She had spent the last several weeks locked away in a small cubby, purposely built, within the barn; punishment for breaking a cup. It hadn't been a new or even particularly expensive cup. In fact, it had been Sairona's personal cup, old and worn, chipped so sharply around the edges that it cut into her lips if she wasn't careful, and she certainly hadn't dropped it on purpose, not that the woman would listen to her protests. For the crime of vandalism and talking back, she had been dragged bodily through the mud and thrown into the little cell, there to while away her days listening to the jeers and taunts of her half-siblings both older and younger, fed table scraps and given water in a small bowl.
Not an hour hence, the woman had finally decided to set her free once more. Pulled out by her hair, the girl had been given a stern tongue lashing, a slap or two about the head and told to not show her face again until sunset.
Sairona had fled without a backward glance. She wasn't about to waste this chance to be away from the place and the people who lived there. She had run! Or rather, she had tried, but the weeks of inactivity and poorer sustenance than usual had left her legs feeling rather weak. It had taken several rest stops before she had even come close to her destination.
Antoth!
How she had missed him! That giant of a man with his thin, shaven face and muscles like knotted rope. How she had missed his cool green eyes, thick bushy brows and the gentle sound of his voice encouraging her to learn, grow stronger and not let the evils of her home life turn her cold. He had become more a father to her in the last six years than her own had ever been. She could almost taste his berry tisane as she began the walk across the wide meadow. Her stomach growled at the thought of his freshly baked honey cakes, her dry mouth flooding with saliva at the idea of biting into one, how the warm honey would drizzle down her chin...
It was not until she was mere yards away, pushing her slender frame through the thick grass, that she realised something was missing. The sun shone, the breeze stirred her hair, but where was the hum of the bees?
Odd.
Even more odd was the vegetable patch. Weeds had taken root, beginning their slow inexorable strangle of the crops planted there.
Sairona knocked at the door. No response. Balling up her fist more tightly, she hammered at the thick wood as best she could. Still nothing. Her heart stopped, her breath froze in her throat. Could it be...? Was he...? He was not a young man by any stretch of the imagination. Might he be hurt? Or worse, dead?
Concern turned to fear. She stood upon the rough hewn bench, rising to the tips of her toes to feel her way across the lintel. There, as it had always been, was the spare key. Grasping it tightly, she jumped back down to the floor, inserted the key into the lock and turned. Suddenly hesitant, she pushed the door open slowly. She didn't want him to be dead. She didn't want to see him that way. He was strong, vibrant, healthy and always there! He was fine. He had to be!
It was dark inside the hut. Dark and cold. It smelled of wet ashes. Wrinkling her nose, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim light, peering over at the fireplace. There were, indeed, ashes there, still sodden from a recent rain that she had heard but not seen, but gone was the teapot and small cauldron. Gone were the battered utensils that had hung upon the chimney breast. The chairs remained nearby, his big one and her small one, but that was all. Confused, she looked around. The bookshelf was empty, the larders too. The bed, once concealed behind a curtain, was devoid of coverings and the chest that had held his clothing was open, empty.
Antoth was gone.
No. No, she couldn't believe it. She wouldn't. He'd not leave her like this! He'd not leave her behind without word or warning! Frantically, she made another search. Surely, somewhere in this place, there was an envelope, an explanation, some sign that he'd come back. He'd promised to always be there for her. He'd promised to always teach her. He'd promised! He'd promised...
Defeated, she slumped down in her chair, face buried in her hands, shoulder shaking with the effort of holding back the tears that threatened to fall. Crying solves nothing, she reminded herself harshly. But maybe denial would. If she came back as often as she could, if she tended his vegetables, kept the place tidy and clean, maybe he'd return. Maybe he'd come back. Maybe, the next time he left, he'd take her with him.
She waited all day in the cold, silent and empty hut. She waited in the must and the dust, alone and lonely. She waited until the shadows outside grew long and she could wait no more, all too aware of the punishment she would face if she was late to return to that other place. When finally she left, it was with a heavy heart and sloping shoulders. Her sanctuary was gone. Her friend was gone. She had nowhere left to run and no one left to turn to.
Still, she clung to the sliver of hope that she might be wrong. She returned to that hut at every available opportunity, pulling weeds and cleaning the floor, dusting the furniture and ensuring that there was always a stack of dry wood in the fireplace to light. She returned again and again for over a year.
Antoth never came back.
