Before
Before he’d chopped them down, the planks of their cabin had been pines. She had watched him survey the forest around them, looking for the tallest trees, pride glinting in his eyes. Something worth building their home, their life, together he said. The bright morning sky made his eyes look even lighter than normal. She remembered breathing in the rich earthy smell of the forest, the newly dropped leaves barely beginning to decompose, still crunching beneath her feet as she followed him laughing deeper and deeper into the woods. The smell of crisp air descending towards the frosty dew smell that comes right before the ground freezes. She’d smiled when he finally picked a grove, the tallest for miles, a hand pressed to her swelling belly teeming with the true beginning of their life together.
Maybe she’d cursed them then, for her first thought when he swung the glinting ax with that raw masculine power that had first attracted her to him, was that she’d wished the trees were oak.
Now, the rough hewn planks of their cabin lay unevenly one on top of another. The wood weathered more each year, bleached outside by the blistering summers, but growing darker inside as another winter’s worth of ash coated every crevice. Her spring cleaning scrubbing those roughly carved logs until her hands were bleeding and sore from splintered pieces of wood only served to remind her of everything that could have been. The packed dirt floor had once seemed so quaint, and now was just another mess that never got cleaned. They’d been in such a rush to finish, there hadn’t even been a chance to put in a window. He’d promised her one the next spring, but by the time the snow cleared, something else was more important. Something else was always more important. They couldn’t have afforded a glass pane anyway.
As she stood by the crude fireplace stirring his dinner, all she could think about was her husband never coming home. She could see it, a rouge buck or a misfired arrow, it wouldn’t be hard to believe. He wasn’t as sharp anymore, the contours of muscle along his back and arms softening every year. Withering. Just like how she felt those long nights when he rolled on top of her rutting for warmth or to prove that he could still own her. Most vividly she could see the dark puddle of blood, almost black in the dusk, pooling into the snow before sinking back to the ground. Who’d find him before the thaw?
He provided the food though, and this winter, mild as it was, still seemed never ending. Absent-mindedly she stirred the stew a bit more vigorously. The absolute last thing she wanted was this scrawny doe caught days ago with little fat remaining, but the days in which she could sometimes afford to go to the town butcher were long over. Even he was struggling, and old friendships meant little when a man’s own family was in danger of starving. She ruefully thought, not for the first time, that her mama had warned her. She’d told her not to get pregnant and trapped by the first man who turned her head. If only she’d listened then.
And now the walls really were closing in on her. She could taste the pine on her breath, spitting at her for how much she wished the walls were oak. The splinters from the decaying walls pushed into her chest. The pain in her heart, her lungs, her breast was sharp. Her breathing sped up as she felt pine splinters farther and farther into her skin. She couldn’t breathe, it was all too little, too much, the house still smelled like him even when he was miles away. The scent of garlic, gamey deer, and his sweat overwhelmed every rational thought in her mind. The worn metal spoon dropped from her hand with a thump that seemed to echo off the walls, before being swallowed by the roaring fire and the dancing shadows of the too small cabin without windows. A shudder went down her spine, they were mocking her. She could hear their voices telling her, “run, go, but you’ll never escape.” Her heart was swelling and forcing every bit of air from her lungs as those splinters worked themselves farther and farther inside her. Even breathing was too much, the need to inhale was just another trap.
“Mama?” a small hand clutched her skirt pulling her back for just a moment. The woman willed herself to exhale, forcing herself to breathe in again. She knelt to the ground and scooped up the spoon, staying crouched long enough to cup her daughter’s face in her hand.
“Don’t worry about me, baby, I just splashed myself with the hot stew. Just a sign that dinner is almost ready.”
Dark little eyes studied her warily, such a look of doubt that only a small child can master. As she looked at her daughter’s scrunched up eyes the sharpness in her chest began to loosen. The girl was everything she loved about herself with even more spirit and kindness than she could ever imagine. She stroked her daughter’s hair.
“I’m alright, love.”
Her daughter’s eyes narrowed, she was not so easily distracted. The woman sighed and studied her daughter for a moment. The little girl still looked unconvinced.
“I’m not a baby. I don’t need you to lie to me like other people. I can handle it.” The girl’s voice was indignant. Her mother’s lips curved up into a smirk of sorts. The little girl had her hands on her hips, so small and so fierce.
“When have I ever lied about anything?” she paused for a second before adding, “to you.” She looked around the small room before motioning her daughter to sit by the hearth.
“Here,” she said, “I have a story to tell you.”
The little girl could have cared less about the story, but she loved her mother more than anything and the chance to spend time with her, not to mention the change in attitude was enough of an excuse to do anything her mother wanted. She sat and just watched the fire dance for a few moments. Her mother dusted off the spoon and resumed her mindless, but much gentler, stirring of the stew. No longer did the shadows feel as ominous.
“I can’t say exactly how long ago this happened,” her mother began, “but I know it was long enough ago that I wasn’t born, but not so long that our town didn’t exist. Back then things were a little different though-”
“Wait!” The little girl interrupted, “this really happened?”
“Well I guess you’ll have to decide for yourself... Not that you’ll be able to if you keep interrupting me.” She winked at that. “Things weren’t exactly the same back then. There was still a king and a prince, but there was also a queen. The royal family was, by all accounts, happy and loving. Though our king is a fine one today, there was something different back then. No one remembers exactly what it was, but I always liked to imagine that it was a sort of power that came from the family’s love for each other.
Though the king and queen were just and fair, they were not interested in growing their wealth and power. The prince had always seen the world a bit differently. He was so different, so much smarter than everyone else around him. He knew it too, so I’m sure he had a ridiculously big head. He wanted to open our borders to other lands, to share our goods with people across the continents. His parents disagreed, fearing the change. He began to fight back against his parents, so much so that they and their advisors decided to banish him from the castle. They wanted him away from politics, and though the prince knew his plan was the best he had no choice but to leave everything he knew behind. He moved to a small village, not unlike this one, and met a girl. Their love flourished, his focus was solely on the girl he loved. His family was relieved and asked him to come home, but he refused. His life wasn’t there anymore, not when his heart was with her. No one could get him to even consider returning, he simply stopped responding to their queries.
Until one night, someone crept into the castle and slayed the King and Queen, creeping away before anyone knew something was wrong. Suddenly the prince had no choice but to return to the seat of power, leaving the girl he loved behind. She could never be queen, and he could never force her to leave the only home she’d ever known. He tried to uphold his parent’s view for the future, but without anyone to tell him no his ideas to push beyond returned once more. Under his reign the kingdom’s power began to spread, the coffers swelling with coin like never before until his death years later when he left the kingdom without an heir. He was never able to leave his love for that country girl behind.
After his death, his cousin took over, ancestor to our king today. Many people mourned the loss of the old king, for his cousin, while the family in name, had always been selfish and cruel. But there was no one else, so he gained immense power and wealth when the prince died.
Generations have passed, our king fairer than those before him, but, we’ve never seen summers as warm or trade so rich since the prince died. Even now, sometimes if you listen in the back rooms of the darkest pubs people still whisper about what was lost. ”
“The answer is clear to me.” The light glinted off the steely eyes of the little girl, her face a picture of childhood haughtiness. “The prince shouldn’t have left her behind.”
