The Girl in the Glass Box

by Andi Adams

  Plump fingers nudged her arm and jostled Genevieve from her agitated slumber. She forced one eye open, squinting through her lashes against the hint of morning light.

  "We must leave for work now," Sib whispered, as if he hadn't already awoken her. "But feel free to make yourself comfortable in our absence."

  Genevieve shot up to a seated position. "Wait, you're leaving me? But… can't I come with you?"

  Grog snorted. "No, you can't come with us. You nearly poisoned us to death. Who knows what you'd do if you were to be let loose in the woods. My guess is you'd try to help in some useless fashion, wander too far, and you'd end up being eaten by a bear. Hmm… on second thought…"

  "Grog!" Sib scolded.

  She couldn't tell if Grog was more amused at his rather unfunny joke or more at the ridiculous idea of her accompanying them for the day. Genevieve's shoulders sank.

  Sib patted her arm. "Don't let him get to you, he's just a bit grumpy is all. I'd say he's not much of a morning person, but to be honest, he's not much of an anytime person really. He…he just takes some gettin' used ’ta."

  "What is it that you men do all day?" Genevieve asked. "I mean, where exactly are you going?"

  "We were each trained in a different trade and usually we spend the day gathering supplies to continue our work. We used to live in Heiglet, but were cast out, a story for another day. Anyway, we picked up, crossed kingdom lines, and settled here. We pretty much make do with the supplies we find in the forest. Lucky for you and your bout of desiccation, I am an apothecary and Tyne is a skilled botanist, as you may remember. Grog is a piscator, and is good about catching us some fish for dinner. Eron is a skilled waldglas maker – he makes glassware and other items from wood ash and sand. Pretty handy and quite a rare trade. And Flic was too young when we lived in Heiglet to serve as an apprentice, so he helps whoever needs a hand for the day. We usually gather the supplies we need and explore new areas of the forest for materials. Most days we return before sundown."

  As Sib turned to leave, Genevieve asked, "Well, what can I do? Around here, I mean? I am grateful for your hospitality and I… I feel like I should pull my weight if I'm going to stay."

  "Well, all right. But for the record, you don't need to. You're welcome here without having to work. But if you feel like you want to help, what skills do you have?"

  Genevieve thought for a moment, and when she turned up nothing, she frowned. "I… I'm an excellent pianist, and I'm fair at needlepoint."

  "Useful skills," said Grog.

  "Umm, then… I suppose, I don't have any."

  Grog rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we could have guessed as much."

  Genevieve looked at Sib with tears threatening to spill down her face.

  Sib surveyed the room and perked his finger into the air. "We have been meaning to wash a heap of clothes we have set over in that corner there." Sib pointed to a pile of garments that stood almost as tall as him. "You can take them to the river and wash them there. It's a bit of a distance back behind the house, so only do it if you feel up to the task. There's some lye in the kitchen. You don't need much so only take a bit or it might be too much to carry. All you have to do is toss them into the river, rub'em down with lye, and rinse 'em out. Very easy. You can do that, right?"

  Genevieve sniffed and nodded her head.

  "Right then, we must be off. If you are unsure of what to do or would rather wait for our return, that'd be fine. We have a few books you could read in the meantime to keep yourself occupied." Sib gestured to a stack of books that rested on a small table by the window.

  "Don't let her off so easy," Grog said. "I think she's right. She could pull her weight around here a bit. We just need to stick to giving her ridiculously simple jobs, like the laundry. I mean, it's laundry for God's sakes! What could she possibly do? Drown it? Make them more dirty than they already are? I mean, how incapable can you be?" He snorted again when he laughed. Sib offered a sympathetic smile, nudged Grog forward, and then turned to make his way out the door.

  Genevieve rolled back onto her other side and pulled the thick cover over her, tucking it under her feet. The rough material of the overthrow reminded her of the hay in Belle's stall. She nuzzled in closer and took in a deep breath, hoping to smell the must of horsehair, but instead was met by a stale odor of wool and the caustic scent of lye. She yawned and decided to try to sleep a bit more before she ventured outside to try her hand at laundry.

  Even as her eyes drifted shut, her skin pricked at the echo of a cawing raven.

  The brothers followed the familiar gravel pathway, which paralleled the course of the river, until the waterway diverged away from their trail. It had been a tiring day. They were coated in dirt and were eager to get home to rest. Sib, though exhausted, always enjoyed the walk home. He listened to the chant of the tarin des aulnes that filled the forest with melodic song.

  "Hey, Sib, what's that ahead over there?" Tyne said, pointing to a deep blue mass in the distance. The object rested on the ground, unmoving.

  Sib pulled his spectacles off his face, wiped them on his tunic, and placed them back upon his nose. He squinted toward the object, and his feet naturally picked up speed. "I…dunno. Can't be sure."

  "And what about that there?" Tyne pointed to another mass, this time red in color and only a few feet away from the blue one. As they approached closer, a mess of colors came into view and littered the banks of the stream. Articles tossed to and fro lay sodden upon the river rocks.

  "Are… are those our clothes?" Eron asked, as he waddled up from behind.

  "Oh no…" Sib muttered.

  Grog caught up to the group with a labored shamble and immediately turned the color of the crimson misplaced tunic in front of him. "You have got to be kidding me."

  Sib shrugged and gave a little chuckle. "At least we know they're clean."

  "They were clean. Now they are full of caked on dirt. You know they're gonna have to be washed again." Grog limped from a red tunic to a pair of corded breeches, grunting as he bent to pick them up. "The damned fool can't follow the simplest of instructions. I mean, who hasn't washed clothes before? And a woman no less. Good lord…” He continued to mutter to himself, damning her and cursing this and that.

  "Calm yourself, Grog," Eron said. "No one got hurt and at least she tried. Who knows why she's never done this stuff before? Seems like she could use the practice though." He slapped Grog upon his back jovially as he too started picking up the clothing from around the bank and carried the load in his arms.

  "I know why she's never done this stuff before, I tell ya," Grog said. "It's cause she's spoiled is all. She's a spoiled little princess who never had to work a day in her life, and you better not expect I'm gonna be pickin' up the slack. I ain't gonna be cleanin' up her messes. I got enough messes of my own." Grog picked up the last article of clothing and fought to balance it in his arms.

  Tyne came up beside him and took a few pieces from his pile and added to his own so Grog wouldn't have to struggle through the rest of his walk. Sib watched his brothers, thankful for Tyne's gesture, hoping it would lessen the amount of Grog's complaining they all knew was inevitable.

  Once the clothes were collected, they headed back in the direction of home, their arms weighted with the heaviness of the wet laundry, and tried to ignore the incessant ramblings of their very disgruntled brother.

  Genevieve strode across the length of the kitchen, which she cleared in three steps, and then turned around to pace again. She was utterly bewildered, racking her brain for some kind of explanation, but she was at a complete loss. As soon as she heard the men approach, she straightened her makeshift dress, which itched like burlap against her skin, and planted herself in the threshold of the doorway.

  The door swung open, and Genevieve wasted no time launching into her well-rehearsed speech. "Please forgive me, I am so sorry. But… someone has stolen your clothing. I tried to do the laundry like you asked. I washed it, wrung it out, and set it on the shore to
dry, but when I returned everything was gone. I… I…." The five brothers stood in the kitchen and listened to her exasperated story. When she finished her rant, she eyed the clothing in their arms and allowed her mouth to drop open in shock.

  "Wait, what? How? Where did you find them?"

  "Downstream, you halfwit!" Grog said. "Don't you know anything about rivers? Low tide and high tide? You musta washed the clothes at low tide, and then high tide rolled in and carried our clothes away. Sheesh. Why don't you know these things? Where do you come from, another planet?" He threw the wet clothes in a heap by the fire and stalked off in the direction of the bedroom, leaving no time for her to explain or apologize.

  "I…I… I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I never…” Genevieve flopped onto a stool by the kitchen table and let the tears that stung in her eyes fall down her cheeks. She didn't want to cry, but frustration radiated through her body and released itself in an outpouring of sobs.

  As the brothers set the clothes around the house to dry, Sib pulled up a stool next to her. "Please don't cry. We appreciate you trying. Maybe it'll just take practice, is all." Sib patted her shoulder with his little chubby hand.

  Genevieve swiped at her tears and looked into his kind blue eyes.

  "I can't seem to do anything right. I never realized I was so… helpless." She sniffed and dabbed at her nose with the sleeve of her dress. "I want to learn. I want to try. But I don't want to make you mad or destroy anything else. I seem to just keep making a mess of things."

  "That's for damn sure," Grog yelled from the other room. "And stop your crying. Babies cry, not grown women!" Grog's voice grew louder as he limped in from the bedroom. "You're what? Eighteen or thereabouts? Old enough to not be crying over this." He stalked over to where she sat at the table, and looked her straight in the eye. "Listen here. I fought my brothers about bringing you here. I knew it was a mistake. And I seem to have been right so far. You want to learn simple domestic tasks? You want to stop making a mess around here? Then do it. We ain't gonna do it for you. So learn and learn quick, or else you can find somewhere else to stay."

  Before Genevieve could respond, Sib stood from his seat and glared at Grog with a hard intensity. "Grog, I have had enough of your sour attitude. Snow will be staying with us for as long as she likes, and you will get used to it. You are not permitted to speak to her in such a fashion. She is a lady, and you are a gentleman, even though you tend to forget that most days. You were raised better than that, and I will not tolerate such disrespect in this house. You want her to learn? Then teach her. You want her to not make a mess? Then show her how to do things properly."

  Sib turned to face the living room, where the rest of the brothers sat. "That goes for all of you. We have a responsibility to help those who need it, and this young girl, by fate or happenstance, has come into our lives and needs our help. Now, I don't want to hear another thing about it. Tyne, perhaps you could show Snow how to prepare something for supper."

  Grog huffed and shook his head. He clunked his way back to the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

  "He'll come around, you'll see," said Sib.

  Tyne worked his way from his place on the couch to the kitchen, where he pulled pots onto the counter and ingredients from the cupboard. He offered Genevieve a genuine smile and gestured with a nod of his head for her to join him in the kitchen. Sib lightly patted the back of her hand, and without another word, left her to her very first lesson.

  18

  After several days of travel and, growing weary at her lack of progress, Agrippine followed the trail, having little confirmation as to whether or not she was even on the right path. She drew the feather from her pocket and sniffed it, then put it away. She smelled the air like a bloodhound and continued in the direction she was already going.

  Trusting her instincts and the spell, she pressed on, stopping periodically to rest, especially when she encountered a natural water source. She would give the horse a brief respite, allowing him to drink only after she had quenched her own thirst. She continued in desperate anticipation of finding some sign of Genevieve's presence, but her hope waned daily as each night the sun fell in the sky.

  The day drew on as the beams of light sneaked through the trees' thick boughs. Thankful for the dense foliage, she wiped her brow, imagining that if it weren't for the shade, she would be melting even more than she already was.

  After what seemed like a thousand hours of bleak searching, Agrippine noticed a spot of blackened liquid speckled on the trail. It came in drips at first, but, as she continued on, the viscous liquid grew more ample in its quantity. Pools of dried blood contrasted starkly against the neutral tone of the beaten path. That was when she caught sight of the gutted deer carcass lying stiff on the blood- soaked Earth. The buck's bristled fur was marked with graying patches. His four-point antler showed his size and age. She shook with rage as the realization of her circumstance came into clear view.

  A deer heart. Damn you, Marcel!

  But soon, her anger gave way to elation. She finally gained confirmation she was on the right track.

  She jolted her heels into the sides of the stallion and galloped in the direction of her soon-to-be regained power.

  A faint drone echoed through the evening sky, and Agrippine's mind sizzled with a mixture of excitement and panic. As she drew closer to the noise, she recognized it as… cheerful whistling? Many whistles, one sound. How was this possible?

  Who on Earth travels around whistling? A group of ruffians? Troubadours? Oh God, please don't let it be troubadours. The bumbling idiots with their music and tomfoolery. They're even worse than that damned jester who flits around the castle and that lute player who plays off key.

  Agrippine pulled on the horse's reins, slowing him to a walk so she wouldn't any draw any attention. She tried to hide behind tree trunks and brush and maintained a significant distance from the increasing volume of the melodious din. She peered out from the foliage to see who approached.

  Four dwarves? And one more trailing behind with a limp? Even to an old woman, how threatening can they be?

  She nudged the horse forward, and when she was close enough for them to hear, she feigned extreme exhaustion as she spoke. "Messieurs, could I borrow a moment of your time? I could use some assistance and am afraid that you have been my only glimmer of hope since I have encountered not one other soul during my very long journey." She put the back of her hand to her forehead and fanned her face with the other, allowing the reigns to fall and drape around the horse's neck.

  The men gaped at her in silence. The fat one's mouth was slack-jawed, while the tiny goofy-looking one hid behind him.

  What is wrong with them? Are they mute? Are they dumb? She sighed. It would be my luck to run into the only five people in the kingdom that do not understand what I'm saying.

  Just when she was about to give up hope, the plump red-head spoke up. "You must excuse us, Madame. It’s just that we never see travelers out this deep in the forest. You must have lost your way because I am certain you did not come this far intentionally. Don't you know what is out here in these woods? It's dangerous, especially to travel alone. Come to think of it, I once traveled out in the woods alone, and I swore I'd never do it again."

  Stop talking. I don't have time to listen to your drivel.

  "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you my travels are intentional, even full-well knowing the potential dangers. I would never have come this far and risked my own life if it weren't for something desperately important. I'm hoping you can help me."

  "Bien sûr, Madame," said the one who seemed to be the ringleader of the motley troupe. "In what way can we be of assistance? We have little on us to offer you, but we will help in any way we can." He stood a little over four feet in height and a hoary beard and bushy eyebrows framed his jolly face. Even though he was trying to be helpful, his bright disposition vexed her to the core. She forced a weary smile.

  "I have been traveling for days in searc
h of my granddaughter who is the very light of my life. She has not been well mentally, and I have been her sole caregiver. I'm afraid she was wandering around our home, admiring the natural beauty of the spring's ever-changing foliage, and strayed too far, losing her way. I haven't seen her in weeks and am so desperate to find her." At this, Agrippine wept softly. She covered her eyes, shielding the men from seeing the effort she took in fabricating tears. Her face wrinkled up, even more than usual, and she winced in overt grief, her shoulders shaking to show the exertion.

  The ringleader continued, ”Oh, Madame, we are sorry to hear such a heartbreaking story. Could you perhaps describe your granddaughter? As we mentioned, we don't get many travelers around here, but maybe some physical details may spark our memory."

  "Certainly, dear sirs. But I must assure you if you had seen her, you would've known, for she is the most beautiful girl you could ever encounter. With skin as white as cotton blossoms, as pure as an untouched bed of snow, hair the inky black of a sleek raven as the moon alights its back, and lips as red as cerises. There is no way she would have passed by your sight without your knowing."

  The brothers glanced around at one another, exchanging confirmation.

  "Madame, a few weeks back we found a young girl who fits that very description sickened by lack of water and nearly dead. We took her back with us to our cottage to mend her back to health, and it is there that she now resides with us, since she never indicated she otherwise had a family to which she could return."