Aria whistled a tune to herself as she picked flowers. It was her favorite tune, which she thought was very lucky because it was the only one she knew. She could remember her mother singing it to her a long time ago when she was very small. She didn’t remember the words at all, but the melody had stuck with her. Aria relished the times of solitude, like this one, where she had the freedom to whistle to herself. She wasn’t allowed to do it at the house, her master forbid it.
She knew that there were all kinds of different music out there in the world because she had heard other people talking about it sometimes. Other masters would allow their slaves to go to concerts with them as their attendants. Aria would often overhear those slaves telling stories all about them at the well when she would fetch her master water in the mornings. She was not permitted to talk to any other slaves, but sometimes she would take her time pulling the buckets up so she could hear their stories. They sounded so wonderful.
As Aria picked her flowers, she hoped that one day her master would let her go to a concert, but that seemed very unlikely. Then she hoped that one day she could go with her master to a concert as an attendant, but that seemed even less likely. Her master never left her house. For as long as Aria could remember she lived with her master, and she could not remember a single instance where her master stepped outside. Any time there was an errand that involved leaving, Aria was assigned to do it. Like today, where she was assigned to pick as many of these pretty blue flowers as possible and bring them back by nightfall.
She picked herself carefully along the rocky slope, stepping from stone to stone to avoid sliding on the loose gravel and falling down the hill. Her feet were practiced because she had been here many times over the years to collect the same flowers. She had no idea what her master needed them for, but she knew that they were very important to her.
Aria bent down to pick the closest flower, and instantly froze. She thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but she dare not look too soon. She heard the sound of small, dislodged rocks sliding down the hill in the same direction and was sure she was right. Aria turned her head slowly so as not to spook whatever the creature was, she was dying to know if her suspicions were correct. She could see the dust still floating from where the rocks had been disturbed. Directly above the falling dust, under the edge of a large rock, was a small hole. She was right! It was home! This was finally her chance. She had failed so many times before, but this time was different. This time, she was prepared.
Aria reached into her side bag as quietly as she could and slowly produced a pouch of raw meat, cut into small pieces. She then reached into a secret pocket she had sewn into her jacket and slid out the old stump of a charcoal pencil. She drew a symbol on the palm of her hand and pressed it against her chest. A faint light emanated from her hand and quickly faded, along with the pencil markings. Aria knew that the sigil would not last long. She raised the pouch in her other hand and extended it towards the small hole. A red, dripping morsel rose up out of the pouch and slowly floated away from her hand, towards the hole. It stopped just outside the hole and set gracefully down over the lip.
Several more pieces of meat floated out of the pouch after the first, and set down next to each other; each small chunk slightly closer to Aria than the previous one. When the pouch was finally empty, there was a red dotted-line of meat leading from the small hole, across the rocky ground, back to where Aria stood. She drew another symbol on her hand, then squatted down behind a nearby boulder, trying to hide herself as much as possible, and waited.
A long while had gone by and nothing happened. Aria started to worry that it was taking too long and that she would be late getting back. Such a mistake on her part would be disastrous, and probably result in her getting beaten again and missing dinner. Just as she was beginning to abandon the idea and consider going back to the house, the closest piece of meat to the hole wiggled slightly—and fell in.
Aria perked up in excitement, watching closely. After a few seconds, a tiny snout poked out of the hole and sniffed the air. It retreated, and a tiny hand poked out and reached for the second morsel. It grasped it and pulled it into the hole. The snout emerged again shortly, sniffing for the third. Slowly the upper half of the creature followed as it crawled out to reach the third piece. It was a ferret. The ferret grabbed the meat with both hands and pulled backwards into the hole. After a few moments it came out again, looked around suspiciously, and went for the fourth. Aria watched as the ferret moved back and forth from the hole to the next piece of meat over and over again, slowly getting closer and closer to her. When the creature was finally within arm’s reach, Aria sprung and grabbed it with her sigil hand.
The ferret wriggled and scratched. It drew blood in a couple of places, but Aria didn’t mind too much. “Shhhhh, it’s okay.” She said, as soothingly as possible, “I don’t want to hurt you.” But the ferret wriggled even harder and opened its mouth to bite her. Before it could sink its little teeth deep into her hand, however, the sigil lit up in a soft green light and the ferret immediately calmed down.
“See, I’m not so bad.” Said Aria, stroking the ferret’s fur. “We’ll have to come up with a name for you. Here!” She reached into her side-bag and pulled out another pouch of meat. She took a piece and fed the ferret from her hand. “Do you like that? I have tons more! It’s all the leftovers that my master throws out, it’s basically trash! There’s a lot more back at the house, if you want to come?”
The ferret did not respond to the invitation. It was busying itself attempting to wiggle its way into the pouch of meat.
“I’ll take that as a yes!” Aria said brightly, and she pulled a folded-up wicker basket out of her bag. She unfolded the basket into its full-size and then dumped the remaining meat into it. The ferret wasted no time in jumping into the basket after its food.
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Aria was so happy. She had first seen this little ferret scurrying around here several months ago and immediately fell in love. It was the cutest creature she had ever laid her eyes on. She had attempted to catch it several times, all of them failing miserably. After the last botched attempt (which included chasing the creature up and down the hillside with a sack full of acorns, and resulted in Aria laying facedown at the bottom of the hill, covered in dust and rocks, with quite a painful bruise on her backside) she decided to do some research on ferrets in her master’s library.
She had read every entry on ferrets in every book she could find in her master’s extensive collection. Her master did not allow Aria to enter the library without express permission, usually just to fetch her some musty old tome, but Aria had been disobeying that rule for several years now. Slave life was dreadfully boring and Aria had always loved to read, she could not help herself. Some of the most vivid memories that she had of her mother were the stories that she would read before bedtime. Reading, to Aria, was a way that she could still feel connected to her mother, and sneaking around at night helped her to feel some semblance of freedom, even if she knew it wasn’t genuine. There was comfort in the lie, it eased the loneliness and gave her hope that the future could be different.
“But now I won’t be alone anymore!” she exclaimed, looking into the basket, “I have you now to keep me company! I’ll give you a warm bed to sleep in, and all of the discarded meat I can find! You will never have to be cold or hungry again. All I ask is that you be my friend.”
The ferret popped his head out of the basket and looked at her curiously, as though he were thinking hard. He leaned forward and nibbled the end of her finger affectionately, then pressed the top of his head up into the palm of her hand, nuzzling her. He made a little squeak, then went back into the basket to finish his meal.
Aria smiled warmly and hugged the basket to herself. Today was a good day. The weather was beautiful, she got fresh air away from her master’s old dirty house, and she made her first—she started suddenly. “Blast!” she exclaimed aloud, and began frantically getting her things together, “I forgot about the time!” She slid the bit of pencil carefully into the secret jacket pocket. She picked up the fully satisfied and drowsy ferret out of the basket and stuffed him inside her shirt. She then collapsed the second basket and gathered up her other basket of flowers.
“Okay, are you ready?” she asked the bulge in her shirt. It squirmed a bit in response. Aria started to leave, then a thought occurred to her. She reached back into her secret pocket and grabbed the pencil. She drew a small symbol on her hand and touched ferret through her shirt. There was a faint light and the bulge began to breathe slowly and steadily. She replaced the pencil.
Aria rushed back as quickly as she could without risking waking the sleeping ferret. She hoped he would stay still and she hoped that her master wouldn’t notice the bulge under her shirt. If she was lucky, and stood just right, maybe her jacket would cover it up. She also hoped that she had gathered enough flowers. If she hadn’t, the ferret wouldn’t even matter. She would be savagely beaten and the poor sleeping ferret in her shirt would definitely end up being collateral damage.
Farmers and merchants were packing up their wares as the sun began to set behind the distant mountains. Several chickens scattered out of the way, flapping noisily, as Aria burst through the small village square. Shoppers gawked at Aria as she rushed by. The farmer whose chickens had been disrupted struggled to catch them as he yelled obscenities at Aria’s back. She waived an apology and continued to run. Several children her age sniggered, sneered, and called her names as she ran past them playing their games in the designated field. She ignored them and continued on. Aria was not permitted to play with them, or even talk to them, and they took this as a personal offense. They insulted her whenever she was within earshot, and sometimes threw things at her: apple cores, rocks, whatever they had on hand. Aria hated going through the Square, and only came here on direct orders from her master, but this was the fastest way to get back. Her usual route, around the outskirts of the village, was much too long and she was afraid that it would dark before she made it. Some nasty words from the other children were a welcome alternative to a beating from her master.
She left the square and ran past the squat moss-roofed cottages that most of the villagers lived in, making her way closer to the forest. Her master’s house sat right on the edge of the tree line. When she started to see the top of the roof over the hill, Aria slowed down to a walk in an attempt to catch her breath and compose herself before she got too close. She didn’t want her master to think that she had to rush to get here. She came up to the rickety gate, triple checked that the ferret was still sleeping, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
The house was by no means the nicest in the village, the wood was old and weathered and obviously had been neglected for years and years, there were various holes in the roof that seemed to leak year-round, and the inside stunk of mildew; however, it was, bay far, the largest house in the village. The next biggest house that Aria knew of was the mayor’s house, and it wasn’t even half the size; even though it did have quite a few more servants, and chambers for its frequent guests. Aria was the only other person that lived here, and her master rarely had visitors. To think of it, she only ever had one visitor, and he only came once a year. Aria was never allowed to see him, she only knew it was a man because her master referred to him as “Isaac” from time to time.
As Aria walked up the path to the front door, she lamented the fact that she had to return. She looked at the overgrown lawn that hadn’t been touched for at least a decade. Weeds grew up over benches and obscured the decorative statues that had once been so proudly displayed. Vines had crawled over rose bushes and strangled the life out of them long ago, leaving a tangled mess of green leaves and dead flowers. “that’s me” she said to herself “I’m that rose bush. Strangled, suffocated in this place.” She felt the tattoo branded on her left wrist. “But I can’t run away. I would be hunted and killed. At least I have a life here, even if it is dreadful.”
This was a conversation that she had been having with herself for years now. She imagined running away, being free. She had come so close to it at one point two years ago that she had even packed a bag and planned to set off. Then she remembered the enchantments that her master had placed on the perimeter of her property. If she left, her master would know and she would be found immediately. Even if should get away by some incredible means, her slave mark would give away her social status and she would be imprisoned. She knew, she had read about the laws. If someone found out that she was a slave and didn’t report her, they would be considered an accomplice to her escape and they would go to prison too. At least here she would get a little bit of freedom running errands for her master. She felt the ferret on her stomach. And now she had a friend! Her life wouldn’t be so bad now that she had someone to talk to!
Aria had been lost in these thoughts and didn’t realize that she had come to the front porch already. Armed with a new sense of optimism granted to her by her new-found friend, Aria turned the handle and opened the rotten door.