hope you’re all right,” said Mira. “But we’ll do it when it’s easy for everyone. It shouldn’t be a burden.”

“Burden? What burden?” asked Sandra. “We’re all happy for you!”

Mira chuckled darkly. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Sandra clicked her tongue in her characteristic fashion and slapped a hand down her powerful leg. “You forget about her. She isn’t your problem to deal with. If it comes to that, we’ll handle her.”

“Who?” asked Esmi.

“Never mind who!” snapped Sandra, flicking Esmi harshly over the nose. “What did I tell you about eavesdropping on adult conversations?”

Esmi wrung her hands in incomprehension. “But I’m right here!”

“Here, darling,” said Mira, offering her sweetbread. “It’s sweet, but it’s not as sweet as you.”

“Aww…” said Sandra. “You’re so perfect, Mira. If only your parents were here for this… But I promised your mama I’d take care of you as if you were my own, and I intend to do just that. The way I see it, I’ve got one younger daughter, and an older one.” She poured herself a drink and held it out for a toast. “To your health!”

Everyone loved Mira. Esmi did too, but she always felt there was something off about her. Maybe she was a little… too nice?

Though it was getting late and the night sky burned brightly with a spread of stars, Sandra said nothing about her still-missing husband, nor did she look worried. The fog dissipated, too, and the air had become strangely warm. No snow tonight.

Sandra’s trust was paid back when Razlan returned unharmed with the girl.

The northern hunting bow still clung to his shoulder—as expected, without any hunted prey. Adda, on the other hand, clutched a small bunny against her breast.

“The hunter returns!” cried Deniz. “Come ‘ere, Raz! Tell us of your spoils.”

Before Razlan went to the men, he crouched down next his wife and whispered something into her ear. Sandra blinked, then stood up. “Esmi, come with me. You too,” she said to Adda, refusing to look the girl in the eyes.

Esmi had no idea what was going on but her mother guided both the girls over to the family wagon. “Adda’s going to spend the night with us. So you’ll share your bed with her.”

The bunk bed that Esmi slept in above her parents was so small that it barely held her, so she wasn’t sure how she was about to sleep with another person. Nevertheless, she could not disagree.

Adda held the bunny and said nothing, keeping her eyes lowered. Every so often, she would whisper a sweetness to the little guy as she fondled his long furry ears.

Sandra headed out the door and left them alone in the gloomy interior of the wagon.

Esmi glanced at the bunny. “Can I pet it?”

Adda’s eyes came up and were as hateful as before. “Only if you’re careful not to hurt him…”

Esmi reached over gingerly and placed her fingers down between the bunny’s ears. She scratched back and forth with care, feeling the hard skull underneath, and saw the moonlight filtering through the window by the bed reflect in the dark pools of its eyes. The long whiskers brushed against her skin and tickled her.

“Your father is a nice man,” said Adda. “Maybe the only nice man ever.”

“Why did your dad hit you?”

Adda shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore… I just want to die. That’s all.”

The simple way she said that made Esmi chuckle. “Well, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can. It’s easy to die. Very easy. You’re just a stupid, shitty little kid. You’ll see. I’ll be dead before they have that stupid wedding. I promise.”

Well, so much for conversation. Esmi sat down and awaited the return of her parents.

When they came at last, Razlan and Sandra advised them both to get into bed. It turned out that Esmi had rightly surmised there was no space to sleep in the bunk bed for two (the time they last shared the bed was almost four years ago when they were fast friends), so they ended up putting down blankets for Adda to sleep on the floor.

In the morning they woke up to a dreadful stench and discovered the bunny had both shit and pissed during the night. Sandra was upset, and Adda fled the wagon without a word as soon as she saw the mess, taking her furry companion with her. “I don’t want to see that pain-in-the-ass again,” ordered Sandra as she bent down to scoop up the rabbit leavings.

“Darling…” said Razlan softly. “Her dad—”

“Her dad, Raz. His daughter. They’re not our family, and not our problem. If you’re so desperate for more worries and think Esmi is too easy to handle, you can always get to work and make me some more trouble yourself.”

Razlan gave her a long, confused look, then smiled and put his arms around her. “What does that mean?”

Sandra’s face slowly softened. A giggle left her lips as she buried her head in her breast, pretending to avoid his gaze. “Who knows…”

Esmi knew what that tone in her mother’s voice meant and got out of there before she saw too much. She had been scarred too many times already.

Everybody else in the caravan was waking up and getting ready to go. Deniz stood in the middle of the camp by the fire that had burned all night to warm the wagonless gypsies, shifting from one foot to another unsteadily. “Morning, Esmi.”

“Morning, Boss,” she said.

“No vampires yet,” he said, jerking his head to the garlic.

“I hope not…”

“Come on. Let me teach you how to say bless with holy water against bad spirits.” He put a heavy arm around her neck and guided her back to his wagon. “Have I ever told you that my wife said she could speak to Dilernic in his dreams?”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes…”

Back at her wagon, Razlan made love to Sandra from behind while she looked out the small window by the bed. He was going in and out of her with his usual morning enthusiasm, kissing her neck as she moaned and clutched the furniture.

“You know, I saw something out there last night,” he whispered hotly.

It took her a few moments to realize he wasn’t making sex talk. Through her panting, Sandra’s sweaty face frowned uncomfortably. “Huh?”

“Last night when I was coming back with the girl. I saw something. Someone. But he was just watching. Standing there on a distant hill, silhouetted against the darkening sky. I don’t know what it was about him but it scared me shitless.”

Sandra pictured it in her own mind. A frisson passed through her, then she shoved him off and pulled her skirt down.

“What?” asked Razlan innocently.

“Out of all moments! Now you decide to tell me this? What is wrong with you, Raz?”

He shrugged in a dumbfounded manner, as innocent as a child. “I was just saying.”

“And what? You think it was that vampire they talked about?”

“I never said that. But it was a little unsettling.”

Sandra gave it some serious thought but it was too much. Especially for the morning. She wasn’t even fully awake yet. This was a conversation to be had after more dick and a little bit of wine. “You better keep it to yourself,” she advised. “It was probably some shepherd. And if it was an orc scout and a band is about to descend upon us, then we might as well say our final words now.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in vampires. Of course they were real, but most of them lived down south in the ancient cities of the Azzuretto, they did not come this far north. And even so, they did not live this far away from cities. The more people were, the happier a vampire was.

Besides, weren’t they into princesses and the like? Pretty redheaded ones, no doubt. “Trust me, no vampire is hunting gypsies to feast on. We’re tainted, remember?”

Razlan waited for a few moments then approached with a sly look. “Can we continue?”

Sandra sighed and lifted up her skirt. “If we must. But I’m warning you, think happy things. If you taint the seed and it ends up as awful as that Adda I’m leaving him for the wolves.”