Preta waves. “Hey, Dee.”
Ms. Fallow extends her arm with a feminine wrist tilt. “My Deets.”
Deet caresses Ms. Fallow’s hand. “Lurrus, my love.” He hugs her in a tight embrace. He lifts her up with a spin and kisses her lips.
Preta swats the air. “Come on now, you two.”
Deet laughs, setting Lurrus back onto her feet. He gives her a kiss on the forehead and turns to Preta. “So how was school today?”
Preta glances at the ground and digs her toe deep into the dirt. “It was interesting, but nothing special.”
“Good.” Deet turns away and kisses Lurrus’s cheek. He smiles. “Let’s eat.”
They sit on a grass patch between a large maple tree and Grandpa propped on his stool.
Deet passes around dried meat, bread, and olive oil.
Grandpa holds out his arthritic hand and tries to make a fist. “Damned hands, getting old’s a bitch.”
Preta gives Grandpa a warm smile and pulls a copper cup out of her pack. She pours water from a large glass jug. “So, Dee, how’s the foundation coming?”
Deet stares at the cottage and nods. “It’s getting there. We should be done before the first snow.”
Yaz joins them and plops down on the grass. He lies on his back with legs and arms splayed. “You guys are killing me with all this labor. My butt’s a hot sweaty mess,” and he wiggles his backside on the ground.
Preta shivers at the thought. “Too much information, Yaz.”
Grandpa snorts. “Ha, right, just you wait a couple of years and you’ll see what really being tired is all about.”
Yaz sits up and points at the water jug sitting next to Preta. “Pass me that and the bread too.” He raises the jug and slurps the water as if a dog from a puddle.
Everyone stops eating and stares at him.
Yaz lowers the jug from his lips, and water dribbles out of his mouth. “What you all looking at?” he says with a shrug.
Preta raises her arm as she bites into a hunk of bread.
“What’s that?” Deet says, pointing at Preta’s knuckles.
“Umm—what’s what?”
“The blood on your hand and shirt. What happened?”
Preta peeks at her hand. “Oh, I…” She looks to Lurrus to save her. “I…”
Lurrus brushes her hand on Deet’s thigh. “A boy in class gave Preta a hard time, and she corrected him.”
Suspicious, Deet squints. “Hard time? What did he give you a hard time about?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Preta says, glancing away and trying to avoid Deet’s inquisition. “Just about the other day, it was no big deal.”
Yaz coughs, spitting out water. “Ha, you beat his ass, Sis. So you used a few moves I taught you, right?”
Grandpa pinches a bloodstain on Preta’s shirt. “Looks like quite a correction. Guess you gave better than you got from the looks of it.”
Yaz extends his arms, flexing his muscles. “Penters always do.”
Preta chuckles, though in a halfhearted manner.
Deet sidearms a soiled cloth at Yaz while still staring at Preta. “What do you mean the other day?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.”
“Preta Penter, answer me.”
“Oh fine, about the boy in the woods dying.”
“And how would a boy in your class know about that?” Deet glares at Yaz.
“Huh? What—” Yaz says, chewing with a full mouth. He opens his arms. “What?”
Deet frowns. “Who’d you tell?”
Yaz takes an exaggerated gulp. “Me—tell? I didn’t, well… Maybe just Dix, but he doesn’t count. That’s it, I swear—I think…”
The wrinkles in Grandpa’s face tighten, and he jabs his knife in the ground. “You told that idiot loud mouth? You might as well have gathered the whole damned town and shouted it out for all to hear.”
Deet’s eyes bear down on Yaz, and he doesn’t say a word. He just stares through Yaz with a slow head shake. Deet breaks contact with his younger brother and shifts his focus to Preta. “Don’t let anyone get to you.”
“Next time anyone bothers you,” Yaz says, “I’ll be the one to correct them.”
Grandpa points his toothpick at Yaz’s face. “She can give out her own damned corrections just fine, and if you would’ve kept your big mouth shut, she wouldn’t have to correct anyone.”
Preta gently touches Grandpa’s arm. “Don’t worry about it; it’s okay. It was bound to come out sometime anyway.”
“Yeah, see,” Yaz says, “that’s what I’m saying. It was going to come out anyway.”
Deet looks away in disgust. “You just don’t know when to keep your yap shut, do you.”
Confused, Yaz scratches his ear. “Of course, sure I know when to keep my—”
Grandpa whips a piece of ham, hitting Yaz on his cheek. “That means shut up, dung for brains.”
Yaz plucks off the pork from his face, throws his head back, and drops it into his mouth and mumbles, “Whatever.”
An awkward silence befalls them.
After a few minutes, Preta finishes eating and stands. “I’m going to the privy.”
Grandpa and Yaz snore sound asleep, and Deet and Lurrus whisper and giggle at each other between kisses.
“Be safe,” Deet says.
Preta stretches her arms above her head. “I will,” and she heads to the public privies.
Reaching for a privy door, Agna appears behind Preta. “How are you feeling today, Preta?”
“Agna Roe?” Preta says, looking at the old woman, trying to remember the last time she saw her.
Agna gives Preta kind eyes. “You seem much better today. It’s good to see.”
“So I guess you heard about the boy, too,” Preta says looking down at her boots. “Seems like everyone knows.”
“It’s hard to keep something like that a secret. But I was in the field with your brothers when the light struck you. They didn’t tell you?”
Preta’s eyes narrow, unsure of what to think. “You were there that night? No, they didn’t mention it. You know what, they haven’t told me much about that night.”
“Well, I was there, I promise you, and I saw a light shoot out of the forest. You didn’t ask your brothers about any of it?”
Preta tries to smile, and then she sighs. “Honestly, I just want to forget the whole thing ever happened.”
“I understand how you feel, my dear, though it’s important you don’t forget for your own sake. Do you notice anything different with your body? Anything strange?”
Images of the light and a horse talking to her flash through her mind. Preta’s body sways, remembering what it felt like as the energy pulsated in her chest. Oh no, nothing strange, just a talking horse is all, you know, the normal thing that happens to any sane thirteen-year-old girl. She glances away. “What kind of strange things are you referring too?”
“Nothing to be alarmed about, my dear. It’s just, I heard stories, tales really, about a light entering a person and they change. And soon after, they’re able to do things many find hard to believe.”
Oh like talking to a horse? Nothing to be alarmed about, Preta, it either really happened or I’m going crazy. “So how do these people change?” Preta says, focusing on Agna’s lips, hanging on every word.
“It’s no coincidence the boy was murdered and then the light hit you. Best be cautious of strangers, Preta Penter. Keep your loved ones close. Remember, if strange things happen inside your mind and body and you’re unsure, be brave, and keep an open mind.”
Preta scrapes her boot on the ground as she builds up the nerve to tell her about Redly. “I think a horse might have talked to me.”
Intrigued, Agna tilts her head to the side. “Really? What happened? Tell me?”
Preta goes on telling her about Redly, the connection, the pulsating energy, and Mr. Felsten seeing her.
“How did he react when he saw you?”
“He was scared and didn’t
want me anywhere near him. Though it could’ve been he was just in a hurry to get to Bielston.”
“Bielston, you say?” Agna’s eyes narrow.
“Yes, he was taking a load of goods to the capital.”
“Be very careful, my dear. People don’t act kindly to tales like yours, and big mouths may bring big danger.”
“But it only happened once. When I tried it again, nothing happened.”
Agna forces a smile, and she gives Preta a shallow nod. “If you did it once, you can probably do it again. And if the wrong person sees…” She lowers her head and sighs. “Please be careful and keep your family close. If you ever need help, anything at all, you know where to find me, right?”
“Yeah, I think I remember, Agna. Thanks again; I will.”
Agna gently touches Preta’s shoulder and gives her a tender smile then hobbles away down the road.
Great, the good news just keeps on coming. Preta takes a deep breath and leans her back against the privy door as she watches Agna disappear over the hill leading out of town.
THE CRAZY RED EYE
Preta drags a stick behind her as she dwells on Agna’s story.
“Where in the blazes have you been?” Yaz says, throwing a wooden crate into the back of the cart. “It’s been hours since you left.”
“I was just walking along the rocks by the docks and thinking,” Preta says with a shrug.
“We thought you might have fallen in the crapper.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, I just lost track of time.”
“Good, because no way was I climbing into a poo hole for you—even if Gramps did throw a hissy fit.”
Preta chuckles. “I’m glad I saved you, now you owe me one big time.”
Yaz’s eyes widen. “Me owe you? You know I shot the woman in the woods and saved your life the other day. That’s got to count for something.”
Preta growls inside. “You were the one that shot the woman?” She furrows her brow. “What else haven’t you two told me?”
Deet shifts a crate in his hands. “Told you about what?”
Preta crosses her arms. “About the other night. Yaz was just saying—”
Deet shoots Yaz a dirty look.
Yaz opens his arms in protest. “Now wait just a minute. I thought she knew.”
Preta glares at Deet. “What else didn’t you think I needed to know? Spit it out.”
“When we get back to the house, we’ll talk. But right now, take these coins, and get Nala’s ingredients for the soup and whatever else we might need to get through the week. Yaz and I will meet you outside the market square in thirty minutes.”
Preta curls her lips, frustrated, and sternly points at her brothers. “Both of you better tell me everything when we get home later.”
“We’ll see,” Deet says. “Just hurry along.”
Preta snorts and grabs a burlap sack from the cart and drops the coppers and two silver nibs into her pocket. She heads to the market, feeling betrayed by her brothers. They must think she’s just a little girl and can’t handle the truth. How could they not tell her? She deserves to know what really happened that night. After all, it was her that the light hit, and her who saw the boy die, and her who the woman attacked. They should’ve told her. Preta’s temper continues rising with every passing second as she dwells on their deception. Her body twitches and she swallows funny as rotten fish snaps her out of her rage. Preta glances at a moldy wooden bin filled with day old fish withering in the sun as the flies swarm on the scales and flesh. A fly lands on Preta’s nose. Yuck, get off, and she cringes and swats the bug away as she enters Fishmongers Lane and passes the venders.
Halona sits on a three-legged wooden stool with one hand propped up on each knee, legs spread wide. Her tattered blue dress hangs over her feet with the ends resting in a puddle of mud. Halona gazes off into the distance with a cold, empty stare. Her leathery, smashed face full of wrinkles, which resembles a prune, makes Preta wonder what she’ll look like at seventy.
Halona snorts. “What do you want, girl?”
“Nothing today,” Preta says, “thanks anyway.”
At the next cart, Blet snarls at Preta. He squints his right eye and removes his pipe and puffs out yellowish-brown smoke, exposing his purplish-black teeth. Blisters cover his chapped lips, and they quiver as he spits brown liquid toward Preta’s boots.
“Charming, Blet. You must impress all the ladies. I know what Halona thinks of your high class.”
Blet spits again. “Shut up, Penter, what do you know about anything.”
Preta chuckles and leaves the fishmongers behind and she enters the main town square and the market.
The market is alive with chaotic chatter and commerce.
Preta scans the carts and shops, mumbling off her list, “Cloth, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, barley, oats, flour, and salt.” She eyes the textile cart next to the blacksmiths and dye makers.
Preta points to white cloth hanging in the back of the caravan. “I need a roll of plain basic white, please.”
“Size?” the frail woman quickly says as she glances at the cloth racks.
“Cut of ten.”
The woman holds out her boney hand and wiggles her fingers. “That’ll be six coppers.”
Preta hands the woman the coins then heads to the first spice cart she sees and buys a bag of salt.
Kilsa stands behind a produce cart and waves with a floppy hand toward Preta. “Hey, you.”
Preta waves back. “Hey, Kilsa. So you’re helping out your mother today?”
Kilsa lowers her head. “I wanna go, but—”
Kilsa’s mother, a round woman with a jolly face and red cheeks to match her red hair, steps in front of her and grabs two red apples. “But she’s got to help her mom.”
Preta smiles. “Hey, Mrs. B.”
Mrs. B winks at Preta. “So, the word on the street is that you give a mean right and left hook.”
“Well, my brother tells me I’m as good with my left as I am with my right,” Preta says with a shrug. “But you can ask Clist next time you see him. He’d know better than me.”
Mrs. B smiles. “I’ll be sure to do that the next time he comes by.”
Preta and Kilsa exchange smirks, and another customer steps up, occupying Mrs. B.
Preta lays her burlap sack on the counter. “I need two cabbages, ten carrots, fifteen potatoes, a small sack of barley, large sack of flour, and a large sack of oats.”
“No problem, one sec,” Kilsa says.
Yaz steps up behind Preta and gives her a big slap on her butt, making her jump. “You almost ready?”
Preta trips forward and braces her hands on the produce cart. “Dang it, Yaz. What the heck’s wrong with you?”
“Did you like that?” Yaz chuckles in short spurts.
Preta ignores him and shakes her head in annoyance. “Kilsa is filling up the sack now. Ouch, that hurt.”
Kilsa giggles and blushes. “Oh, hello, Yaz.”
Yaz puckers his lips and flicks his head at her. “What up, Kilsa?”
Kilsa, smiling at him, stands in a daze with a slight head tilt.
Preta snaps her fingers in front of Kilsa’s face. “Umm—hello.”
Kilsa refocuses on Preta. “Right—sorry—that will be two silver nibs and a copper.”
“Dang.” Preta hands her the coins, and Yaz grabs the burlap sack.
Yaz winks at Kilsa then spins to Preta. “Let’s go, Sis.”
Preta snorts, watching Kilsa ogle her brother, and then she turns away and waves goodbye. “Thanks, have a good one.”
“Huh—” Kilsa says, watching Yaz strut away and nod to every girl he passes.
“You know you two are perfect for each other,” Preta says.
Kilsa beams. “Really? Yeah I think so too—perfect.”
Preta rolls her eyes. “Okay, enough weirdness for today. Gotta go. Have a good one.”
At the cart, Yaz throws the sack into the back.
Grandpa, r
eclined in the backseat, snores sound asleep.
Lurrus gives Deet a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my Deets.”
Deet leans over the cart, beaming with a drunken smile. He mouths hushed words into Lurrus’s ear, making her giggle.
Yaz climbs into the front seat and smacks the wooden bench with a crack. “Let’s go, my Deets.”
Deet, annoyed, punches Yaz in the arm.
Yaz chuckles, rocking his head, mocking his brother. “Umm—may I have another, my Deets?”
“Shut up.”
Grandpa twitches and snorts. “Wha-was-tha-you-say-dinner—”
Yaz glares at Grandpa. His head angled with a goofy tilt. “I said, may I have another, my Deets?” Yaz bursts into a deep belly laugh, gyrating the rickety wooden seat. He sucks in air between the hysterics then coughs as if he swallowed a bug.
“Damned fool.”
Preta giggles, then blocks out the arguing during the entire ride back as Yaz explains arrow versus musket theory and Grandpa corrects him on every point.
As the boys talk nonsense, Preta is free to disappear into the background. She gazes at the pines and fall trees and clouds, envisioning how she fits into the world and how she can be an artist in Iinia. Though her thoughts drift back to Agna’s warnings, and she dwells on her newfound light. A familiar bent grey fence post crosses her vision, marking the Penter property.
Roscoe sprints toward the cart, kicking up a dust cloud behind him. The dog runs so fast he skids on the loose dirt and gravel trying to stop. Roscoe recovers, nips the horse’s hoof, and jaunts next to the cart.
The horse lets out a snort and skips.
Roscoe weaves through the horse’s legs to the front and takes off in a sprint leading them home.
It’s dusk, and the cart stops next to the barn.
Yaz hops off the cart and unhitches Berta the horse.
Deet carries crates to the cottage.
Yaz chuckles. “It was a nice day, my Deets!”
Deet ignores him and disappears inside the house.
Grandpa points to the chicken coop. “Preta, fetch a big hen for the soup.”
Preta sighs and lowers her head. “Do I have to?”
Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) Page 6
