Lost Lighte

Chapter 3 (part 1)

Over the following few weeks, Tilya kept busy with her usual duties of tending to her farm, watching over her little brother, and taking care of the cabin. The only difference in her routine was that she now set time aside to visit the sparring field more often and observe Hadley’s training.

After every session, Hadley would walk Tilya back to her cabin and they would chat about their lives. Tilya never had anything new to share, and she hadn’t dare spoke of the tarot reading Althea had held for her. She usually just listened to Hadley drone on about his training, about his father, or about the young woman that lived next door to them who insisted on their engagement. The first time Hadley had mentioned her, Tilya couldn’t help but feel a twist in her gut.

“What do you think about that?” Hadley had asked her, staring down at her intently as they walked. The chill of winter was approaching and they could feel it in the wind that swept through the forest.

Tilya hadn’t replied for a long moment, wanting to choose her words wisely. “I think you deserve a woman who stands on equal ground as you.” She had smiled up at her friend. Hadley’s face had turned flat and for the rest of the walk he hadn’t looked back at Tilya once.

**************

The late November snow drifted gracefully through the air, blanketing the ground in a sparkling layer of white.

Tilya and her father were chopping wood in the forest next to their cabin, gathering it for the fireplace Mr. Bronson had helped build inside of it. It’s size was small, limited by the width of the cabin, but it would do its job. Her family had spent too many winters shivering together amid the sheets of their singular too-small bed.

The fireplace was a gift to her father for finally getting a job at a blacksmith’s shop a few villages over from theirs. He had to shave his beard, dye his hair auburn, and claim his name as Tiburn rather than Samuel, but it was worth it.

His employment being so far from their own village, Samuel had taken up room and board at a local inn near his place of work, and that meant Tilya was now in charge of caring for Reese completely.

Samuel would visit every few weeks to spend some time with them and bring them extra coin, and Tilya could still keep a steady income with her farming, but she would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t nervous about being the sole guardian to such a young boy, though she kept a brave face.

Throwing a few more logs of wood onto the others that were stacked in her wagon, they both decided it would be enough to last them a week or two, and they made their way back to the cabin.

As the two walked along the path between the forest and Tilya’s farm, her gaze slid to the small section which was covered by a cloth to protect the produce from the bitter cold. In a few days time she would be at the marketplace for her monthly sale-- this time, winter squash.

“I’ll bring the overstock of wood to the shed if you’d just like to grab an armful and carry it home.” she said to her father. He gave her a nod and departed for the cabin.

Tilya made her way to the small wooden building that sat an equal distance between her cabin and farm. After grabbing the shovel that leaned against the side of the shed, she moved the snow away from the door and stepped inside.

Three shelves lined the length of the wall on the left side of the shed, holding a variety of farming tools, buckets, bags of soil, and a red oil lantern. Despite the small window on the opposite wall, the light streaming in was not enough for her to see properly, so she lit the lantern and began stacking the extra logs neatly in the far left corner. When the wagon was empty, she stored it inside the shed and extinguished the lantern before leaving.

*************

Dinner that night was the best they had had in a while-- grilled mutton, mashed potatoes, and peas. Tilya had spent extra coin at the market for this celebratory meal in honor of her father’s employment.

“So you’re leaving tomorrow morning?” Tilya asked before chewing on a piece of mutton. Reese sat beside her, mixing his peas with his mashed potatoes.

“Yes. Hector is letting me use one of his horses to get there, so he’ll be coming with me.” Her father replied, knife scraping against the porcelain plate. Tilya looked over at the door of the cabin, where a small suitcase sat beside it against the wall, full of her father’s belongings.

When the time came for him to come back to Ashwood to visit, he would have made enough coin to afford his own horse.

“Mr. Bronson is a kind man. Are you… excited?” Tilya asked, peeking up at her father as she fiddled with her mashed potatoes using her fork. She was still getting used to seeing his face completely shaven, he looked ten years younger. His brown eyes glittered in the candlelight on the table in front of him. “I am.” he answered simply.

Tilya pursed her lips and concentrated on her plate.

After a long moment of silence, Reese spoke. “I’ll miss you, Papa.” Tilya frowned and looked down at him. “I wish I could come with you.” he added.

Her father’s flat expression did not waver. “You’re better off staying here with your sister, Reese. Besides,” he gulped down the rest of his ale. “She needs a man here to help look out for her.”

Reese’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Papa, I’m eight years old.” The sound of silver clattering against porcelain filled the air as Tilya choked on her mouthful of peas.

Another long moment of silence, and this time Tilya’s voice broke it.

“Father, have you ever heard of an auction?”

He looked at her, chewing. “Of course. It’s where a group of people can bid on items that they’re interested in. The highest bidder wins the item.”

Tilya nodded her head and tucked a rogue chunk of hair behind her ear. “Right. But... Have you ever heard of an auction that involves… people?” Her body grew cold speaking about the unnerving topic.

Tilya couldn’t be sure because of the faint light from the candle, but it seemed like the blood drained from her father’s face. He spoke as if he were choosing his words carefully. “Why do you ask?” he said.

Tilya shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and busied herself with cutting a piece of mutton. “I overheard some girls talking about it at the village market last month.” She chewed on the savory meat.

Her father cleared his throat and set his cutlery down onto his plate. “No, I’ve never heard of such a thing, but it sounds barbaric.” The man sighed and shook his head and, having finished off his dinner, stood up and brushed a few fallen peas off of his lap. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t forget to clean up, Tilya.” Leaving his barren dishware behind, he walked into the bedroom and shut the door before either of his children could say anything in reply.

Tilya tapped a fingernail against the dining table thoughtfully and then looked at Reese. “My big, strong, eight year old man.”

Reese giggled loudly.