Ever since they'd returned from the forest, and following further, later hikes for more fresh water, quicker now that they knew the way—that she had spent much consideration on, carving landmarks, mapping the best route and its shortcuts and alternative ones if it didn't work out that particular day, figuring the time taken and time spent though she wasn't particularly inclined toward that sort of thinking and Isolde had helped her in that regards, and other preparations, food, clothes, medicine, flint, ax, knife, whatever they'd need for a care-free journey there and back again in repetition—Achi was also noticing that Krista was restless. That she paced, twiddled her fingers, was looking mighty spooked about something only she knew what of and what about, and that it was any moment that she might squeal.
Whatever got Krista riled up was always at night, and something in that forest, because she always looked in its direction when it happened, and it wasn't because of no animal. Maybe being here had finally gotten to her head and she was seeing things that weren't there. A live unsuited for a prissy, proper girl. But, then, Krista, hadn't struck her as one of those types, fake goddess or not, and learned to adapt to farm life quicker than Achi expected without being told what to do and how to do it. Which gave her the idea that Krista's life before hadn't been that far removed from her own, that they had more in common that either would like to admit. A thought that made her spit because it left a loathsome taste in her mouth.
When Krista wasn't inside she was with that horse of hers, which brought her comfort like Achi's necklace did for her. She'd warned her not to be taking anything the old woman was looking to sell before the coming winter but time and again she'd seen the girl sneak there with a basket in the night when it was assumed everyone was sound sleeping. Achi only pretended to be after the first time when she'd accidentally done so from exhaustion, three days non-stop and she still hadn't heard a lick of gratitude for, tucking her necklace aside, closing her eyes, breathing soft, breathing slow, then waiting. Even followed her on more than one occasion though nothing had come of it. Though, whatever it was, like before, she was going to be prepared.
She no longer had the stick from the first time, having whittled it down to pick things between her teeth since—she could always find another if she needed to—but in its place she'd swiped a knife from a neighbor's in the village, always taking it on their hikes and keeping it hidden otherwise.
And she had a feeling that whatever shook Krista awake at night, whether it be just shadows or something more, was going to come around again soon.
In the between, other than her work around Isolde's, helping the old woman fix it up from fall showers, summer a month over, plunging holes, cleaning the chimney, shearing sheep, spinning wool; with the livestock in the village, gathering eggs, chopping heads, bleeding hogs, milking the cows and goats, watching for wolves—familiar from seven, adept by ten and now able to do most tasks alone at twelve and proud of it 'cause her papa and mama raised her good; and crops, sowing and planting the fields, harvesting wheat, rye, barley, hay into bushfuls and bales, cutting corn stalks, pulling potatoes, she'd little free time.
In trying to keep up with what her parents started her on—'sides hygiene, her manners, and all—most of it was spent on improving her reading and writing, and Achi often asked the old woman for help with that, which was happily obliged. It was during one of these lessons that Isolde told her to look after Krista, and she reckoned Krista to look after her. To trust. To be trusted. To share their pain and lean on the other because they needed it and the old woman wanted it.
And so it was now that Isolde reminded—no, strongly suggested her, or else, just like her mama would've—her to make an effort, as she read a newspaper she'd brought back from her most recent trip to Yarckel just the previous day and whose words Achi couldn't quite figure nor of which drew her interest being about yesterday's news in a place she'd hardly seen or cared for, as they sat there eating morning porridge, with Krista outside working early as it was her turn though Isolde had still made sure she had something waiting for her when she was done and mentioning one day that Krista might be able to help her, too.
"Reads 'bout everything she gets her hands on," she said in a break from the story she was telling, getting up from the supper table and heading over to the kitchen counter, reaching high for something where the cups and bowls were above the sink, her back turned. "And writes well."
"Doin' just fine," Achi grunted out in reply, taking in a spoonful of porridge. Out the corner of her eye Achi saw her take down something wrapped in a cloth.
Isolde set whatever it was on the table. "Only askin' you think on it, and make the right choice," she concluded with a thin smile, before putting on her hat and leaving out the backdoor to check on Krista and how the morning's work was coming along.
Looking up from her bowl, Achi uncovered the cloth and was left staring at the very knife she'd stolen. With a scowl and realization that nothing got past that old woman, she pushed herself away from the table, and went to the back window.
The dawn a faint orange half blocked by the dark and rainy looking clouds, a storm was on its way, a chill lingered in the air, and warming her hands with her bowl of porridge she continued to eat from, sniffing as she thought to dress in another layer for today's work, she watched Krista talking with Isolde. Krista, with her fake smile. Krista, with her secrets. Krista, with her mouth full of shit.
Achi chewed, then swallowed. A lump in her throat.
She remembered the old man; his house hadn't been cleaned out since forever and she'd spent her time exploring it after he'd sheltered her, reminiscing on waking up frightened, the streets below packed with panic-stricken people all clambering for safety further in. Her grandpa that her parents never visited or spoke of, why she didn't know and might never, shuffling inside the room with a plate of cookies. Joining her by the window, scratching his white beard. Telling her that everything was alright, that they'd go look for her parents when things died down. Distracting her, from the horrors she'd seen, and how in denial she was because of it.
It was a promise.
She'd only been with him for a few days, but he'd helped her more than she could ever be grateful for.
Achi sucked in her breath. Tears welled in her eyes.
Remembering the old man and the funny, but, dumb, way he talked recalling the stories he would tell of his time in the military as a member of the Garrison Regiment and how proud he'd been, defending the Walls with those red roses on his vest, when word came that a District near Shiganshia was preparing an expedition, all volunteers welcome, of course he'd volunteered himself for it. How couldn't he?
Well, he hadn't come back.
And not long after she came under the old woman's care, a long-time friend of his.
Isolde told her it was his final wish for her to live a peaceful existence and being with her at Thorpe was the first step towards such a life. To forget the horrors she had seen that day, and hopefully gain back even a sliver of what she'd lost of her innocence. That he was a symbol to them all of what exemplified the fight for humanity's future against the Titans.
But what good was a symbol, if nobody was there to follow behind it?
What good was a promise if you couldn't keep it?
What good did it do, remembering the past?
What good was it, to dream about what might've been? That her papa and mama were alive again? That they'd somehow made it out, even though she'd stared the truth right in its big, ugly, smiling face, stained with blood?
What good was it to hope? To lie? To pretend? To think that your dreams were real? You stupid, dumb, fucking—!
She wanted to punch something.
To scream out.
Seeing them disappear into the stables where the horses were, Achi wanted to curse the world and everyone in it, but all she could do was shudder there holding her bowl of porridge and cry. Except, she wasn't that scared, wide-eyed little girl she used to be anymore.
She'd woken up from her dream, and it was high time Krista did the same.