The Wild

"When you speak like that you threaten a girl's heart, Morr," I said, heart stuttering in my chest. 

"I don't mean to worry you," she rushed out, anxiety clouding her face. 

My fingers clasped around her wrist, pulling the both of us into an alley between two shops. No tarps had been strung to cover the gaps between buildings, leaving Morrigan and I to face the rain unprotected. 

A puddle soaked straight through my aged sabots as I pulled us further down the alley, away from ears that may listen. I could hear Morrigan's disgust as she stepped in the same puddle.

I used to be jealous of the favored homes and shops, but standing here now, I wasn't anymore. Theirs were made of brick and stone while ours were wood. Nothing but cold could be kept behind their walls of stone. 

"Claud," she finally said when I'd stopped halfway down. "It's your husband, William."

My back went rod straight, shoulders bunching together as I spun to face her. "What about my husband Morrigan?" 

She flinched, one foot taking a step away. Her mouth opened then shut, and opened again. 

"Spit it out," I urged her. 

Morrigan hesitated, dark eyes drifting down to the muddied cobble we stood on. "He and I," she started, then quickly rushed the rest out. "Ah- Lucille Truett are sleeping together." 

As soon as the words left her mouth she shrank away from me, flinching as though I had struck her. But I hadn't moved an inch. My muscles remained taught, ready to spring. 

"I know about Lucille," I said. And now I know about you. 

It took a long minute for me to relax. Cold air stung the inside of my nostrils as I drew in a deep breath, releasing it when my lungs began to complain. 

And that was all it took. I'd finalized that it didn't matter. 

"I forgive you." And I meant it. 

"Do you?" She whispered after another hesitation. Her eyes still wouldn't meet mine, looking as if she were ready to bolt. 

"I do, Morrigan. I've known and loved you for longer than I have William." I could see when my words resonated with her. Morrigan's brow lifted to peer at me once more. "I forgive you for sleeping with my husband Morrigan, but I will never forget how you betrayed our friendship." 

Her arms wrapped around herself as she straightened, holding herself together. "Thank you, Claudia. I couldn't go to Ascelin with it on my heart, I just didn't know how to say it." 

I wanted to ask when it had happened, but again I reminded myself, it didn't matter. 

"I'm pregnant, Morrigan." My eyes held hers as I spoke. Silence stretched between us as my words sunk in. 

"No," she said, echoing what I'd cried the night before. "You're serious?"

"Both wheat and barley sprouted," I confirmed. 

Her hand flew to her mouth, now leaning against the brick wall. Then, her eyes focused. "We must talk to Boone, Claud. There must be some way to get some kind of extension?" 

"I don't think so," I murmured. Ascelin's ruling was final, no priest or priestess would grant me an extension. 

"They have to make an exception!" Morrigan shouted, despaired on my behalf. "You're the last of your line," she pleaded with me. "You have to try. The child you carry is the life of your family name." 

"I know that Morrigan, but it's not going to happen." I looked away from her, not wanting to see her frustration. 

"You're not going to do anything?" She asked softly. 

"I didn't say that," I said, just as quietly as her. "Are you still my friend, Morrigan Barlowe?" 

"Of course I am," she said instantly. "Why would you ask?" 

I only needed to look at her. Her lips pursed, instantly understanding exactly why I would ask. 

"I'm going to run," I spoke lowly, only loud enough for her to hear over the bustling streets. "I'm not going to allow my line to end with me. My child will live. They'll have a life far away from Ascelin." 

"You can't!" She whispered her shout. "There is nothing besides Reddon, Claudia. Going out there will only be a slow and horrid death." 

"There must be something else," I said, hearing the cracking desperation in my own voice. "Reddon cannot be all there is."

"You're running?" A new voice said, startling both of us. 

Fiona Bassett stood at the end of the alley, chin held high with an incredulous gaze. 

"What are you doing here Fiona? I don't need to be escorted home," I snapped at her, anxiety spiking. I'd been caught speaking treason. 

"I wasn't here to escort you," she said with just as much attitude. "And for your information, you aren't exactly hidden. If you see two reds in an alley, you get curious."

Fiona's heeled sabots clicked on the wet cobble as she strode down to us, red cloak floating behind her, caught in wind. She walked with confidence now that she was away from the rest. 

Gloved fingers reached into the pockets of her petticoat, pulling that damn white ribbon from inside. She fastened it around her throat once more, then leveled her gaze with mine. "There is more than Reddon," she said. 

"Don't be fools," Morrigan hissed, but it was more pointed at Fiona than me. "There is nothing beyond the wild." 

Then, she angled herself to look past me and at Fiona. "I do not know you," Morrigan said with a pointed finger. "And you do not know Claudia. Do not fuel her delusions." 

Fiona's brows drew together in frustration. "I'm saying they're not delusions, Thin-blood," she all but snarled at my friend. 

Thin-blood. The favord's word for people like me. They believed our blood was watered down, that we had grown away from Ascelin. 

"You shouldn't be confident in matters you know nothing about," Fiona continued. "We get sent shipments of goods," she whispered to me. "There's a road, but I don't know where it leads." 

Morrigan seemed shell shocked; she couldn't believe what she was hearing. 

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. My suspicions were high. What could she gain from this?

"I'm coming with you," Fiona said confidently. 

"What?" Morrigan exclaimed. "Why?"

"We only need to follow close to the road," Fiona said, ignoring Morrigan. "It'll take us somewhere," she insisted. "Those goods don't come from the air." 

"Why would you want to come with me?" My voice came out hesitantly after a moment of silence. 

"I'm not supposed to be wearing red." 

A dozen more whys and whats came to my mind, but I knew we were running out of time. The sun would set soon, and Robert will have made his way to Ascelin's cave. 

Reds were not welcome in the heart of Reddon during this time. Tonight was a night of celebration for those who still had life to live. 

"Will you stay my friend, Morr?" I asked instead. "After I'm gone?" 

"Always Claud," she murmured behind a choked sob. Morrigan knew she couldn't stop me now. She knew that I had to go. "You don't have to," she still tried. "You can hide, I'll help you." 

"Hiding won't work, we both know that." 

Morrigan's lip trembled but she nodded and looked away from us and down the alley. "It's getting dark," she said. 

"Pack your things and be ready to leave," Fiona grabbed me by the elbow as she spoke into my ear. "I will come to you when I am ready. We leave in the night." 

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My tree wasn't burning anymore. 

The rain had finally beaten back the fire, but its mark had been made. Barely any of it remained. 

"I wish you wouldn't," Morrigan said beside me as we turned on the pathway. She'd asked to walk me home one final time. 

"I know, but I have to." I leaned into her as we walked. This woman had betrayed our friendship, but I couldn't find it in myself to be angry with her. 

She'd been by my side for as long as I could remember. At times, I'd believed she'd understood me like mama did, but I could never be sure. 

Was it really worth it to say goodbye to such a friendship, right at the end?

"I know," she echoed. 

We lingered just before my porch steps, staring at each other in the dark. "I've loved you, Morrigan." 

"And I've loved you, Claudia," she said. Tears pricked my eyes as she pulled me in for a tight hug. "I will still celebrate you," she whispered. 

"You could come with me," I offered in a small voice, knowing she wouldn't. 

A sad laugh left her lips, chin digging into my shoulder. "I wish I could, but I can't." 

I was the one to pull away, to end our embrace. Morrigan was shaking, fighting tears that spilled anyways. "I know," I said. "I'm sorry about what this will do to you." 

"It's okay," Morrigan's head dipped, staring down at the earth. "Not like I will have to keep the lie up for long. I wear red, Claud, I'll be okay." 

"Good luck." I offered her a weak smile, trying to mean it. 

"You're wishing me luck?" She laughed again and then wiped at her eyes, sniffling into her palms. "You've always been. . . something else, Claudia Thorne." 

My chest warmed at her words. It didn't matter if being different was bad, it felt like a badge on my breast. 

She reached for my hands, holding them between hers. Her grip was tight, but slick with the rain and her tears. "Find a better life for your child," she whispered. 

I held her gaze and gave a single nod. I would. There was no question about it, no other option. I would. 

Morrigan lingered for a heartbeat more, and then she was off, brisk steps disappearing into the dark. I felt glued to the ground watching my friend leave. 

It was the last time I'd ever see her, I knew it in my heart. 

I ascended the steps in two strides, now in a rush to prepare myself. I'd need warm clothes that weren't red, and food. 

Suddenly, I felt grateful for all the food the neighbors had brought, even Lucille's. Perhaps she did have some use for me. 

My home was free of any Sinclairs, thankfully. Though, I hesitated at the doorsteps, the hairs on my neck standing up. Someone had been in my home while I was gone. 

A chair had been taken out from the middle of my kitchen table, angled as though someone had sat there and watched the door. 

My fire had gone out, not even the embers sizzled. The door was still open behind me, inviting me to leave. 

Fear ran through me like a shock of lightning, starting my heart at a rapid pace. 

My feet slid silently out of my sabots, leaving them exactly where I stood. Thick wool socks helped me to move across the floor, rushing towards my firepit. 

I snatched the stoker, brandishing it before me like a weapon. The black steel was cool against my skin, battling my now hot and sweaty hands. 

As if it were on my side, my house didn't make a single noise as I swept through it, checking each room with the sharp end of the stoker. 

Each room revealed nothing. Nothing else had appeared to have been touched. 

My eyes snagged on my bedroom door at the end of the hallway. It was cracked open, but only slightly. I hadn't left it like that either. 

Gritting my teeth, I started down the hallway, barely seeing my way through the dark. My eyes had begun to adjust to the dark, allowing me to see just enough. 

My skin jolted at the sound of the stoker's point pressing into the wooden door to push it open. Hinges gave soft squeaks as the door slowly swung open, revealing. . . no one. 

I checked every inch of my room, but found nothing amiss. No one hiding in the corners or underneath my bed. 

It wasn't until I restarted the oil lamp on my nightstand that I saw what was wrong. 

Laid out on the edge of my bed was my red cloak that I hadn't worn today. They'd taken great care while setting it there, clearly having smoothed out any wrinkles. 

My heart gave a single heavy thump in my chest as I stared at it. 

"Why?" I said aloud, shocking myself. 

I couldn't focus on it. I had no time to sit and panic, I needed to pack. 

I left my bedroom, taking the lamp in my other hand to guide my way as I did another thorough check of my home. Nothing else had been touched, it seemed. 

Whoever it was had long since left. This home had a simple layout, and didn't have many places to hide someone. I'd checked every place possible. 

I was alone, unless they were a spirit. 

My movements were quick as I pulled an empty burlap sack from the pantry, shoving as much food as I could inside. Drawers and cabinet doors were left open in my wake. 

I took no care in placing the food, it could get squashed for all it mattered. The sack was small enough to be tied around my waist and hidden within my petticoat. If I wore my cloak, it wouldn't be seen at all. 

Unease still coursed through my veins as I hurried back down the hallway, half looking over my shoulder as I went. In my fear, my bedroom door slammed behind me when I closed it. 

I frantically searched my room for something to push underneath the doorknob, settling on the stoker I held in my hand. It was difficult to fit, its sharp end having to stab into the wooden floor. 

It didn't feel like it was enough, but the metal handle seemed to perfectly hold the knob in place. It would, at the very least, alert me if someone opened the door. 

Cold air kissed my skin as I pulled off my layers of red, tossing them atop the cloak laid on my bed. I would never wear red again, I promised myself. 

Most of my clothes had been burned once I'd donned red, but enough remained. I grabbed everything I could, pulling on a grayed petticoat with an almost black cotte over it. William's black cloak fit loosely around me, hiding much of my shape. 

I knew I looked a little ridiculous with my petticoat sticking several inches out from under the cotte. But living on the edge of the trees taught me that warmth mattered more than appearance. 

I layered my socks as well, white thigh-length cotton underneath calf-length black wool. 

The burlap sack had deflated where I'd tossed it on my bed, scratchy fabric folding over itself where it wasn't full of food. I stared at it for a moment before seating myself next to it in the middle of the bed. 

My heart still panicked against my ribs, mind racing through possibilities. What if what was out there was worse than Reddon? 

It can't be, I told myself, for my own sake. Anything is better. 

Sleep refused to come to me as I laid there, watching the shadows cast on my ceiling from the oil lamp. Hours of sleep I knew I needed were passing, but the day's events were on repeat within my mind. 

I'd lost everything at once. 

"I'm sorry, mama," I whispered to the air. "I hope you forgive me someday for this." 

Stupidly, for a moment, I thought I would hear mama respond to me. I waited for her voice, breath stuttering as I inhaled through shaking lips. 

Something tapped against my window, soft and almost polite in a way. I immediately sat upright, sneaking towards my door to wiggle the stoker back out. 

Arm extending, I stalked back over to the window, pressing myself against the wall as I used the tip to push back the frayed curtain. The built up tension fled and I took in a soothing breath. 

Fiona. 

I could barely see her in the darkness outside, but I recognized the bobbing white ribbon. I pushed on the window, opening one side of it. 

"Ascelin," Fiona muttered, sounding utterly annoyed. "Do you know how long I was knocking on your door, looking like a crazy woman out here?" 

"I'm sorry," came my grumbled reply. "Someone has been in my home. I thought it best to barricade myself in one room." 

Now that the curtain had been pulled aside completely, I could see some of Fiona in the dull lamp light. She'd been smart enough to get rid of her red as well. 

"Someone has been in your home?" She asked cautiously. Then a second later she was shaking her head. "We need to go. Now," she urged. 

"Hold this," I said, then I was handing her the stoker through the window. 

She took it, but gave me an odd look as she did. "What's this for?" 

"Two women in the wild?" I responded, now tying the burlap sack to my waist. I adjusted myself, scooting the rope to have the sack against my backside, and hidden within William's cloak. "We'll need something to protect ourselves with." 

Fiona scoffed outside, but she didn't have an answer. "Should I take the lamp?" I asked her genuinely, pausing at the window while looking back. 

"Yes, but turn it off," she whispered, her head whipping around to check the trees behind my home. "And hurry." 

I did as she said, handing the now dark lamp to her through the window. A moment later, I'd pulled on worn leather shoes and was climbing out of the window. 

Mud squelched beneath my feet, clinging to it like clay. Fiona was already moving, pushing the stoker back into my hand, but she kept my lamp, tucking it within her own cloak. 

"Let's get going," she said, and it sounded like she was smiling.