𝕭𝖚𝖗𝖓 (18+)

1 - 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖆𝖑𝖒

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The upside to the torrential storm raging outside was that the annual sacrificial ceremony had to be postponed. You couldn't hope to incinerate a person with soggy kindling—and even if a fire did spark it would be put out in seconds under that relentless downpour.

Muriel breathed into her cupped palms as she sat there on her raggedy old bed. A scratchy brown blanket was wrapped snuggly around her form, keeping in as much warmth as possible. Damn this cold, wet climate.

She rubbed her hands together, her green eyes glancing towards the small pantry where she kept her rations. It was nearly empty. She had meant to fetch more days ago, right when the storm had reared its ugly head. At first she didn't think heading out was worth the risk of catching sickness. After all, medicine wasn't cheap. But as she didn't see an end to this dreary weather anytime soon, she figured it had to be risked.

A beat of damp wings and scratch of talons drew her gaze to the windowsill at the opposite stone wall. A thrown rock had broken the glass months ago—a prank on the town's mysterious orphan girl—and since then the crows had decided her small, drab home was theirs as well. This crow in particular was a regular. It cocked its head at her after it squeezed inside, ruffling its feathers to keep warm.

"I'm afraid you won't find it much better in here," Muriel said to the bird with a wry smile. Various pots and pans were laid out to catch the water dripping from the few cracks in the aged ceiling.

It just clicked at her then flew down to perch onto a nearby pan. It dipped its beak into the water and lifted its head to let the drops fall down its throat. After doing this a few times it hopped down to the cold floor, its beady eyes searching for forgotten crumbs.

Muriel sighed as she watched the scavenging crow, nestling further into her blanket. "You and me both, Mister."

She listened to the rain pummeling against stone for a while before finally having the courage to unwrap the blanket from her body and get ready. Immediately the cold seeped into her bones and her teeth chattered, goosebumps raising on her tan skin. She put on another layer above her plain white dress then threw a heavy wool cloak on over that, as grey as the clouds in the angry sky.

Hastily, she put her long black hair into a braid around her head and pulled up the hood of her cloak to cover it. She grabbed her gloves off the small table in the corner and pocketed what little coin she had. Of course Harriet would refuse it, the sweet woman that she was, but nonetheless she would offer it anyway. She wasn't entitled to people's charity.

A soft caw drew her eyes back to the crow peering up at her from the dirty floor. She smiled at it. "I suppose I can bring you a little something to eat. If you think you deserve it?"

The black bird clacked its beak.

"Alright, then," she said as if it had spoken to her. "I won't be long."

As soon as she left the small dwelling, she wished she hadn't. The rain was relentless and determined to soak through her thick layers if she wasn't fast enough. So she set off down the muddy road towards the village. Her boots were thick with mud by the time she hit cobblestone.

No one else was crazy enough to be outside but her, it seemed. She was grateful for that at least. No prying eyes would follow her, no whispers would reach her ears, and she wouldn't feel the sting of rejection every time a person avoided her on the street as if she had the plague. If she had known who her parents were then maybe they would have treated her differently.

Her short trip ended and so did her troublesome thoughts as she knocked on a wide wooden door. It opened to the smiling round face of a shorter, plump woman with greying brown hair and darker brown eyes.