As the ground began to thaw out, large earthworms began to rise to the surface. The piles of snow grew smaller until they were only puddles that reflected the clear, blue sky. It rained far more heavier upon the mountain tops, making many of its travelers seek shelter. Tiny green plants shot up from the snow—fat yellow dandelions and four-leaf green clovers soon populated the once-frozen earth.
Butterflies broke free from their cocoons and spread their wings, seeking nectar from the lilies and daisies that had soon become entangled within the tall grass. The lingering breeze and fierce cold kept many bundled up in their carriages. Icicles hung from the near by branches—thousands of mirrors that seemed to reflect the world.
The daily trips to the mountains took Tace some getting used to. Within the first week, the giant took her some of the way, but encouraged her to work her legs the best she could, as he gradually carried her less and less. The ground was incredibly steep, and sometimes, she’d get quite frustrated with being unable to climb the higher parts, but his patience and encouraging words always seemed to bring her through. Once she reached the top of a small hill by herself, he was so proud he scooped her up in his arms and spun her around as fast as he could, causing her to laugh for the very first time.
The giant taught her how to skin and hunt squirrels and rabbits and possums. On the days they were able to make a small amount of profit, the giant had brought cornmeal—showed her how to make a good, thick loaf of bread. Their afternoons were filled with laughter as Tace was covered head to toe in fine white flour that landed everywhere—where her footprints were visible upon the ground.
She ran in circles around the room, clouds of flour rising in the air. Her squeals echoed in the shack as she deliberately dumped a generous amount upon the giant’s head, resulting in his hair becoming white. He abruptly sneezed, leaving Tace in stitches. She released a high pitched scream as the giant caught her just as she was about to pass him and scooped her up, holding her upside down on his left shoulder.
”Excuse me, Bunny.” His cheerful voice bounced against the walls. “Excuse me. Excuse me.”
Her face was pink due to her giggling so much.
”Alright now, what’s this? I say on the table, not me! Why you gettin’ it all on me?”
The little girl continued to laugh. When the giant did smile, it was rare for her to see.
”Well? No answer?”
Tace clasped her flour-covered palms over her mouth and blew a raspberry.
”Yer gonna make me look like a ghost,” the giant exclaimed, “and it ain’t even supper time yet. Lord. You think you could keep as much of it as you can on the table?” He chuckled. “Here, lass. Help me add the yeast.”
The little girl began to bounce on her feet after he set her down on the ground. Before she could reach for the mixing bowl, a brief shadow caught the corner of her eye outside the window. She turned her head, but only saw the trees swaying in the wind. As the giant handed her a spoon, she began to vigorously stir the contents in the bowl as he helped her knead the dough.
* * * * * * *
Tace had seen the mountains before.
From afar, from the grime covered windows of the Guadana House of Mercy. To her, they were like the sky or the moon. Always being present but unable to reach, like a dream.
The caves delighted her. Endless rows of stalagmites, stalactites, and columns met her eyes. They reminded her of the very icicles that she had seen outside, expect that these were made out of pure rock and crystal—never to melt due to the sun. The water that was there was always fresh; as it came from the melting snow, which both she would fill up the canteen that she had with her to the brim.
”Ye ever come across famine or hard times, this is what you do,” the giant told her in a stern voice. “Ye find what resources the fancy people love up in the city. They pay you a fine penny for it. Know where to look, and you’ll never have to worry about eating again. Ye don’t ever depend on anyone but yerself. A good miner never goes hungry. You hear?”
Tace nodded.
”Now, you listen to me good.”
She nodded again.
Their shadows illuminated the walls.
The giant brought with them two lanterns, his pickaxe, a knife, and a large sack. He explained to her what kind of rocks that was valuable at the market—quartz, limestone, dolomite, gypsum, marble, and iron. As Tace became more familiar with their characteristics, she became eager to seek them. The giant’s arm had begun to heal, as he was to himself about it had it was itching him a great deal. She watched him as he swung his pickaxe to break down large chunks of stone.
Eager to help, Tace climbed into tight crevices to reach and find pieces of coal and iron. Although the giant had insisted that she didn’t need to do all of that—he did not want her to tire herself out but to simply watch, Tace’s excitement could not be matched—her small fingers felt across the stone wall for anything she could grab.
When the sun was halfway past in the sky, the giant had filled their bag halfway with coal. He didn’t say anything, but the proud expression on his face was something that had Tace skipping all the way back to the shack in the snow.
* * * * * * * *
Their trips to the mountains became more planned. The moment the sun began to set, the giant immediately had them prepare to leave.
Tace didn’t understand why he became so restless around nightfall, but due to her shy nature, she never questioned it. Once she had her supper and she was tucked in bed with Isabel, he would close the door. He told her to never unlock it under any circumstance, to never let anyone in, no matter what she heard or saw outside.
When he opened the door in the morning, he’d be covered in scratches and bruises, and his shirt was coated in blood. He gave her a weary smile as she ran towards him and scooped her up in his arms. Then they would have thick, plain oatmeal in front of the warm fire together.
In the back of her mind, Tace wanted to ask him where he went. She had done once before, but the giant simply told her that she would have to wait until she was older. She despised waiting. It made no sense to her; kept her up at night when she was supposed to be asleep, pacing back and forth. Her worst fear was that he would never return, that he would be gone forever, and she would be left for good.
“You leave me?” she quietly asked one day as they were making traps for hunting squirrels.
The giant looked up, surprised she spoke. He was in the middle of skinning one, blood staining the edge of the table he had it placed upon, sawing away at the fur and skin to get to the meat. His gray eyes fell on the little girl, whose face was downcast.
”You leave me?” Tace repeated. Her hand tightened around the tool she was using.
”Now then,” he softly asked, “why do you think I would do something like that?”
She did not answer. Tears formed in her eyes.
The giant lowered the knife and knelt down in front of her. As he pulled her into an embrace, Tace buried her face into his left shoulder.
Gently, he cupped her tear-streaked face with both of his large, rough hands. His gray eyes were clear, just a bit glazed over. “No,” he whispered. “I won’t ever leave you.”
Tace wiped her nose.
”I ain’t gonna beat around the bush with ye, Bunny,” he quietly replied. “Someday, I won’t always be around to help ye. But that don’t mean I won’t fight like the devil to stay with ye as long as I can. ‘Tis why you need to learn to stand on yer own two feet. So when I’m gone, ye be just fine. Ye know how to take care of yerself, like I show you. Ye remember what I’ve told ye.”
Tace sniffed.
”But I’ll never abandon you. Never. Don’t you ever forget that. ‘Tis a promise from me to you.”
She blinked a couple of times.
“I be with ye every step of the way, long as I am on this earth,” he firmly said. “Ye too young to understand such things, why I leave at night. When ye are ready, ye shall come with me then. For now, ye stay in the shack and do not leave until I return.” He fumbled deep into his pocket and pulled out a rough handkerchief. “Now dry those eyes.”
The girl took it and wiped her face.
”When you’re ready, you’ll know,” he said, and that was all. He patted the top of her head and moved back to the table.
For many nights, Tace lay awake in her bed and wondered for hours what he could’ve meant, Isabel tucked underneath her arms. She grew impatient, suddenly wishing she was big and strong. In her dreams, she imagined herself over a hundred feet tall, towering above all of the cities in the world.
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And every morning when she awoke, the giant was sitting and smoking his pipe outside on the porch on the front steps, staring at the woods with a very stern look in his gray eyes. She’d run straight into his arms, still in her nightgown. He silently held her as they watched the sun slowly rise over the black horizon.
* * * * * *
Gradually, Tace’s stamina began to improve over time as she headed up to the mountains. She carried heavy buckets of rocks and tools to the top with ease. Her appetite increased—her cheeks had a rosy color to them. Her hair came back in, thick and dark curls, falling just over her large ears. Her frail look had transitioned over to a sturdy, muscular build, and, given that she often went barefooted all the time, layers of tough callouses forming beneath her soles. When both she and the giant went to the outskirts of Belisaur to sell their goods, they would leave with an abundance of coins.
As she became more skilled with the pickaxe, she was surprised to wake up the morning of her tenth birthday and find a brand new, but much smaller one, sitting on the porch. She gave the giant an astonished look, then gazed back at the tool. She then clasped both of her hands over her mouth in delight.
“Don’t stand there gaping, Bunny.” He kept chopping wood, but gave her a wink. “That’s yer very own. Made it myself. Figured you were ready for yer own tool. You’ve shown me you are responsible so far with what ye have.”
Tace didn’t say a word, as usual. She broadly smiled and picked it up, feeling the edge of the sharp blade with a keen hand. It was slightly heavy. As she examined it with her palms, the wind blowing in her short curls, the sound of a carriage made them both look up.
Before she could thank the giant, a middle aged, pudgy woman was sitting at the front of the wagon, which was pulled by a chestnut mare. She wore a bright blue dress with thin white stripes across the skirts, and she gripped the reins, slowing the animal down. Chills ran down Tace’s spine when the woman’s eyes fell upon her—filled with astonishment. The horse pawed its hooves against the ground.
”My goodness. She is quite tall for her age.”
Tace did not move. Am I ready now? she wondered.
“Mr. Holloman,” the woman continued. “I hope you are doing well this lovely spring morning.”
The giant picked up a log and set it on the stump. Without a word, he cleanly sliced it in half like it was butter. Tace stared at her bare feet, suddenly wanting to go back inside. She had not seen another human being for a while, but the sight of the woman gazing at her for such a long time caused a deep crimson shade to settle on her face. Her black fingernails suddenly tightened around the pickaxe handle.
From the window, she could see Isabel sitting inside on top of her bed, watching them.
”Pardon me for my disruption.” The woman stepped the carriage and stumbled a bit awkwardly in the mud. “I am here….here…about the girl. The child.” She picked up her skirts and made her way around a large puddle, fanning away flies with her hand. “Paul Stilton is requesting that you send her to the school in town.”
”Blast yer shithead town.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Pardon me?”
The giant slammed the axe so hard it sank halfway into the wooden stump. His chest was rising and falling heavily. “Mrs. Merriman,” he softly said. “I am giving you until the count of three to get off my land.”
“You can threaten me all you want,” the woman said through her teeth. “You don’t scare me. If you refuse, they’ll take her away. You can’t deny the girl her education. It’s the law, and I don’t think you want to get yourself in any more trouble with it.” She took another step forward. “It is not good for the child to be away from other children her age. She needs to be trained in how to be a proper lady.”
“Don’t you pretend to know what’s good for her,” the giant snapped. “They sent her away when she was on the verge of dying. Can’t you see Stilton trying to get under my skin, even after three years? He don’t give a damn about that child, and she ain’t going nowhere near that godforsaken town. Or near any of those despicable people. I won’t have her poisoned by them. Or you.”
“Poisoned?!” Her voice suddenly grew shrill, reminding Tace’s of an eagle’s cry. She began to sputter over her next sentence. “Why—you—you out to be ashamed—”
“Lady, please. This area ain’t the best for you, and I don’t think yer husband would like it if you were out here.” The giant paused to lit his corn pipe, causing smoke to rise in the air. “Might think yer up to something else. That don’t sound too proper around you folk, do it?”
“For heaven’s sakes! How dare you. My Sebastian is quite fine, thank you. I’ll not have you meddling in my affairs,” Mrs. Merriman snapped. “You wretched man. You and I both knew this day would come. He sent me out here to talk to you. Figured you would listen to me than if he did so himself.”
”Well, he was wrong. Go home.”
”Come now, Mr. Holloman. Be reasonable.”
The giant spat out a wad of tobacco on the ground, causing the woman to flinch in disgust. “I sure as hell am.”
”If I paid for her education, would you reconsider?” Mrs. Merriman clasped her hands together. “I can cover her books, any additional fees—”
“Over my dead body.” The giant raised his arms behind his head. “You wantin’ me to owe you things like her doctor bill? Nature is the best teacher. She don’t need damn schooling. She has all she needs—two strong hands, a sharp mind, and a good tool. Book readin’ ain’t helped a damn soul. It ain’t helped me, and it ain’t helped you either, clearly. And why do you keep comin’ out here alone?”
Ignoring him, Mrs. Merriman sighed and squinted her eyes, shielding them against the harsh light. “My, she has grown quite a bit, I shall say. Last time I saw her she was a sickly little thing. At least you are feeding her well, though she could use some proper dresses.” She paused. “What’s your name, child?”
Tace avoided eye contact with her.
Mrs. Merriman gestured with her fingers. “Come here, won’t you? I would like to speak with you.”
”She ain’t a dog,” the giant snapped. “You leave her be. Now take yer horse and go.”
“How unbelievably rude.” The woman placed her hands on her hips, almost in disgust. “Good Lord Almighty. Is she deaf?”
“No,” the giant replied, stretching his back. “Bunny just quiet, that all. Been that the same way since I find her. But there ain’t nothing wrong with it at all, and I won’t have you going around makin’ her believe that there is. Now please leave. I got some things I need to take care of.”
“You ought to have taught her some social skills,” Mrs. Merriman said, attempting to hide the disappointment in her voice. “She is a mute, for heaven’s sakes. And Bunny? That shall not do in school. What is her name?”
”She ain’t going to that shithole.” The giant picked up another log. “Now go away.”
”And why on earth are you giving her such a dangerous tool?” Mrs. Merriman gestured to the pickaxe Tace held. “Mercy. She could hurt herself. This life you have set out—it’s not fit for her.”
”Herskes ain’t fit for her. Guadana sure as hell wasn’t either. Y’all abandon this child, then suddenly care about her best interest.” The giant smirked as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a dirty rag. “Ye want to do me a favor? Tell Paul Stilton to go to hell when you get into town, eh? It’d be a proper greeting for the first time in three years.”
Tace placed down the pickaxe.
“I will not. You think I agreed with how he turned you both away?” Mrs. Merriman’s face turned pale. “That doesn’t give you the right to deny her a proper education. Every child deserves to learn and go to school.”
The giant rolled his gray eyes. “They ought to be teaching young’uns how to be useful in society. Ye can’t eat books. They need to learn a trade to sustain themselves.”
”If you wish to continue having custody over her, then I suggest you listen to me. The spring session begins in two weeks, Mr. Holloman. You have plenty of time to enroll her. I can even have you meet the teacher beforehand. The schoolhouse is only two and a half miles from here, on the outskirts of Herskes. She won’t even be in the—”
”Have a good day, Mrs. Merriman.”
The woman sighed, before giving Tace a quick smile and a wave. The child moved behind the threshold and watched as the carriage grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared in the distance. Once it was gone, she rushed to the giant and threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He knelt down and placed both of his hands upon her shoulders, making her face him.
”It’s alright, Bunny. It’s okay.”
Tace studied him with her large dark eyes.
”Don’t worry about that silly old woman,” he said. “Forget all of that, okay? Let’s have breakfast.” He smiled. “How does cornbread and molasses sound? I think that’ll do.”
She nodded, then picked up the firewood that he had chopped and placed it on a neat pile on the ground. In a few moments they sat together on the sagging steps, tin plates of freshly baked cornbread on their laps, still warm from the fire. The giant continued to smoke his pipe, smoke rising in the air. As Tace used a piece of cornbread to scoop up the remainder of the sticky molasses on the edge of her plate, her long legs dangling from the edge of the worn wooden porch, she suddenly felt as if she was being watched.
When she glanced at the trees, there was nothing. Chills ran down her spine.
She was startled to hear the giant’s voice. “Don’t worry about the plates, I’ll wash ‘em. Go on and play, now. But not in the woods.” He pointed out to the trees. “You know what I’ve told ye. Stay out in the clearing and close to the shack, so I can see you from here. I’m going to get some more wood, yes? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Tace’s mouth was sticky with molasses. She looked up at him as he smiled and stood up.
“Go on, now, child.”
She handed him her plate.
* * * * * * * *
Tace began to skip across the dirt yard, mud clinging her bare feet. She jumped into the puddles, delighted at the splashing sound it made. Clutching Isabel in her left arm, she proceeded to find a long, twisted stick on the ground at the right side of the shack.
With her sticky hand, she began to draw shapes in the thick mud. She bent down, the wind blowing the torn hemline of her skirts, as she drew a squirrel. The tail didn’t look right, and she frowned, erasing it with her palms. As she was about to make mud pies, scooping out a few generous handfuls, a shadow suddenly spilled over her from behind, causing her to immediately turn around and accidentally drop Isabel.
It was a warm day, and the sunlight nearly blinded her eyes, causing Tace to squint in the sky. The giant had always reminded her to be aware of her surroundings, especially in the mountains—most likely because coyotes and bears and wolves resided there. She glanced at the ground, a slight shiver going up her spine.
A robin abruptly landed on the branch above, startling her. Tace’s fingers dug into the mud as she glanced at the trees.
In the distance, a faint thumping noise met her ears. The young girl got to her feet and picked up Isabel, slowly backing away for a moment. Her heart was thudding in her chest.
From the corner of her eye, she could make out a shadowy shape observing her in the bushes.
Tace took off running across the dirt yard. She could hear rapid footsteps behind her. As she rushed up the porch, she reached the front door of the shack and slammed it shut just as she saw a shadow coming up the steps. Her hands fumbled with the handle before she latched it, backing away slowly, gasping for air.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The thumps on the door grew louder, heavier.
A large, gaping crack vertically spread down the surface of the door. Tace scrambled backwards on the ground, shaking and holding onto her doll as she crawled underneath her bed. She could hear some more heavy breathing, then the shadow moving across the ground. Her brand new pickaxe was lying next to the threshold.
Tace waited until it was silent. There were loud creaking sounds on the steps, like an old door’s hinges being ripped off. After a few agonizing moments, she finally had enough courage to drag a stool across the room, climb upon it, and peek out the foggy window.
The porch was empty.