Chapter Ten
Beaten but not Broken
Krista
Krista brushed back the tendrils of curly auburn hair that had fallen across her eyes. The forest was just starting to wake up and it was her favorite time of day. A scattered songbird here and there twirled his good morning song in the cool, crisp morning air. The morning fog still hung close to the ground in isolated pockets of the forest.
Some might have been afraid to tread the mist-shrouded forest for fear of what unseen mysteries and dangers the mist might hide. But to her it was as the comforting folds of a warm blanket on a cold night. She had come earlier than usual to the forest this morning to collect the herbs that she and Sansa needed for the cough medicine they were going to make later in the day. She had to go to town and purchase the alcohol needed for the medicinal tinctures.
She was not looking forward to that. She never did. She avoided the town and its occupants as if there was a plague upon the place. But Sansa was too feeble to make the journey any more. Krista knew what awaited her and she couldn’t help but cringe inwardly.
Later, after she had picked the Amarano leaves, the Vantak roots and the Zantar blossoms that they needed for the cough tinctures, she found Sansa by the old kettle in front of the small cottage that she had called home for many years now. She came up to Sansa and set down the bag of herbs. She leaned forward and fondly kissed the old woman on the head.
“A watched pot never boils, dear Sansa.”
Sansa looked up and patted Krista’s hand. Krista’s eyebrows quirked up and a smile teased at the corners of her lips.
“Sansa?”
“Yes?”
“Your pot is boiling.”
“Oh, you rascal you! You’ve done it again. Now, off with you to town to get the tincture fluid.”
Krista moved off towards the town with a laugh, getting a weak pat on the bottom for her impudence as she slipped past. Krista’s good mood departed as soon as she had lost sight of Sansa.
Soon, the thatched roofs of the village by the river appeared, with its cultivated firan cane fields spreading out and around it. Instead of going down the main street, she slipped down the back streets trying to keep a low profile. As far as she was aware, she made it to the general store without being noticed. She made her way to the front of the store on the main street by way of a side alley.
Mr. Lethergood looked up when he heard the door open and frowned when he saw who was there. It was the slave girl that Sansa the healer kept in her employ, as if she was a daughter and not a slave. And what a fine looking slave she was.
The curious scar that marred the one side of her face did not mar her beauty at all, but instead he had often thought that it gave her a rather exotic appeal. He had watched her change from a thin waif of a girl into the generously curvy young woman that she was now. He had thought about finding out for himself what lay beneath the tattered but respectable clothing she wore more than once, but something about her always stopped him from taking advantage of her. She had the most direct way of looking at him, like she could read his mind, which made him feel uneasy.
He got the distinct feeling that if he ever touched her, that somehow, someway she would find a way to get back at him. So he had made it a point to touch her with his eyes only and be content with that. She glided up to the front table where he stood. There was nothing slave like in the proud way she held her head up with her shoulders squared back.
“Can I help you?” Mr.Lethergood asked. Mutely the girl handed over a list and he took it from her and studied it. It was the same as usual, some sugar, bread, quite a bit of tincture fluid and some other items. He left the counter to start filling the order, making sure to eye up the girl’s emerging womanly figure as he did so.
Krista stood as still as a stone at the counter as she looked out the window into the street beyond. She could feel Mr. Leathergood’s lustful gaze upon her like an old stained cloak that needed to be washed and beaten dry in the sun or preferably, in his case, just thrown into the fire.
One hand tightly gripped the small paring knife that she held, tucked in the folds of her dress. She was careful to keep it out of view of the shop owner. She was ready, as she always was, for the worst to come out in humanity, men especially.
Mr. Lethergood finished packing the items together and told her the price. She counted out the coins, inwardly proud of herself for the ability to figure and count money, but she let nothing of it show on her face, which remained fixed in a look of cold serenity. She gathered the box up and left the store, feeling his unwanted gaze on her swaying hips as she exited the building.
The fresh air felt like a revitalizing cool bath after a day of working in the mud as she stepped outside. She swiftly made for the side alley. After she was in the alley, she stopped and quickly stuffed the biggest bottles of the tincture fluid down her shirt where the bulk of the bottles were hidden by the woolen coat she wore and the curves of her emerging figure. Making her way to the back alley she hurried down it. She heard a snap behind her and swung to face the sound of the noise. Too late! What she had been hoping to avoid had happened yet again. A group of neighborhood kids had formed. Although they came from poor families they were not of slave lineage. People raised near the bottom of society often take pleasure in lording over someone of lesser importance than even they are, such as a slave. They closed in around her. There were five of them, all boys.
“Give us the box, slave, and we won’t make it too hard on you,” one said self-confidently.
Krista shook her head in defiance and waited for the inevitable. The boys came at her from all sides. She took the brunt of the hits even though she was older and bigger than the boys, but she was dealing out some damage too. One of the boys picked up a piece of wood and wacked her across the back of the head hard, making her briefly see stars. She fell to her knees, half screaming from the pain of her throbbing head. The boys quickly closed in and started to kick at her.
Krista’s hand found the knife tucked in her dress and without remorse she drove it through the calf of a leg extended out in the process of hitting her. The boy screamed like a stuck pig and hobbled down the alley, screaming for help. Krista got back up to her feet holding the knife out, waiting for the next challenger, but the boys had enough.
“Quick, grab her stuff and let’s get out of here before she sticks another one of us! You’re going to pay for that slave!” yelled one boy.
She took a menacing step in his direction. Grabbing her stuff, he and his buddies took off down the street at a run. After they were out of sight she reached to feel her shirt and see if the glass bottles were still intact. They were. She breathed a sigh of relief. She always bought extra stuff that they didn’t need so that the street boys would think that they had gotten the best of her, when they stole or destroyed her boxed goods.
She made her way out of the village without any further problems. She neared the little cottage in the woods to find Sansa still sitting by the fire. She tried to straighten her gait and not show the bad limp she had gotten from the fight. She brushed the blood away from her split lip and turned her head to the side, letting her curly hair fall forward to block off view of the injury from Sansa.
“Here you go Sansa,” Krista said, setting the bottles of tincture fluid down beside her.
“I’m kind of tired. I think I’m going to go lay down for a while. You can go ahead and start the cough medicine without me.”
She turned toward the cottage, but Sansa’s sudden grip on her arm stopped her. The grip on her arm pulled her back around and an aged finger lifted her chin up and brushed her red curls off to the side.
“Oh dear child, not again! Look at what those hooligans have done to you! That’s it! I’m going to town and having a talk with those boys’ parents and…!”
“Sansa!”
Somewhat shocked at Krista’s angry tone of voice, Sansa stopped in mid sentence.
“Sansa, that wou
ld do no good and besides I’m a slave in their eyes! This is how slaves are treated! Things are never going to change!”
Krista gently pulled out of Sansa’s grasp and limped over towards a small brook that ran past the cottage. She sat down on the cool grass and stretched out her sore leg as big tears welled up in her eyes. She brushed them away before they could slide down her cheeks. She never cried, for what good were tears anyway? They had never changed anything for her.
She hadn’t noticed Sansa’s approach until she sat down on a stump beside her, “Come here child.”
With little protest Krista let Sansa pull her head over onto her lap. With her fingers, Sansa started to brush the tangles out of her curly hair as she had done for many years. Sansa had been more of a mother to her than her own mother had been.
“Krista?”
Krista looked up and met Sansa’s gaze.
“One day things are going to change for you, for the better darling, of this I am certain.”
“How do you know that? Has your God been talking with you again?”
Sansa didn’t let Krista’s caustic attitude affect her, but replied kindly, “Actually, I was talking with Him the other day and He left me with the distinct feeling that after I’m gone you’ll be taken care of and that you will know happiness as you have never known it before in life.”
“And when is this happiness going to happen?” Krista asked mockingly.
“In the Creator’s good timing you’ll see it come to pass my dear. I know you’ve never fully shared my belief in the God of Heaven Krista, but don’t doubt me when I tell you that He’s not only real, but that He always keeps His word. This revelation of your future after I’m gone has given me peace.”
“I only believe in what I can see, Sansa. After you’re gone happiness will be a long dark hallway with a light at the far end of it that I’ll never reach before it’s extinguished. Promise me you won’t leave me Sansa! You’re the best thing that has ever happened in my life!”
“Krista, my time is drawing near and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. But if you trust me at all, know that what I’ve told you is the truth and that it will come to pass. Hold on to what I’ve told you when times grow dark in your life and have faith that what I have told you will come to pass.”
Krista laid her head back down hoping that Sansa’s words would come true, but all she felt was a growing sense of dread for what the future would bring.
A Warrior's Redemption Page 26
