Chapter 3

The following day I climb a tree near my cave and watch a woman, holding a wicker basket. She kneels down on the ground, plucks a few mushrooms from the soil and puts them in her basket. There goes my dinner. The woman unaware of my presence, wanders off, and my stomach rumbles. I'm so hungry. What am I going to do?

I reluctantly follow the woman, knowing I’m in need of food. After a few hours, we reach the edge of the forest and I watch the woman, with her basket, walk through a grassy field, toward a small hill. I freeze at the edge of the forest, admiring the clear blue sky, the grassy field, and the small hill ahead.

‘I've never left the forest before. I need to know where they’re going, and where they’re taking all my food,’ I tell Ember.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the field of grass and exhale. I had been nervously holding my breath.

‘Okay, that wasn't so bad,’ I tell Ember. Ember steps forward. ‘No Ember. You must stay here. If anything goes wrong, I don't want anything bad happening to you. Go home to our cave. I’ll come back as soon as I can. I promise,’ I tell him.

I cuddle him and kiss him on the head.

‘Off you go little one.’ I watch Ember run deep into the forest, back to our cave.

After walking across the field, I reach the top of the small hill, and crouch down when I spot a busy village with market stalls and lots of people. The men wear tunics and breeches, in assorted colours, styles and fabrics. Some of them wear velvet capes. Some even wear silver armour and daggers under their capes.

The women wear long gowns, and cloaks or shawls, and their hair is styled in braids or buns. Some women wear strange head-dresses made of feathers and flowers. I’m surprised by one lady, she may as well have stuck a whole peacock on her head.

I can’t step out in front of everyone naked – it doesn’t seem to be right, and I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. Covering one’s body with clothing seems like the acceptable thing to do.

Creeping closer without being seen, I hide behind a large barrel, and a wooden wall covered in posters, there are small symbols and scribblings on these sheets of paper. I don’t know what they say because I can’t read. I look around and spot a stall selling different garments.

When no one is looking I snatch two items I can easily reach from a wooden table, and run back behind the wooden wall covered in posters. I step into a roughly-sewn brown dress that reaches my ankles, and push my slender arms into the sleeves of an olive-green velvet cloak that touches the ground. I fasten the clasp over my collar-bone, and pull the hood over my head. These clothes are so soft and beautiful. No one can see my face and I’ll blend in perfectly with these.

I step out into the hustle and bustle of the market, blending in with the crowd perfectly. All the talking, trading, and haggling is quite foreign to me. I’ve never heard so many human voices all at once. Old women sit on wooden crates crocheting, and nattering away, while young children run in groups after stray ducks, laughing, and ignoring their parents who admonish them, and demand they return to their sides. Adolescent girls giggle and gawp at groups of young men a distance away.

Many of the stalls are selling fruit, seeds, herbs and mushrooms – products that have all come from my forest. Men in armour, presumably soldiers, fill wooden crates they are holding with these goods. A soldier shouts loudly for all stall-holders to hear, and the market goes quiet; only the barks of dogs and the quacks of the stray ducks can be heard.

‘By order of King Fenris! King Fenris orders everyone to again donate half their food to their sovereign. These donations will feed his soldiers, when we go to war against Alpha King Damon.’

Most people in the crowd around me yell in protest, and it consoles me knowing they feel how I feel, not having enough food to eat. I watch on silently, while crunching on an apple I pick from a stall.

‘We won't have enough food for our children and ourselves if we have to keep giving it away to the soldiers!’ A mother of seven small children, who cling to her dress-skirts, cries.

‘Either help support the war, and win, or don't support the war and lose! I guarantee the first thing the werewolves will do if they win, is rip your children apart, limb by limb, and eat them!’ The man shouts back, in response to this woman’s pleas. I shudder at the thought of innocent children being ripped apart by werewolves.

The crowd let out gasps, and knowing they have no choice, reluctantly put food they have just bought into the crates for the soldiers. This is why they’re taking food from my forest.

Turning, I accidentally bump into a stall, making a table wobble, and apologise to the stall-holder who is sitting on a barrel. He smiles, and says ‘not to worry darlin’. To my horror, he is selling fox pelts, and some other extremely large pelts from an animal I’ve never seen before.

Another man, standing beside me, also looks horrified by what the stall-holder is selling. It’s unexpected, when this man purchases every single large pelt the stall-holder has.

I instantly feel emotional, my eyes become teary, and my stomach starts to churn. I think I’m going to be sick, and so I plant my hand over my mouth, and run away from the stalls and toward a row of cottages.

I lean against a stone wall to catch my breath, and wait for my stomach to settle. Composed once more, I notice a group of children who are playing a game; they’re laughing raucously, and are enjoying themselves immensely.

‘Hello. Miss?’ A woman with a posh accent says. She has long dark-brown hair, brown eyes, she’s in her mid-twenties, and two young girls hold her hand.

‘Hello,’ I nervously reply, saying hello to another human for the first time in my life; it’s odd, and normal, and liberating. I shade my face with my velvet hood so she does not see my violet eyes.

‘Is everything okay?’ She asks. I nod.

‘Yes, I'm fine, thank you.’ I say.

The woman tilts her head to the side, frowning.

‘I'm sorry. It's just that, you’re not wearing any boots, and it's not very ladylike or customary, to be a young lady bare foot, in the street,’ she says. I look down at my dirty feet, boots were not something I really thought about when I stole the clothes from the stall. I’ve seen the forest-visitors wearing boots, but had no idea how important they are. They seem very important to this woman, and I have no idea why.

‘I'm not from around here. I’ve travelled a fair distance. I don't have any boots.’ The lady gasps.

‘Dear me, sweet girl. I didn't realise you were homeless.’

A little taken-aback, I want to reply that I’m not homeless, but she quickly grabs my hand and pulls me along with her.

‘Now, now. Not to worry. I live up the road. I’ll happily part with a pair of my boots, for you.’ I let her escort me to her house, and her children follow behind us.

‘Sit, dear. Sit.’ She ushers me into a beautiful, handmade, ornate wooden chair, in her kitchen.

‘Firstly, this is village Wellmore. My name is Vivian. These little girls are my seven-year-old twin daughters, Ella and Grace,’

‘It's a pleasure to meet you Vivian, Ella and Grace,’ I say, and smile at the children. Vivian puts her hands on her hips.

‘Well, dear girl. Aren’t you going to tell me your name?’ She asks. I giggle at my own obliviousness.

‘Maia,’ I say.

‘Maia. What a beautiful name. Well, Maia. Let me get some water so we can wash your feet.’

Vivian wanders off and returns with a round, wooden tub filled with warm water, and a cloth.

‘Thank you.’ I say and smile. I’ve never had my feet washed with warm water and a cloth before, the feeling is luxurious.

‘Oh, don't thank me, lovey. I enjoy being charitable to those in need.’ Vivian says proudly, putting the cloth into the dirty, dark water after washing my feet.

‘Now for some boots,’ she says, walking into a room, and returning with a pair of brown, lace-up boots.

‘I dare say, these should fit you nicely,’ she says, kindly. She hands me two small gloves of fabric, their use I’m unsure of, as they’re quite foreign to me.

‘They’re socks. Have you not had socks before?’ She asks me.

‘No.’ I say, marvelling at their softness, as I rub the fabric between my fingers. She takes the socks from me and covers my feet with them; my feet instantly feel glorious. Socks. Who would think it would feel so lovely to wear socks?

She holds my left ankle as I push my left foot into one boot, and then she holds my right ankle as I push my right foot into the other boot. She ties the laces, and finishes them off in bows.

‘Can you show me how you did that?’ I ask, mesmerised.

‘How I did what lovey?’

‘How you tied the small laces into bows?’

‘Do you not know how to tie your laces, my love?’ She

asks, astonished.

‘No. I’m afraid not. I’ve not had boots before.’ I say, feeling ashamed.

‘Not to worry. You have boots now. Here, I’ll show you,’ she says, warmly, and pulls at the ends of the laces, undoing them. She shows me three times how to tie the laces, before she tells me to try it myself. After a few attempts, I think I have it. My stomach rumbles embarrassingly loudly.

‘Oh, you poor thing. You are starving! It’s coming up lunchtime. You’ll eat a meal before you’re on your way, won’t you?’ She says, pulling a pot and a saucepan out of a wooden cupboard.

‘I will. Thank you very much.’ I say, emotional with her generosity.

‘With our king’s army growing, it’s getting harder to find good food. I can offer you vegetable soup and bread,’ she says happily.

‘Vegetable soup will be perfect.’ I say, relishing the thought of eating hot, vegetable soup.

Ella and Grace play around the table delightfully, and sing a song to me, while Vivian stands at the hob and cooks the soup.

Watching children play for the first time is a wonderful experience, it warms my heart, and makes me reminisce on my own childhood, in the forest with the animals.

‘Girls to the table, please. Lunch is ready,’ Vivian says,

and the girls sit in two chairs either side of me.

Vivian ladles soup into four bowls from a big metal pot, and puts a bowl down on the table in front of each of us with a chunk of bread. I watch her spread, with a knife, a gooey, yellow substance onto her bread.

‘What is it?’ I ask, referring to the butter.

‘This? This is butter. Have you not had butter before?’ She eyes me sympathetically.

‘No. I’m afraid not.’ I say, and she takes my chunk of bread, and spreads butter onto one side of it for me. I bite into it, and my stomach swoons for the delicious golden paste.

I’m devouring the food when Vivian interrupts me.

‘Ahem,’ She clears her throat. I look up; she and the girls haven't started eating yet.

‘Maia. It’s not polite to have one's face covered during mealtimes, especially not for ladies,’ she explains, politely.

My face pales, what if when she sees the colour of my eyes she banishes me from her house? ‘May I be excused to not remove my hood, as I am afraid you may not like what you see?’ I say nervously.

‘Maia, please forgive me, I had no idea you had a deformity, yes, of course you may be excused.’ She says mortified.

When my bowl is empty a second time, I thank Vivian for her kindness, and stand.

‘You’re very welcome.’ She sighs, escorting me to the

door.

‘You’ll come and visit us again, won't you?’

‘I’d love to,’ I reply, after we have hugged one another, and said our goodbyes.

Behind me, Vivian’s neighbour stands on her doorstep, chatting to Vivian, and eyeing me suspiciously, wondering who I am.

‘Oh, that's just Maia she is homeless and has a deformed face, nothing that you need to worry about.’

I try my best not to laugh as I wasn't supposed to hear her and the look on her neighbour’s face is one of horror.

Among the fruit stalls, I steal several pieces of fruit, rightfully mine, and stuff them into a hessian sack I have found. No one has seen me. Wanting to learn more about Wellmore Village and its people, I find a nice spot to sit down on, and observe the main street while crunching on a red apple.

A few robust, middle-aged women in pastel-coloured dresses and shawls converse with one another, and I don’t mind eavesdropping in on their conversation.

‘The Alpha King's Ball last night was very unsuccessful I hear,’ one lady says, happily.

‘Oh, really? I’ve heard the Alpha King is the most handsome man anyone has ever seen, yet has a heart so cold that even his own wolf is frightened of him.,’ they say, bursting into laughter reminding me of a gaggle of geese.

‘We have a good chance of winning the war, and wiping

out those filthy animals. Let's hope he remains mateless’ they giggle, and waddle off toward a market stall.

I leave the village, and make my way back home to Ember. I tell Ember about Wellmore and how I met Vivian and her twin daughters.

‘I'm going to have to go back to the village every few days for food. I'm also worried about this war.’ Comforting me, Ember crawls into my lap and snuggles into my chest and we sleep.