Flight of Frost and Aurora

Chapter 22

The next morning, Charlotte moved about, preparing breakfast. The warm aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air, yet her heart felt heavy as she set the table for her stepmother, and her stepsister. She poured steaming cups of tea and arranged the plates.

"Charlotte, hurry up with the bread!" Lute called from the dining table, her voice sharp and demanding.

"Just a moment, I'm almost done," Charlotte replied, forcing a smile as she carried the bread to the table, placing it down gently before taking her own seat.

"Not so fast, girl," Eisheth snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Have you forgotten about the spinning? It needs to be done this morning."

Charlotte sighed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle heavily on her shoulders. "I'll get it done after I eat," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"No, you need to do it first. You're not here to sit around and eat while the rest of us work," Eisheth shot back, her voice rising in irritation.

"But I'm hungry, and I—"

"Enough!" Eisheth interrupted, her patience clearly worn thin. "You are a lazy and ungrateful girl. You should be more obedient. If you don't start pulling your weight around here, I'll convince your father to throw you out on the streets. In fact, he told me that's exactly what he would do if you ever displeased me or your sister."

Charlotte's heart sank, and she looked at her stepmother in pure horror.

"No..." she whispered. "No, that's not true! He would never say that! He wouldn't!"

"He absolutely did. Your father is devoted to me. I was the one who helped him through the terrible grieving period after your mother died. Not you. He probably loves me more than he ever loved you."

Charlotte could bear to listen no longer. She walked out of the house and toward the spinning wheel, but before she began to work, she paused to let her tears flow. She didn't want to believe her stepmother's words; she told herself that Eisheth was lying, that her father loved her too much to even consider such a dreadful notion. Yet, if she was so certain of that, why were the tears streaming down her face? Perhaps, deep down, she harbored a secret fear that it could be true. After all, Eisheth had such a strong influence over her father—strong enough to turn him against his own child.

Unbeknownst to Charlotte and her stepfamily, Alastor had been lurking nearby, listening intently to their conversation. A wave of anger washed over him as he witnessed the mistreatment of Charlotte. He resolved that the women had crossed a line this time and deserved to face the consequences of their actions—an especially harsh lesson.

Stealing a handful of corn and grain from the goat feed, he quietly made his way into the forest, heading towards a burrow he knew well—one that served as a home for a skunk.

"Yoo-hoo!" he called out to the burrow, extending a hand filled with feed. "Hey there, I've got a treat for you!"

The skunk, curious and hungry, peeked out from the burrow, its nose twitching at the enticing scent of the corn and grain. Alastor grinned, his plan forming in his mind. The skunk approached him cautiously, hesitated, and then began to eat the feed from his hand.

"Now, my little friend," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, "I need you to do me a favor."

He carefully and gently picked up the skunk, taking great care not to frighten it. Once he had it in his grasp, he carried it back to the house and set it down just outside the door, waiting for the perfect moment. Soon, Eisheth and Lute emerged, their laughter ringing through the crisp morning air. Just as they stepped outside, Alastor gave the skunk a gentle nudge, and it darted toward them. Eisheth let out a startled shriek, stumbling back in surprise, while Lute squealed in horror. The skunk, sensing the sudden commotion, raised its tail, and chaos erupted as the two women dashed back inside, shouting for help. Alastor couldn't suppress a soft chuckle, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having playfully disrupted their morning.