Of Immortal Make

A Very Important Day: Part 1

217 post finem

Nadiya was silent, still, and focused, her muscles wound tight as bowstrings at the ready. She took a deep breath and held it, waiting with the practiced patience of a master at their craft. When she finally felt the slimy touch of scales against her skin, her reflexes let loose, small hands diving beneath the surface and closing around the wriggling creature.

"Gotcha!" she whooped triumphantly as she rose from the water hugging the fish.

"And what will you do now that you've got it?" came an unexpected and all-too-familiar voice from behind her. 

Startled, she turned, her trophy slipping from her arms and landing with a splash, though not before smacking her full in the face with its tail. It left behind a slick, stinky goodbye, which she sheepishly wiped off with the back of her hand.

Standing on the bank of the man-made pond was Ansel. He was the oldest man Nadiya had ever known, slightly stooped and white-haired, yet—as she had witnessed first-hand on more than one occasion—surprisingly quick and strong for someone his age. Years ago, he had been given strict orders by her parents to never let her out of his sight, a job he did well enough despite the girl's increasingly clever means of escaping his eye.

And yet, somehow, he always managed to find her when she gave him the slip. It was a lesson she learned for the first time three years ago, but not one she let stop her nagging need to explore every nook and cranny of Windrich Colony.

"Would you kindly remove yourself from Fergus's pond? I expect he'd be rather displeased to find you out here harassing his fish... again." Her old chaperone, exasperated, weaved a clear demand behind his polite tone.

She didn't respond but slowly trudged her way to the bank, her feet sinking into the soft, suctioning mud. She pushed the reeds aside, grunting when a cattail snapped backwards and tangled itself in her long, black hair, thick with knots from her escape. She stepped in front of him, still not saying a word, and wiped her hands on her pants, their original cream color now a rather distasteful shade of brown.

He looked down at her, evaluating her appearance, as she sheepishly tried to avert her eyes. Ansel would have had the kindly face of a grandfather if it had not been hardened by his many years serving as a Patroller. The left side of his face was marked with the stiff ridges and valleys of a deep, permeating scar, the result of a childhood injury that had left him blind in that eye.

Nadiya grimaced as his nose scrunched ever-so-slightly; she must smell as bad as she looked. He sighed and knelt in front of her, pulling a handkerchief from the leather pouch he kept at his side.

"Honestly, child, is this any way to behave? Especially someone in your position," he griped as he held her chin between finger and thumb, rubbing her face clean before stuffing the soiled cloth back into its home. "Yet here you go getting yourself covered in muck every chance you get." He let go and sat back on his heels, one brow raised, looking at her expectantly.

She rubbed the back of her hand across her nose and sniffed. She did stink.

"I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled, finally meeting his gaze. She never held anything against Ansel for fulfilling his chaperoning duty, even if it did limit her adventuring. She'd asked him one time how he was able to follow her trail through the winding streets of the Colony. His response had been a faraway smile and, in a dreamy voice, "I know these streets and their secrets far better, and have for much longer, than you, wild one."

That same smile greeted her now. "I know you are, and I know you'll do it again the next time your parents send you out with poor old Ansel on your heels. But who knows when that will be, given these new circumstances." He shrugged. "Come. It's time we head back. You'll need a hot bath and a good scrubbing with quite possibly the strongest soap Eloise has in her arsenal to get yourself presentable for tonight."

He stood and, groping at the tall grass, snapped off a cattail. He handed it to Nadiya while offering his other hand, wrinkled and warm and kind. She accepted both, twirling the cattail between her forefinger and thumb as they made their way up the path from Fergus's Fishery.

Their journey took them through the Market District, the bustling epicenter of Windrich Colony where locals and travelers sold their wares from a maze of brightly colored tents and haphazardly constructed stalls.

The sounds and smells usually enraptured Nadiya, but the electric buzz in the air this afternoon was stifling, and she slipped the cattail behind one ear and grabbed Ansel's hand with both of hers.

"Just a quick detour, then it's straight home," he assured her, bending over so she was able to hear him over the shouts of the crowd.

Bordering the square on all sides were rows of shops housed in curiously constructed buildings that seemed to list precariously too far forward for Nadiya's liking. She wondered how occupants on the top floors didn't tumble out of open windows to bounce on the cobbled ground below and pictured, with a frown, the overripe apple she once watched her best friend Theo toss from her balcony—and how it looked splattered against the terrace.

Ansel led her to a corner shop displaying a weathered sign with a winged horse prancing in chipped white and blue paint, below which a delicate hand had etched The Golden Bridle. "I'll just be a moment," he said, touching the top of her head and pleading. "Please, stay here." 

She nodded. Today was an important day, after all. He entered the shop, the pleasant ding of a bell chiming from above the door.

Nadiya peered through the windowpane, behind which dusty knickknacks and odds and ends were arranged just so. Turning to look back at the square, its menagerie of colors sprawling before her, she decided to see how many things of ten she could find.

Ten children, laughing as they chased each other barefoot through the legs of patrons and dodged the groping hands of angry stall owners. Ten cats lazing about contently, eyes closed against the late afternoon sun. Ten ladies with ceremonial ribbons in their hair, baskets of goods resting in the crook of their elbows. She lifted her gaze. What about ten trees? 

No, not here. She frowned. In the Wild, there's way more than ten trees.

But in the Colony, trees were few and far between, growing in designated natural spaces and the special gardens of the Councilors District where government officials lived. She looked even higher, letting her eyes focus on the monstrous, gray stone wall that surrounded the Colony.

From here, she could only see one turret in the distance, though she knew from her father that the wall had twelve, each closely guarded by the Patrollers who kept them safe on the inside, and the Hunters who kept them safe from the outside.

Letting out a deep breath, she looked even higher, catching sight of a flock of birds, too small and numerous to count. A wave of vertigo crashed over her, and she quickly receded to her dirty feet instead.

The shop's bell chimed again and Ansel emerged, stuffing a small brown package into his leather pouch. "Thank you for waiting," he said, not hiding his relief as he extended his hand. She took it and they turned south, their shadows walking alongside them on the cobbled road.