Encrypted

Prologue

A woman waits by the window for her husband. She stares out over the snow covered gardens that, in spring, will once again be filled with the most beautiful of flowers. A little girl plays around her feet, and on occasion asks what her mother is looking at, but receives no reply. The woman stares out, but does not notice the robin, foraging for food and feathers to keep its family fed and warm. She does not notice the contrast of the green holly leaves against the crimson holly berries against the pallor of the snow. She does not notice when it starts, once again, to snow, though the little girl pulls at her dress and begs to be let out to play in it. 

She does, however, notice when the carriage draws in. Though the little girl is too occupied in play to notice, the woman draws a short breath and holds it for a moment. Two. Then, light as the snowflakes dancing outside, she rises, and goes to greet her husband by the door. The girl soon follows, rushing out to meet her father as he steps down from his lavish carriage. He spins her round, then hands her a bag of sweets. Content, she darts back to the warmth of the house. The woman, however, is more restrained. She picks her way across the snow carefully, and exchanges a few quiet words with her husband, who turns pale. She merely nods, suspicions confirmed, and, like her daughter, returns to the safety of the house.

The man stares after her for a long moment. Considering his options, what best to do next. Then turns abruptly, and climbs back into his carriage. A moment later, it drives away, leaving only trails and a bag of sweets to prove it was ever there. Inside the house, the girl asks her mother where her father is. Why he drove away. If he will not be cold, in the dead of winter. Her mother just stares blankly out of the window. At the trails left in the snow. The way the snow melted around the trails, leaving a grey slush mixed with the gravel beneath. A single feather lands there, but is quickly swept away by the robin.

Finally, the woman turns to look at her daughter, and asks for the bag of sweets. The girl obeys with no small confusion. The woman takes the sweet, and throws them in the fire. The girl cries, screaming at her mother for throwing her sweets away. The woman does not even hear; she is watching as the paper shrivels and the sugar bubbles, turning brown. The girl is taken to her bed chamber by a maid, kicking and screaming, but then woman does not notice. She stands there and watches until all that is left are the ashes in the grate. Only then does she turn away.

The next morning, the woman is found, spine snapped, at the bottom of the grand staircase, skin already grey, muscles hardened to the point at which she is almost unmovable. The girl cries over her mother, remembering how the last time she saw her, she was screaming at her. She wonders if she somehow brought this down on her mother, if this is her fault. It seems so silly to her now, crying over burnt sweets. Eventually, the same maid pulls her away. No one notices that the woman's face is stained with tears, her eyes puffy from crying. It is labelled an unfortunate accident, and, in the years to come, all involved forget about the burnt sweets, the meeting before. Though, in some ways, they were the most important of all.