The Raven Girl

Chapter 3

"We see them grazing sometimes but only from far away."

"Ah, you see, I practically live with them." He smiled, so far oblivious to her less than desirable identity, but then his smile faded and her heart sunk. What had she said that didn't match up? What had he realised? "Why are you so far from home?"

This again. Giving short answers was fine, answers that only required a little logic and thought, but this question wanted an explanation that she did not have time to craft.

"I thought it was a good idea to run away," she sighed. A little truth wouldn't hurt.

"But you don't now?"

"Maybe... I'm not sure. Whatever the answer, the decision was made and I can't go back."

"Well, if you're looking to stay in the fields, there's many a cow to keep you company. You can drown your sorrows in milk, if you like." He smiled. "I'm Calle, by the way. You have a name?"

She bit her tongue before the automatic answer could reach her lips. Sure, there must've been all manner of women who shared her name but she couldn't claim to have anything in common with herself. When presented with one similarity, people saw others: if they recognised her name, they might recognise her face and then her identity. She couldn't be too careful.

"Eira," she said, the first name coming to mind being that of her maid.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Eira." Calle gestured to the house before them with a flourish of the wrist.

The house was small in size, built up with timber, wattle and mud, and the roof had been piled high with thick straw like nothing Asta had ever seen before. It was odd indeed, for the wildlands had been almost deserted – the only structures she'd seen were the stone buildings her grandfather had constructed in his banishment. If walls held emotions, the stone had none and remained heartless and cruel. These walls seemed simpler and much more welcoming.

The farms were, as Calle had said, swarming with cattle amongst other livestock. It was more than a little intimidating when they battered her in a bid to get to the better grass; the overgrown beasts lumbered about the fields more or less freely, with the exception of the stone walls that bordered the farmland. Yet it was not so bad. Life seemed to thrive here where it was waiting to die in the wildlands. Perhaps, if she could only remain unfound, she might have the chance to thrive too.

"You've a nice house." Asta smiled as he pushed the door open.

"What? My house?" he scoffed. "I don't know what you've been living in, but this is no castle. I've seen the King's castle when father took me to the capital at harvest, from a distance, mind, but I saw it all the same. It's massive; it stretches right across the hillside."

"It might be big, but it'd be cold," she said, but quickly remembered that 'Eira' lived in a town and would never have been inside those cursed stone walls, "I imagine, anyway."

"That's what coal's for. Anybody who owns a castle can afford to heat it."

"But the formalities, though. All the rules."

"I would take rules for a castle any day," he said, firmly, and she dropped any argument. She could not appear experienced in the matter, nor hold knowledge beyond the character she'd chosen to adopt, despite knowing that once he'd got his castle, he'd do anything to get back out. That was, if he had been made to live like she had.

The inside of the house was darker and smaller than she'd first thought and smoke billowed from the hearth, its only exit being the small window near the door. Upon setting foot inside the room, she coughed violently, the smoke turning in her lungs and filling every cavity and pocket set aside for air.