𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 || Karl Heisenberg

Chapter One: Disaster Strikes

ÉSME IGNORED THE STARES SHE GOT AS SHE TIED HER HORSE TO ITS POST. For she was used to such coldness from the village people, living far past the edge of town was not only isolated physically, but it was a surefire way of getting isolated socially as well. If you didn't associate with the village, you were an outcast, a loner.

It had been that way for the Voinea's for as long as Ésme could remember. Her father would tell her stories of how people would treat him as a child. Bitterly, coldly, with hate and malice. It didn't help they didn't attend church, her family kept their faith in other powers besides Mother Miranda.

The only person who was kind to her father was her mother. A trait she prayed that she would keep every day. For if she did not have her mother's kind heart what would shield her from the cold nature of those who treated her family so poorly? Èsme thought of her mother's kindness like a blanket. Shielding and hopeful. Her mother died when she was young, about eleven. It wasn't a time Ésme liked to reminisce on.

Nine odd years later, her father followed suit. It had been nearly a year. And keeping up with her father's daily tasks seemed more and more impossible every day. Ésme often found herself trading with the Duke to keep afloat. She found him more sweet-hearted than those in town anyway. Luiza and her husband were the only kind ones among the herd. Ésme walked over to the trading stand, adjusting her scarf over her father's tattered and torn jacket. Luiza gave her a warm smile when she saw her approaching.

"How many months has it been?" Luiza tilted her head at Ésme as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Too many." Ésme smiled through her tired reflection. Luiza didn't miss the exhaustion on the girl's face. Bags haunted the underneath of her once youthfully happy gaze. The sparkle in her dark grey eyes seemed to dwindle the longer the years got. Yet she still kept on a smile for those around her, she was her mother's child yet. Luiza was once good friends with Ésme's Floren. That was until she married Sebastian and moved to the edge of the forest with him.

"Come," Luiza held her arms out. "Let me have a look at you." Ésme walked behind the trading post. The snow crunched under her boots as she made her way to Luiza. The woman ran her hands down Ésme's arms and then placed her thumb and index finger on her chin, tilting the girl's head every which way. "You hide how skinny you are in that large coat, your winter skirt does an excellent job at it as well." Luiza tsked as she wagged a finger at her. "You will come home with me tonight,"

"Luiza, I couldn't possibly-" Ésme tried to protest.

"You will eat my food, and that is my trade." Luiza finished. "I will not accept anything else for my jarred goods. Of course, unless you want Georgeta's ridiculously overpriced ones." She looked at the girl expectantly, "That's what I thought." She smugly smiled.

"I thank you." Ésme thanked with gratitude.

"Nonsense. I would not let Floren and Sebastian's child starve to death in the cold of November." Luiza dismissed her. "Come," she patted a seat behind the stand. "Sit while I finish up trades for the day, Earnest and Lullian should be expecting me soon. I'm sure they can make do with one more person." Ésme liked Earnest, he was as kind as Luiza was. Lullian, Luiza's brother, had been cold to her always, but Ésme could tell it was out of a place of uncertainty for her and protectiveness for his sister.

"Something tells me Lullian won't be very happy," Ésme smirked at Luiza, the woman looked mischievously back at her.

"He will have to make do. Besides, we have a new stable boy around your age, Oskar. He's quite sweet." Ésme's cheeks flared up at the mention of the boy.

"Oh, I know him." She said embarrassed. Oskar was another person in the morbidly isolated town that was kind to her. But his kindness was out of his fancy for her. Ésme appreciated the boy's tender nature, but she also felt bad for him, for his feelings could never be reciprocated. Oskar should be every young girl's dream. But as her father would say, he was 'too soft for such a hard-working woman.' Though every boy was just that in her father's eyes. A boy. No matter what they did for a living or how calloused their hands may be. Hers would always be rougher.