Day In. Hide Out.

Chapter 4

Oh, how I remember it well. The memories rush back to me as if I'm in them presently. Going into the bakery every morning with Mama to get fresh bread. In the afternoon, sewing at Mrs. Smith's house, and playing with her grandson, Ascot. And in the evenings, when Father had gone to the pub to play music with his friends, Mama and I would sit out late at night at the window and watch shooting stars shower down from the black sky littered with silver dots and a huge, golden moon.

I emerge from the woods, onto the sidewalk. A few people walk along the street, one woman with a small child and a man. The shopkeepers are opening up their stores one by one, but my eyes rest on the sign reading, Turn the Page. The white paint is peeling, and the rusty hinges it hangs from creak as the breeze blows it back and forth softly. The sign is flipped from closed to open, and the little bell outside tinkles as the shopkeeper comes outside to straighten the pillows on the welcoming benches in front of the windows.

The bay windows shine my reflection back at me as I look both ways and cross. The old man standing with his back to me is the nicest person I know. The owner of this bookstore, Walter Prescott, is the only thing I have left. He has a patch of snow white hair above each ear, and a few little hairs sit atop his shining bald head. The wrinkles in his face and sagging, thin skin on his arms show kindness in every crease. Through the wrinkles, you can still see his prominent dimples when he smiles.

Walter's always kept a couple of woven wicker benches outside his shop, with soft blue cushions that match the store sign. He felt he needed to give back to his community through his printed passion, and he thought the benches may welcome new customers in and give them a place to sit and rest, even if they weren't interested in his books.

As I'm about to tap his shoulder, he stands up and turns. He's about to go inside, but stops when he sees a shadow on the sidewalk. He turns slowly and stares at me, gaping with mouth open wide. After faltering for a moment, he leans in and envelopes me in a bear hug. I haven't been hugged in so long it hurts. The warmth of his body and his bony arms around me comfort me as the tears begin to fall.

Once I've soaked the shoulder of his shirt in salty, pent-up-for-too-long tears, we separate. He keeps his hands planted on my shoulders firmly, and looks at me for a long while. Finally, he lets go, and I wipe my tear stained, red cheeks with the back of my hand and bite my lip. "Hi Walter," I say in a mere whisper, smiling slightly.

"How are you, kid?" he answers in the same tone of voice, smiling. "How old are you now? The castle...."

"Yes, well I'm sixteen. And as for the king, well my life hasn't been in high spirits lately," I reply with a soft laugh, and he smiles, as if he can tell it's the first time I've laughed in a very long time.

"I'm sure. That old, huh? I'm so sorry about your parents, honey, I never had the chance to tell you that," Walter says with a frown. He looks up thoughtfully. He's thinking about that last time he saw me, being carted away, crying and yelling from the open curtains at the back of a royal carriage.

As a runaway tear slips down my cheek, I shrug. "It was five years ago. My lifestyle has changed. But you can't tell anyone I've been here. I cannot stay, I ran away. And though I doubt they'll care to look for me, my parents debts are still not completely paid," I tell him in a hushed whisper.

"At least tell me you've got provisions, child," Walter says in a scolding voice.
I hold up my heavy satchel and open a couple of the pouches with a "so there" kind of look. He nods, considering. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of money, handing it to me. I shake my head vigorously and put out a hand to push him away, but he just shoves the cash into my hand.

I shrug, hug him, and flash a look of sympathy. "I wish I could stay longer, Walter, but you know it's not safe. Please say hello to your wife for me. She always was so sweet to me," I conclude, pulling back the tears that are welling up in my eyes and blurring my vision.

"I have a new book I'd like to give you. To accompany you on your journey and give you comfort. It doesn't have any terrible villains, don't worry. Nothing to haunt your dreams, only to enhance your journey," he says with a smile, slipping inside and coming out again with a green bound book. Its color matches the trees across the way, and the black lettering is stitched in with such care it's as if little fairies had hand sewn it together. "And remember, Zanna, one adventure can become another at a moment's notice. Be ready for anything that comes, and embrace your journey nevertheless."

I thank him earnestly and give him a final, long hug. With that, I stride down the road toward the other shops. I stop in at the old bakery, which is under new management now, I discover, as I go inside to find it renovated. The fresh, warm smell of baking pastries wafts into my nose as I look in through the glass at the rows of wonderful goods. I buy a few pastries and another loaf of bread and put them carefully into my bag after paying the man.

Further down the road, across the street, sits a rundown little clothing store, and I step inside slowly. Rows of dresses and warm coats hang on one side of the room. On the other, rows of long sleeved shirts and pants. I spot a particular dress, a blue cotton one, with little white flowers decorating it. A lacy trim edges the sleeves and the hem, as well as the neckline. I pick it up off the rack and the woman at the counter comes over to me. "A beauty, isn't she?" she asks in a hoarse voice, smiling gently.

I nod silently, but she keeps talking. "You're Lily Moore's sister, right? Alistair's daughter? Am I right?" the woman asks.

"Lily? My name is Moore but....I don't have a sister, ma'am," I tell her softly, feeling embarrassed and confused.

"Of course you do! She ran away long before your parents died. Rest in peace, they may. I believe she moved all the way to Wenham near the border to escape some of the horror happening in her own backyard. Those guards follow the king like dogs. They'd be on her like white on rice if she hadn't run. You, on the other hand, I hear weren't so lucky. How are you here now?" She finishes her long rant by brushing her blonde, gray streaked hair behind her shoulders as a breeze through the open door swirls it around her.

All I can do is stand there gaping, my mouth hanging open, my eyebrows raised. I straighten up and close my mouth, but my eyebrows stay furrowed and I stay planted where I am, holding the beautiful blue dress in one hand. She shrugs. "Just a thought, dear. Would you like to buy that? I'll even give you a discount," she smiles at me, and turns on her heel and resumes her place behind the counter casually.

The only words I can utter are, "I have a sister?! Well....yes, I suppose I'll-- I'll buy the dress, thanks." I set the dress on the counter and pull a bill from Walter's still large stack of money. Gingerly, I tie the straps on my satchel after replacing the money in its pocket and placing the folded dress next to it. I thank the woman and walk out, still pondering her comments about my "sister".

Each village in King Branton's territory is surrounded by woods as a fortification. I decide to mainly stick to traveling through the woods around each village, and stopping for provisions in about every two. I am on the far west side of Branton's territory, and the border to a surrounding country is on the far east side. I'm aiming to get to Breckton, a village just across the border and within safe boundaries, without anyone detecting me or my identity. Well, that's going well so far.

As I'm walking, my mind hatches an idea. I briskly turn around and walk straight back into the store. I set the dress on the counter. "I'd like to trade it out," I say promptly, and the woman raises her eyebrows.

"But I'm sure it'd be beautiful with your hair, miss," she says, beckoning to my long, auburn mop. I shrug and go over to the racks, grabbing two white shirts, and two pairs of brown cotton pants. After also grabbing a too-big-for-me cream colored work coat, I set them all in my satchel and place three bills on the counter.

"Thank you very much," I say, and nod, before leaving the large shop. I walk pointedly down the street, waving to Walter and wiping a tear from my eye as I pass the bookstore.

As it warms up, I keep walking, all the way out of the village and into the forest. Rays of sunlight pass through the trees and reach for the ground. The chirping of little birds keeps me company, along with the rustle of the trees as the wind snakes through their branches. The thick trees with their dense trunks and leftover, fringy leaves surround me, and I try to stick to the setting sun's soft glow on the narrow, frequently trodden path before me.