Depravity: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (A Beastly Tale Book 1) (2 page)

Chilled and wet from my time in the water, I shivered as I walked my way around the estate, heading east.  It typically took me most of the day to complete the circuit, but I didn’t mind.  Gradually, the wall curved north, and I passed the place where things usually grew.  I was not surprised to see barren ground, even though I had picked only a third of what the estate had offered that morning.  A third seemed more than a fair share to me, and the estate seemed to agree for, if I returned later in the day, as I did now, it never offered more.

At the northernmost point of the walled property, I spotted a unique flower growing from the mortar.  Its roots barely clung to the hardened surface, but I didn’t puzzle over it.  I knew that anything was possible at the estate or near its wall.  I plucked the flower, placed it in my bag, and continued on my way.

Several hours later, I came back to my traps and found I was lucky to have caught a fat rabbit.  Its dull eyes let me know it’d been waiting for me awhile.

With the rabbit slung over my shoulder, I started home.  Bryn could make a wonderful rabbit stew, and I knew to look forward to it for breakfast.

At home, Bryn had already cleaned up dinner but had left a plate for me near the stove to keep it warm.  She thanked me when I showed her the rabbit, but insisted I clean it before I ate.  She didn’t want it staring at her any longer than necessary.

Tired, hungry, and wanting to change out of my stiff clothes, I went to the back and cleaned the rabbit, keeping the skin for the butcher.  The butcher, a kind man, took many different things in trade for meat.  My luck with snares didn’t often require me to visit the butcher, but it didn’t stop me from helping him when I could.  I had no use for the skins, but he cured them and sold them to traveling merchants or anyone else looking for leather or fur.  It didn’t amount to much money for him, but it did make it possible for him to be charitable to my family when the need arose.

With the carcass clean and the skin set to dry, I brought Bryn what she needed for the stew and sat down for my own rushed dinner.  I hadn’t forgotten the flower and wanted to ask my father about it.

My father, a brilliant man, often fell under the thrall of the books that lined his study walls and didn’t hear me when I first knocked.  I knocked a second time to get his attention.  He looked up with a smile and motioned me in, setting his book to the side.

“What do you have there, Bini?” he asked.

I grinned at him, liking that he had used his pet name for me.  It meant I had his full attention.

“I found this near the wall.  Do you know what it is?”  I handed the delicate flower to him.

“It’s a primrose, dear.  We don’t see them here.”  He set the flower on his desk and stood, eyeing his shelves.  “Let’s see...”  He moved to a section and took a book from its place.  Flipping it open, he read for several moments, occasionally turning several pages at a time.  “Here,” he said, handing me the book.

In it, an artist had sketched a likeness of my flower.  Once common to many places around the world, its numbers had dwindled as ladies, enraptured by its sweet smell, tore it from the ground in vast quantities to make perfume.  I frowned at the book then at the flower.  I shouldn’t have picked it.

“I would think your sister, Bryn, would like the flower if you have no use for it.  She could make a light scent from it.  Very small, of course.  Fun for her to try, no doubt,” he said as he went back to his book.

I scooped up the wilted flower, replaced the book, and did as he suggested, feeling guilty.

*    *    *    *

With relief, I tucked the warm loaf of bread into the bag hanging from my shoulder.  The crust crackled as I handled it, sending the yeasty smell into the air to tickle my nose; and I couldn’t wait to get back to the cottage to show Bryn.

After two days of patiently waiting, I’d finally had a bit of luck.  In need of a visit to the outhouse, the baker had called for his mother and asked her to watch the browning bread.

Mrs. Medunge called another thanks for the carrots and wild onions and waved a farewell from the side door.  I spared her a brief wave in return and hurried from the cramped alley between the bakery and the baker’s storage shed.

Konrall consisted of one main dirt road that divided the village north to south.  To the north, it led to the next village, Water-On-The-Bridge, some twelve miles away.  To the south, it led to farmlands and little else.  But here, in the middle of the village, its stone filled ruts lent a clean look, as did the trim grass growing between the line of buildings on each side of the road.

It was a pleasant enough way to walk if it wouldn’t have brought me too uncomfortably close to the blacksmith.  I’d successfully avoided Tennen and Splane since our last run-in.

As I neared the butcher, Sara, flanked by Tennen and Splane, left the smithy and headed in my direction.  Panicking, I stepped through the butcher’s open door, startling him.

“Ho, there, Bini!” cried Mr. Flune with a laugh.  “Are you so hungry to come running through my door?”

“I’m sorry for startling you, Mr. Flune,” I said.  “I wanted to see if you found the hide I left at your door yesterday.”

“I did indeed,” he said with a kind smile.  “It’s a beauty.  We don’t see white fur often, so it will fetch a fine price.”  He stepped back from his butcher’s block, away from the meat laid out for slicing, and reached for a small wrapped package.  “This is for you, a trifling token of thanks for such a prize.”

Smiling widely, I took the package, liking the mystery of it.  He often gave me small things to take home, and I never knew what they might be.  I thanked him and, after checking the road, went on my merry way, happy with the day’s trades.

When I walked through the cottage door, Bryn was consoling a sobbing Blye.

“What’s happened?” I asked.  Blye should have been at work; the day had just started.

“The seamstress can’t afford to pay me this month.  There are too few orders.”

Though Blye didn’t earn much, what she did earn, helped.  With that disheartening news, I pulled the bread from my bag and set it on the table.

“It’s still warm,” I said quietly to Bryn.  I handed her the package, too, having already peeked at its contents.  A dollop of pig fat glistened within.

Meanwhile, Blye continued to sniffle and sob.  Though I considered the loss of her coin sad news, I didn’t understand why Blye would choose to wail in self-pity rather than look for a solution.  It was a waste of time to carry on as she was.  At the very least, she should have faith our father would not let us fall into destitution.

“Blye, we’ll pull through,” I said. “We always do.  Please stop crying.  You don’t want Father to come home and see you like this.”  Her gaze flashed with displeasure, but she wiped at her eyes.  I took that as a good sign and continued trying to cheer her.

“You are clever with a needle and thread.  And, you still have bits of the materials she’s given you.  You’ll find something clever to do with those.  I know you will.  I’ll probably see someone wearing a bit of it in their hair or on their breast next week.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought I’d offended her.  But, she popped from her chair, a slow smile creeping onto her tear-stained face.

“You are the brilliant one, Benella.  Their hair,” she said excitedly.  “I can make pieces to exactly match the existing dresses.”

I had no idea what she meant but nodded my agreement.  She dashed back to our room, saying she needed to start right away and that I should bring her anything pretty I found on my wanderings, like feathers and such.

“You always seem to find the right side and turn it up.”  Bryn shook her head then cut me a slice of the bread and spread a thin layer of our fresh butter on it.  “Here.  Take this with you.  I know you’ll want to walk around and find something for Blye right away.”

I reached for the bread as she expected, even though I didn’t really want to walk the estate so soon.  Blye would appreciate anything I found, especially if I found it quickly.  If I stayed, she would probably start crying again.  Taking a bite of the bread, I grabbed my bag and left.

The dark woods surrounded me with a sense of peace.  Many of the village folk didn’t like foraging so close to the estate, and that made my foraging much quieter and easier.  Before I reached the shadowy mists, I heard the cry of a large bird above me.  I followed it with my eyes and watched it land on a forked branch of the largest tree in the area.  Not far from its perch, I spotted a twig nest that was wedged in the crotch of the two branches. The bird ruffled its white and grey feathers and hopped forward to begin feeding its squawking young.

Wrinkling my nose, I eyed the bird’s feathers then adjusted my bag and set to climbing the enormous tree.  The bark bit into my hands and scraped the skin of my legs through my woolen trousers as I scrambled from branch to branch.  The bird noticed my ascent and shrieked at me before taking flight.

Minutes later, I pulled myself onto the branch that held the nest and glanced at the tangle of twigs.  Slowly, I inched forward, clinging to the branch so the wind didn’t catch me unaware.  The large chicks, blind to what approached them, chirped at me hopefully and opened their mouths wide.  Soft down feathers the size of my hand lined the nest and cushioned the chicks.  Those beautiful white feathers would be a prize in any lady’s hair.

I removed several from the nest, careful not to touch anything else.  I didn’t want to scare the mother off or rob the babies of their warmth.

The climb down took much longer than the climb up, and my legs began to shake with the strain before I reached the ground.  In the distance, I heard voices and worried they might be Tennen and Splane’s.  Despite the tiredness I felt, I hurriedly dropped the last few feet, managed to land softly, and quickly disappeared into the mists.

I traversed around the wall, finding more treasures.  The place where the primrose had grown now had several more delicate flowers.  Carefully, I plucked the buds, leaving the roots to grow.  Bryn hadn’t been able to make anything with the single flower, and I doubted she’d be able to do much with the six I’d just found, but the candle maker might.

Not far from the primrose, I discovered a large spider spinning a silvery web.  It noted my attention and spat web at me.  I jumped back in surprise, and the web missed me and landed on the grass.  It shimmered in the mist.  Keeping an eye on the spider, I bent to touch the web.  It didn’t stick to my fingers.  Instead, its strong silk slithered over them softly.  It would make a fine thread.  The spider didn’t seem to notice me pulling the mass of web from the grass.

Hungry and tired, I returned home well after dinner.  A covered plate waited for me in the quiet kitchen.  Sitting to eat, I heard Bryn and Blye talking softly in our room and knew our father read in his study, as he did every night after dinner.

It didn’t take my sisters long to come from the room and inquire after what I’d found.  I set my food aside and pulled the thread and feathers from the bag.  Blye exclaimed over the thread, asking where I’d found it.  When I explained about the spider, she begged me to return the next day to try to get more.  I nodded my agreement, and she left with her prizes to go sew.

*    *    *    *

The candle maker eagerly accepted the flowers, saying a scented candle was worth its weight in silver. Then, he sadly admitted he had nothing to give me in payment until it sold.  Though disappointed, the lack of payment didn’t stop me from looking for more flowers as I walked around the wall to find the spider.  But the day didn’t gift me with either of them.  The primrose plants that I’d plucked free of any flowers the day before were completely gone.  The spider, too, had vanished along with his pretty web.  Even the patch that usually yielded some type of food had nothing.  I eyed the wall sadly, wondering why it was being so uncooperative.

As I neared the gate to complete my journey around the estate, it swung open of its own accord.  Heart thumping wildly in my chest, I froze and stared at the black iron, listening for the telltale sounds of the beast’s approach.  Nothing sounded but the wind.  It puzzled me why the gate would open as it had.  I didn’t think it was an invitation.  Especially when the wall hadn’t been very bountiful like it usually was.  Guilt struck at how much I’d taken over the last few days without giving anything in return.  Usually, I only took carrots, onions, and the like.  What if the estate expected compensation for the other things I’d taken?  Worried that might be the case, I checked my bag for an offering but found nothing.  With unease, I walked away.

The day grew pleasantly warm as I made my way home.  When I neared, I went around back to check my own garden’s progress.  The onions were just sprouting little green tops, and the peas were an inch high.  I hoped the warm weather would hold.

“Well, how much did you get?” Bryn’s voice carried through an open window.

I looked up in surprise.  The voice had come from our shared bedroom window.

“A silver!” Blye said.  I smiled, knowing they were talking about Blye’s first hairpiece.

“And I’m hiding it in the usual spot,” Blye continued.  “I wish Benella didn’t even know I’d been working on it.  What if she mentions something to Father?”

My smile faded as I listened.

“We’ll keep her busy searching for more things to use.  It should be fine,” Bryn said.