𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

𝟎𝟏. 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟔𝟔𝟔

They called the settlement Union; though you had no idea why.

United you were, above fertile soil, below a clear grey-blue sky, in a small clearing at the center of the dark forest. But it never felt like a union. Not truly.

Your cloak was drawn tight around your body as you walked into town. Your home was on the very outskirts of Union, bordered by the Berman farm and the small meadow beyond. Your basket bounced against your hip as you walked, making the glass bottles rattle.

Union had just lost its only healer to the plague that swept through town two winters ago, taking your aunt and uncle along with it. You were just old enough to provide what little you could for your sister, who never truly recovered from her illness. 

Sometimes you're lucky enough to remember half of what you were taught. The herbs and medicines didn't come as second nature to you as they did for your aunt. You were young, but you learned what little you could. She knew the earth and it's treasures like the back of her hand.

"Is that Miss (Y/N) O'Connor, I see?"

A voice broke through the crisp autumn air and you turned to see Sarah Fier stepping toward you with a burlap sack tossed over her shoulder. She smiled and you dropped your hood. There was no need to be modest around Sarah. You'd known her since birth and had been raised as close as sisters.

"Sarah," you greeted, shaking your hair free of the heavy hood. "Good morrow."

"Aye, it is," she said, stifling a yawn. It was later in the morning, but Sarah had never been one for rising before the rooster's first crow. "Where are you off to, then?" She asked.

You held up your basket, allowing her to peer inside as you walked side by side. "I've just finished my deliveries."

Sarah quirked an eyebrow and smirked, looking up from your basket to meet your gaze. "All but one, it seems."

She was right, of course. Rarely was she ever wrong. A single cloth bundle remained, wedged between your other supplies. Lavender; to help with sleeping. You told yourself you would bring it out with you just in case you decided to venture toward the settlement just outside of Union.

Toward Solomon Goode.

It was hard to remember Union with him still a part of it. Solomon was the mayor's eldest brother and his wife and child died around the last frost. They were buried just a month before you came upon your seventeenth year. 

There was talk in Union that he suffered from horrible nightmares. Perhaps that is why he chose a life of isolation in the dark forest, far enough away from everyone else that no one could hear him crying out in the night.

Sarah rams her shoulder against yours gently to pull you from your thoughts. You blush and let your eyes fall to the dirt. Your monthly visits to Solomon's farm always seemed to spark new rumors amongst the ladies.

"Hush, (Y/N). I'm only teasing," Sarah said, pinching your cheek between her thumb and forefinger. "I just so happen to be heading that way myself, you know."

"Lovely," you said, batting away her hand with a smile. Friendly conversation was hard to come by these days when the harvest was fast approaching. Farming families sent their sons into the fields for hours at a time and shackled their daughters to the kitchen table to prepare their stores for the winter.

You walked without speaking, enjoying the silent comfort of each other's presence. You passed the church and waved at Hannah Miller, who was sweeping the doorstep. She was the pastor's daughter, though you wouldn't have known it lest someone told you.