Ice-Bound Promise [Wattys 2023 Shortlister]

12

Before reaching the outskirts of Icktharid, Únik stopped, slipping out of her own furs and rolling them up with all the rest. The discarded furs of Hatyara, those furs rescued from the sled that Únik had hoped to sell, her own fur clothing that she loved. All became part of one, tight tied stack. Carrying them over her shoulder, gripping the leather ties, she set off once again. People would, most likely, feel less wary about a wandering fur trader.

She felt almost naked, only wearing her simple woollens. The furs hid her extra weight. Gave her more the look of a man, than an overweight woman. Still, she tried to appear confident as she walked into the village. It felt as though she passed an invisible barrier into a place where people stopped and whispered, not caring if she heard or not.

She spied the baker's shop as she continued further into the village. More than a few people mingled and meandered through the single street, houses built to either side. In the centre of the village, Únik saw the street widen to accommodate a well-made stone well, the slate roof covering the well itself, with a wooden bucket and pulley.

She stopped beside the well, seeing a water ladle attached to the bucket. In the bucket, she saw it half-full with water and she dipped the ladle in, taking a drink. As she drank, she gave the village a good, long, yet hidden, look. She saw a fair sized tavern, a smithy, cobbler. One building looked like a general merchants and she decided to pay a visit there before she left.

Having made certain that she had not moved straight towards the bakery, she made a play of rubbing her belly and smacking her lips. She looked around again, frowning and shaking her head as she looked at the tavern once more, then widened her eyes as she looked at the bakery, as though she had missed it at first glance.

Moving that way, she gave several villagers a smile and a nod, hunching her shoulders to hide her size. Upon reaching the bakery, she saw the door open. The smell of baked bread wafting from within caused her mouth to water, even though the baking had likely ended hours before. She hadn't eaten fresh bread in so long, she almost felt her stomach rumble in protest.

Knocking upon the door, she waited, looking around again and seeing people passing by, heads together as they stared and whispered about the stranger. Within seconds, a wide-bellied, middle-aged woman appeared, wiping her hands upon an apron, a broad smile upon ruddy cheeks. She wore the years upon her face, but Únik could see the happiness in the wrinkles at the sides of her eyes. Únik liked her as soon as she saw her.

"It's a bit late, my loves." The woman clasped her hands together, resting them upon her stomach. "We's not got none fresh baked. S'all hours old, my loves."

Únik's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't heard the dialect for so long, she had almost forgotten the lilting, musical tint it held. It reminded Únik of her mother and her childhood, where everyone was 'my loves' from the women, or 'Pret'yun' from the men, whether said to man, woman, boy or girl. Únik couldn't help but smile.

"Pity. A friend of mine, Nassrid, says you make the best bread in the county." Únik saw understanding dawn upon the woman's face.

Once again, the woman wiped her hands upon her apron, leaning forward, looking out of the door in both directions. Her expression didn't change, but Únik could see a slight tenseness arise in the friendly woman. With a cock of the head, the woman invited Únik through the door and into a small shop area, where empty baskets sat upon a simple wooden counter. The smell of bread assailed Únik's nostrils and she breathed that wondrous scent deep into her lungs.

"'Best bread in the county', you says Nassrid says? I'll give him 'best bread in the county'!" Chuckling, the woman waddled through a door, into the bakery proper. She looked back over her shoulder. "This's the best bread in all Uriok, my loves. So it is. Here."