Oh! It burns! It burns! It burns! I gotta make it stop! I can't take this anymore! Why is this happening to me? Why?
The dark haired girl was almost frantic. She walked through the center of the village, her eyes darting from side to side, seeking a suitable solution to her problem. So far she wasn't having any luck, her situation beginning to feel dire.
Why this? Why me? Hasn't my life been wretched enough? Aren't I enough of an outcast?
Wringing the tattered edge of her filthy tunic between shaking hands, she reflected on just how wretched it had been. She'd been abandoned at the door of a childless couple as an infant. They cared for her until the day they produced a child of their own, and she was abruptly thrown out into the cold. She'd been 5, and had wandered alone since then.
She found shelter where she could, often sneaking into barns and animal pens after their masters had retired for the night. She sought the animals for warmth on cold nights, and more often than not, ate what they left behind in their troughs. She had learned to be up and gone long before sunrise; the beatings she received were lessons quickly learned.
She had longed for the day she would come of age, figuring it to be the answer to her problems. Men always had a use for women, and she had hoped one would have use for her. The indignities couldn't be worse than what she'd already suffered, and if they meant a roof over her head and an occasional meal, she would suffer them quietly. When her time finally came, she found that instead of deliverance, the fates had heaped one more curse upon her.
It's just not fair. Please? Please make this all stop.
Her pace quickened and her eyes darted from man to man. None of them showing any interest her. More than once she earned scowls and curses from women she passed, some dragged their mates away from her view.
It's like they know. They know just by looking at me.
She'd learned a new kind of fear these last few years. Fear of discovery. She knew how her kind was treated when discovered. She'd listened to the storytellers' tales. They were all the same. Death was the only mercy her kind was ever shown. She had never met another like her, probably never would. Somewhere along the line, she decided that was for the best.
The burning, please make it stop! It has to stop! Please! I can't take it anymore!
Wringing her tunic tighter, she worried there would be no end to her suffering here. The men of this village would not be so eager to take her; to help her. She could feel the panic taking firm hold of her as the burning increased.
Please? Please let there be a way! Please?
Her pleas seemingly answered when a man appeared directly in front of her. He was taller than her, with dark hair and sharp eyes. His skin paleā¦and clean.
When he smiled at her, she was caught off guard.
When he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the forest beyond the village, she offered no resistance. Instead she offered the fates her silent gratitude and tried to keep pace with him.
