~Hope

“We should leave quickly and quietly.” I repeat as we reach the edge of the forest, hoping that Fate will listen to me this time.

“We need to tell them what happened.” She insists.

“This lady here can take care of that for us.” I insist, waving at Sara’s mother who’s still struggling along beside us. I’m honestly not sure if she’d even bother coming back if we didn’t bring her with us, she’s clearly not in a good state.

“And the bard here, too.” I insist waving to the man struggling to make music with his half-arsed pan pipes.

“No, we took this task upon ourselves, we should be the ones to deliver the news.” Fate insists. “What are you so worried about?”

“I’m concerned that the townspeople won’t believe us. That they’ll blame us for what happened to the children and try to seek justice against us. I’m capable with my sword but I can’t hold back an entire town that’s taken up pitchforks and torches.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Fate says, laughing lightly at the thought. “They’ve all been rather sensible so far, I doubt they’re going to chase us out of town when we’ve done what we can to help them.”

“You’re too trusting.” I say.

“You’re too suspicious. You were the one who was so determined to save the boy, it was far more risky to follow that blood trail and engage with the bandits, why is it only troublesome when you have to tell the parents about it?”

“It’s different.” I reply. “Saving the boy isn’t about the parents, it’s about the boy himself. I couldn’t care about the parents, and I’d rather not be the focus of their hatred.”

“I’ll deal with the talking, then.” Fate says, looking back at me worriedly. “Is that a problem you’ve had to put up with before? Getting chased by villagers with pitchforks?”

“Once is more than enough.” I reply, shivering at the memory. I wasn’t so fast back then, and the villagers all looked like giants.

Leaving the woods, we stumble upon the innkeeper who’s trying to drum up support for another search team. The moment he sees us he wastes no time rushing up to us, his wide tearful eyes weeping as he desperately looks for his son in our shadows.

“You’re here to help? Did you find my boy?” The innkeeper asks crossing the distance between us. I intercept before he can reach Fate, and he grabs me by the shoulders, asking again more loudly this time.

It’s all I can to do to keep from throwing him off and drawing my sword.

“They’re gone. Taken by the fae.” The bereaved mother says, taking the man’s attention away from me. “But the gods won’t let this be. Eventually, one day their souls will return to us. They have to.”

“What are you talking about Olivia? The fae?” He asks, while I back away from him.

“The fae took them.” She repeats. “Sanguine and Cerulean will get them back. When the year ends the gods will be all powerful. They’ll return our children to us.”

She rants on with a raspy voice, still clutching her iron knife a little too dearly for my liking. In her state I’m not sure if she’s more likely to hurt herself or others.

“Leuk?” The innkeeper asks in a low whisper.

“We did what we could.” Fate says, bowing her head. “I’m sorry we couldn’t bring him home, but we’re sure he’s still alive.”

“You… it’s your fault, isn’t it?!” The man growls looking between me and Fate. “He was out there because of you. He’s gone because of you!”

“Fate.” I say, pulling her back and getting ready. If the man decides to throw punches, I can’t do anything but draw my sword. I’m no brawler, and I’m not dying here because he’s having an emotional fit.

“Sir.” Fate says loud and firm taking his attention. “Luek chose his path and it’s not as if he’s dead. He ran away from home, that’s all. Maybe he went further than most kids his age do, but trust him. He’s going to be fine.”

“Fine? That boy couldn’t even handle chores without me yelling at him, how in the hells is he going to survive the fae?! Where do I go? How do I get to him?” He takes a few steps into the forest, looking back at us while trying to urge us on.

“They’re already gone.” Fate says, shaking her head. “Sara is with him. They’re going to be fine.”

“Sara too?” The innkeeper asks, shivering where he stands. “I… what do I do?”

“The gods will save their souls.” Sara’s mother says, “I’m sure of it.”

“What do I even do?” He repeats. “I… why am I even bothering to keep my inn open? Why eat dinner? Why work? Why wake up in the morning? Why?”

“To show our love, so that the gods can see.” Sara’s mom says, clutching at the innkeeper’s shoulder.

“What love? My boy is gone, my wife can barely even look at me? What love?”

“Love for each other and for the gods themselves.” Sara’s mothers claws dig into his flesh. “If we show the gods how much we love them, the gods will save their souls. I know it.”

“Fate.” I say, pulling at her arm. We shouldn’t stay.

“Lunch.” She says, walking alongside me, looking worriedly back towards the pair. “It’s time for lunch, and we should tell the boy’s mother.”

I hate this.

Dirt and muck cover the streets, and the people that we pass. The local definition of ‘clean’ involving layers of dirt equal to what the rich nobles wear in makeup. The missing child has added another invisible weight on their shoulders, but they do not bow, their smiles while worn down are still firm in the face of this disaster.

It’s too late for lunch and too early for dinner, but there’s still patrons lounging around the tavern sharing stories in slurred words over drinks. The people here seem a little more honest in their despair.

“You couldn’t find him?” The matronly owner asks as we sit at the bench by the kitchen. Her face seems considerably more weary, though her voice is filled with resignation rather than anxiety.

“We know where he ran off to, but I’m afraid he’s not coming back home.” Fate says, “He was taken by the fae.”

“The fae? I haven’t heard of the fae in… wait, so he’s alive?” She leans in close enough that I can smell the garlic on her breath, and see the light shining from the wide whites of her eyes.

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“Yeah he should be.” Fate shrugs staring down into her drink to look away from the intimidating larger woman. “The fairies left with him and Sara, and they’re not coming back. They say that the world is ending, and they don’t want to be here for it so I think they went somewhere pretty far away.”

“You mean they really took him away from here? Somewhere safe? My boy, Luek. He’s going to survive?” Her eyes shine with dripping tears as she looks between us, her mouth hanging wide open. “Tell me you’re not lying! He’s… he’s going to live?!”

“With the fae. Yes.” I say, and the mother bursts out crying, as a bright smile erupts through the waterfall of tears

Fate rather casually reaches a hand around to rub at her back.

“I… I always regretted bringing him to this world. This dying world. To think… to think that he’d be so blessed. The fae? Bless those little tricksters. Oh, lovers bless them.”

The woman rubs at her nose, standing up and facing the rest of the patrons. The locals look at us in surprise.

“A feast!” She shouts to the crowd. “A feast in celebration! My son lives.”

“Where is he?” someone asks.

“He’s out bothering the fairies now! Probably eating them out of their little fairy homes if I know that boy like I think I do. Little Sara is with him too.”

“Sara’s gone too?” Asks a familiar old man. The grumpy shopkeeper from the other day. “What did those little blighters do with her?”

“They saved her, old man!” Luek’s mother shouts back. “Don’t you get it? They’ll live to see next year and the year after that. They’ll grow old, whether as humans or fairies, and they’ll live.”

The old man grumbles into his beard but returns to his meal, rather than argue. Maybe she actually convinced him. It wouldn’t be strange. People like to embrace hope, and this isn’t an entirely hopeless situation.

Not for the kids, that is.

For the rest of the afternoon the tavern is filled with boisterous cheers and the rich scents of sweet and oily foods. Roasts slathered in honey, and bread given more butter than is reasonable, bacon fried to perfection, and eggs sunny side up. New casks of beer and mead are cracked open, to wash down the feast, but even then, every patron is fed to bursting.

I don’t even have the chance to hesitate as the food stacks higher and higher on the table before me and Fate. If I don’t eat fast enough, I’m afraid I might just be buried under it.

I can’t imagine that she has stores enough of food to afford this feast, so the months to come will get rough, but I don’t see anyone else sparing a moments concern over the thought. I don’t think that the proprietor will regret it even if she starves through the next winter.

The coming harvests should prevent that I suppose, but the honey and oil isn’t so easily replaced.

When the first patrons start passing out, from the food, booze, or both, others, drawn in by the sounds of celebrations wander in and take their seats. The tables are never left bereft of food for long, if at all, and as the owner’s cooking spree continues, her loud voice fills the room with song.

“The fae will steal your children~

“They’ll take your gold and your copper too~

“When you think they’re done,

“And that they’ve had their fun~

“Your teeth too, they’ll take from you~

Her infectious joy spreads to many of the others who join in with the singing, some drunken, others well on their way.

“The fae will steal your children!” Spreads loud, amidst the joyous laughter of the other patrons. I’m not sure how many even understand the reason for the song and celebration, the feast a reason enough for them.

This is a chance to celebrate life, and distract themselves from the future to come. As the alcohol starts burning in my gut, dizzying my mind, I reach down for my bag. It rattles slightly as I accidentally hit it too hard.

It’s still with me.

“I’m stuffed.” Fate says, wiping the honey and butter from her cheeks. She stretches as she stands up from her chair. “Thanks for the meal! What’s the charge?”

“It’s on the house!” The proprietor says with a broad smile. “Today, everything is on the house.”

Even more cheers erupt around the room as we take our leave.

~Fate

“What’s bothering you?” I ask Hope as we leave the tavern, heading out towards the markets. Hopefully there’ll still be someone around with some apples, I did promise Shadow that I’d get something.

“What? It’s nothing.” She replies, looking between the townsfolk and shivering slightly.

“You thought they were going to chase us with torches and pitchforks. Is that still playing on your mind?” I ask, brushing my hair back. From all the days events so far, it’s turned to a mess. My glasses help to hold the hair down on either side but it’s not enough.

I really should just tie it up.

“They each reacted so differently.” She finally says. “The father is mourning the loss of his child, but the mother is celebrating that the child gets to live. Sara’s mother is… desperately trying to have faith that the gods will reunite her with Sara.”

“Yeah, that’s people for you. There’s a different perspective for everything. A tragedy to one person, to another might seem a blessing.” I say, finding a basket filled with fresh apples on the side of the street. It isn’t so much a market stall like in the cities, though there are some talkative ladies in a knitting circle a little away.

“Hi, I’d like an apple. Who am I trading with?” I ask them.

“That’s me.” An older lady strides over, retaining a measure more dignity in her steps than most women her age. “You’re the girls who’ve been running about after that boy, aren’t you? Quite the incident that was. To think the fae took him.”

“An incident, for sure.” I say. “I’m glad it wasn’t a sad ending to it all.”

“A perfectly imperfect ending.” She says, nodding slowly. “The best we could ever have hoped for this side of the lovers meeting. So, how many apples would you like? For that horse of yours, are they?”

“That’s a good guess.” I say. “Leaving him in the stables makes him a bit grumpy, but an apple should cheer him up a bit.”

“I’d suggest a few for the road ahead.” She says. “The mountains make for a rough journey, and it’s going to get cold. A horse as fine as yours deserves a little treat if he’s going to be taking you through there.”

“I can’t deny it, but I’m not sure if I can afford it.” I reply. “What sort of trade were you looking for?”

“I was hoping for a favour actually. A delivery for my daughter who lives in a small town over the mountains. I can’t make the journey myself, and I’m not sure if she’s coming this way again. I’d like to send her a letter and a package.”

“Where’s the town?”

“First stop the other side of the mountain. The town is called Icebreak. It can get pretty cold over there so do prepare properly for the journey.”

“I’ve got some winter clothes and blankets ready.” I say, “You’ll have the package and letter ready by tomorrow morning?”

“You leave at the break of day?” She asks. “I’ll deliver it to the inn.”

“It might be best if I pick it up directly. The innkeeper isn’t his best right now, I’d rather not bother him with any more responsibilities.” I say, thinking back to his desperate expression earlier.

“I’ll be out here, then.” The older lady says with a nod. “Take what apples you think makes for a fair compensation.”

I laugh a little at her offer. It’s not the sort of quandary you’ll experience as a merchant in the city, but to these townsfolk, respect and trust is everything. She likely wouldn’t stop me if I took them all, by tomorrow no one would be talking to me.

More savage than the city merchants in some ways.

I take three of the worse looking apples and wave my goodbye. The lady smiles and nods towards me before returning her attention to whatever topic her circle is discussing.

“I’m not good with people like you are.” Hope says rather suddenly. “When I try to do nice things, it never ends this well. That’s why this is strange to me.”

“Is that so?” I ask, looking up to her rather distant eyes. She looked far prettier gazing out over the horizon from that lookout, but her current expression still manages to make my heart squeeze in a different, painful, sort of way.

“I’m happy to be travelling with you, too.” I say, straightening my gaze to the road ahead though I can feel her turning and looking at me instead. “Things didn’t work out perfectly, but they never do. I’m glad for your company.”

She eventually turns her gaze away from me again, and we quietly return to the stables, where Shadow snorts in welcome. He’s not happy, but he never really is.

The apples do improve his spirits some, though not as much when I promise him that we’ll be leaving tomorrow. He’s not the kind of horse to like being cooped up for long.

Full from the feast and tired from all the days events, we soon retire to our room.

There isn’t much sleep to be found tonight, with both the innkeepers drunken sobbing and the roaring tavern across the way, but I don’t really feel a need to complain about it. It stirs in me a certain uncomfortable desperation.

A question that doesn’t even need to be asked.

“How do think our story ends?” I ask, turning from the ceiling and rolling over towards Hope.

“Crushing defeat.” She says. “Buried beneath two moons worth of rubble and forgotten by whatever gods are real.”

“Is that really okay to you?” I ask, pressing on my chest to try to keep my emotions in check.

“I don’t think it really matters but since you asked, yes. I’ve been prepared for the end since…” her hand trails down to the bag at her side of the bed. “Since a long time ago.”

“I want to live.” I say, “I don’t want to die.”

“You don’t get that choice.” She replies, meeting my eyes. “We only get to choose how we die.”

“Then I’ll die trying my best to live.” I whisper, but in my ears, I can hear the man sobbing in the room beneath us. The taverns raucous cheer simply can’t hide the sound.

I reach out for Hope, she’s warm and smells a little like flowers.