Bare feet sank into the soft soil with each hurried step. It had rained the night before making the ground perilous and causing the long heavy grass to whip at her legs, soaking through her nightdress until it clung to her slender frame, tight and binding like so much rope. She didn't allow it to slow her down, however. The dawn was but a blush on the horizon as she ran headlong toward the only sanctuary she knew, breath huffing out like little puffs of smoke upon the frigid spring air. She could still hear the yelling behind her, the anger of her father's wife, the jeering of her half-siblings. More deafening than either was the silence from her father, the indifferent gaze, unmoved by her pain, uninterested in her existence.
"Antoth, Antoth," she called as she skidded to a stop before the hut belonging to the only man to show her any kindess. Small hands balled into fists, banging against the rough surface of the closed door. "Antoth please! Please let me in! Please..."
She leaned against the door, cheek pressed against the wood, shoulders shaking with the effort of not bursting into tears. Her eyes closed, lips continuing to move with quieter pleas. Maybe he wasn't there. Maybe he'd gone hunting or spent the night at the tavern. Maybe he'd gone back to wherever he came from, leaving her behind...
She almost fell when the portal swung inwards, a yelp of surprise escaping her lips. Strong, rough hands caught her before she could hit the floor. She was gathered into thick arms, held tightly until her shaking subsided and then pushed back that she might be stared at.
"What did they do to you this time, child?" Antoth asked, eyes still heavy with sleep. "Look at the state of you." He tsk'd, turning away to retrieve some clothing. "Get out of that sodden thing. Wrap up warm, now."
Sairona sniffled lightly, nodding acknowledgement of his directives and then following up on them. Before long, her sopping wet shift was hung to dry by the fire, the embers stirred back into life by her whilst Antoth had seen to the making of some honey cakes for breakfast. He had given her one of his old tunics to wear, and though she knew he had not meant to look, she nevertheless had heard his unhappy growls as he had noted the marks upon her back and buttocks.
Now sat in the small chair he had made for her, a steaming mug of tisane made from berries clutched between her hands and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she began to feel a little more secure.
"What happened?" he asked eventually, cool green eyes peering down upon her with concern. "Why did you flee your home so early this day?"
"It rained," she replied quietly, looking down into the mug. "There was a leak in the roof."
Antoth nodded, needing no further explanation. In the two years since first they had met, she had told him of many such incidents. They weren't uncommon for her. He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together, though he always did his best not to reveal the extent of his anger to the child.
"I didn't do it!" Sairona added hastily, suddenly terrified that he might blame her too. "I didn't!"
"I know, child," he said as reassuringly as he could, one large paw reaching across to pat at her knee. "I believe you."
Comforted, she settled down again, breathing a small sigh of relief as she raised the mug to her lips for a sip of the hot liquid. Time passed in comfortable silence with only the crackling of the fire and the hum of the recently installed beehive outside to tickle the ears. She liked these moments, when no one was yelling at her or calling her names, when no one was trying to hurt her or make her cry, delighting in her fear or pain. She liked these moments with Antoth, warm and safe, comfortable and calm.
"Come," he broke the silence, patting at his own knee in invitation. "Show me how clever you are."
She didn't hesitate. She shrugged off the blanket, bare feet padding quickly over to the small shelf across the room. She had to push herself up to the very tips of her toes, fingers carefully teasing her treasure forward that she might pull it down, but soon enough she held it tightly and returned to her friend. Scrambling up onto his lap, she opened the book upon hers and, running her finger across each rune in turn, haltingly read aloud to him. Once in a while, she looked to him to help her with a particularly difficult word. Once in a while, he gently corrected her when she got something wrong. Slowly but surely, she learned.
It was late afternoon when they were rudely interrupted by the sound of a fist hammering at the door. Antoth glared in its direction, hairy brows pulled so far down in a deeply displeased frown that they almost obscured his eyes entirely. Sairona looked to the door as well, although her expression was more akin to panic, her heart suddenly beating fit to burst out of her chest. The banging continued. Antoth huffed, picking up the girl and placing her gently down upon her own chair.
"Wait here," he told her firmly before rising. Long legs took him over to the door. Bright daylight spilled in as he yanked it open and then was cut off again as he stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him. Pulling her knees up to her chest, teeth biting deeply into her lower lip, Sairona listened to the muffled argument.
"Where is she?" a voice that could only belong to her father's wife demanded hotly. "Don't try to hide her! I know she comes here!"
A quieter, more measured response from Antoth was rendered unintelligible by the thickness of the wood.
"How dare you!" the woman shouted. "You know nothing, meddler!"
"Hand her over," her father's voice boomed, stern and seething. "She's mine. She's not yours to keep."
Another muffled response from Antoth, followed by what could only be threats from both husband and wife. Sairona laid the book aside, quickly changed into her dried nightdress and crept toward the door. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to leave the comfort of this place or the safety of the huge man she called friend, but she had to. They would never give up, her father and his wife. They would never let her go. They hated her, they didn't want her, but they certainly wouldn't allow her to be anywhere else either. If she stayed, she'd only get Antoth in trouble, maybe even hurt. Her stomach tightened into knots at the thought. She pulled the door open a crack, one eye peering out into the meadow beyond. They all looked so angry! Even with his back to her, she could see how tense and unhappy Antoth was.
"Get out here, girl!" the wife called.
Sairona cringed, but pulled the door open further and stepped out into the daylight.
"Get here!" hissed the woman, pointing at the ground before her.
Sairona complied, shooting an apologetic look to Antoth, then lowering her gaze to the floor and lowering her head. He frowned, but said nothing. Sairona came to a stop before the woman, hunching her shoulders as the slap she knew was coming hit her squarely in the side of the head.
"Stupid girl," the woman hissed, taking a grip upon her wrist so tight that the child could feel her bones grinding together. "How dare you bother the kind stranger? You won't be coming back, that's for sure!"
Sairona's heart sank. As she was dragged away, the woman not bothering to slow her stride to account for the shorter legs of the child, and the man following in their wake with his usually dispassionate gaze, Sairona looked back sadly to Antoth.
"You will," he told her in Westron, a language he had been teaching her but was certain her parents did not understand. "It'll be our secret."
But not for a while, she thought.
It had been a nice day for the most part. Now she would pay for those hours of security, and pay dearly. Even before they had made it back to their home, the eight year old knew that it would be a long time before she could sit down without wincing.
