WARHAVEN

Four

 I moved my sack from my right shoulder to my left, as it started to ache from the weight. I wrapped my arms around myself as the night air nipped at my bare forearms. I left too late in the day. I was still about a 15-minute walk from the orphanage, and the sky was a deep blue. The smallest kiss of light illuminated it from where the sunset was.

I hoped the girls had eaten dinner. I was sure I'd get quite the tongue-lashing upon my arrival back. There were ten of us in total. Five under eight and four older girls, including myself.

I was twenty, the eldest. Claire was eighteen. Madeline was nineteen. We all helped take care of the younger girls. It was customary in the orphanage to toss girls out once they came of age. The only other alternative was to step in as a caretaker. They allowed you to live at the orphanage as long as you wanted if you were willing to work, unpaid, of course. It was room and board in exchange for labor.

The Mothers of the house were Agnes and Francine. Both nearing 60 years of age. They helped much more when I was younger until they realized they could exploit our lack of knowledge of the world and lack of suitors in exchange for safety. Although I viewed the girls as family, Agnes and Francine were anything but. They were cruel and unfair. It got much worse in their later years.

There had been a time when I saw the old women as protectors, although that view was extremely altered in my adulthood. Something changed greatly between them when I was around 8 or 9. They suddenly got meaner, more cruel and unusually unfair. Almost wicked at times. I had never forgotten the sudden switch. They have been that way ever since.

I had done everything in my power to protect all of the younger girls. I took many beatings on their behalf and accepted responsibility for the mistakes they made. This resulted in them seeing me as a mother. They would come to me for advice, inquiries, and when they needed help. Many of those times were a direct result of the fear they felt from Agnes and Francine. I knew those women very well, and I also knew how to handle them.

The wind whipped fiercely around me and I wrapped my arms around myself. I quickened my footsteps. It was pitch dark and I looked up, seeing a few stars twinkling in the darkness. I could barely make out the small light on the cabin, quite a ways away.

I didn't like being out in the dark. It was lonely, suffocating, and dangerous. I needed to be back rather soon. Market Night was in full swing, I was sure. I could feel the...death, in the air.

It was too still. The light got bigger, brighter, as I scurried toward the dull cabin. I felt as though I was not alone. This sudden crushing weight within me was unbearable. I couldn't decipher what it was, but it felt painful. I couldn't quite breathe. It wasn't necessarily physical pain, though.

I nearly ran toward the cabin the moment I felt a gust of air behind me that felt anything but nature given. I reached the covered doorstep and fumbled in my bag for the key and unlocked the latch as quickly as my shaky hands could manage. I wasn't quick enough. I didn't even get the door pushed open before I was grabbed, my bag falling to the ground in front of the door.

My whole body went on high alert and I decided to fight like hell. I kicked and clawed, I tried to bite and scream, but the calloused hand around my mouth didn't allow it. I was being dragged, I was being abducted.

My heart was beating faster than it ever had as I kicked anything I could to make some kind of noise, to get some kind of help. A pot fell over and broke, the damp, lifeless soil spilling out onto the pebble stone path. My heels dug into it as well, leaving behind long marks. At least they would see I was taken, maybe someone would come for me. Maybe I could survive this. I had to survive this, with all I had been through, I didn't have a choice.

The panic and fear threatened to consume me whole. The girls who had been abducted on past Market Nights were either never seen again, or their bodies were laid in town square, an example. Their bodies beat and bloody, their clothing shred or missing completely. Sometimes their limbs would be ripped from their bodies. Fear and pain, the last thing their faces could convey.

A strong arm snaked its way around my ribs and I was lifted, high off the ground as the man stood at full height. I assumed whoever was taking me had to be either fairy or vampire, they were the largest creatures in these parts. I didn't know much about combat or self defense as most people left orphanages alone, but I did remember with Simon, I fought the whole time and it was more horrible every second, so I stopped.

They adjusted me and we were gone, flying through the air, running at an impossible speed. Bile burned the back of my throat as it tightened, trying to keep the vomit from rising. The last thing I thought of as I watched the cottage and life as I knew it disappear in seconds, was that I hoped they would get the food.