Of Roses and Thorns

Prologue: Briar

She wasn't supposed to be here. In this dusty letter keep that smelled of paper and over-perfumed bodies. She wasn't supposed to be out of the forest everyone was terrified of. She wasn't even supposed to be out of the cottage. The thought of the pleasant abode made her shiver, the red leather jacket squeaking on her shoulders. It wasn't the cottage itself but what lay in it that made her want to stop the sun from setting. Speaking of the sun . . .

She glanced behind her. The golden rays that sliced through the windows were lower than when she had arrived. She gulped and faced the counter again as people bustled around her. She needed to get what she had come for and return.

Squaring her thin shoulders and shaking her head the slightest bit so the French braid brushed her back, she approached the counter. She had to stand on her tiptoes to just rest her chin on the edge. Mountains of folders, envelopes, and books surrounded her face.

"Beg your pardon, wise friend," she said, "But I must ask if I have any mail."

The tall woman behind the counter with silver hair peered over the rims of her purple eyeglasses. In her wrinkled but spotless hands she held a thick envelope. Her lips pressed into a firm line, reminding the girl of her mother when she was not amused.

"And, pray to the heavens, why would you have any mail? Your parents surely receive your mail with yours," she said, every word bitten off at the end.

"My parents do not live here." Her voice was small, like a child's should be, some said.

The mail mistress rolled her eyes. "Then go to the keep in your town, learner." She waved her hand over the counter and the girl's head. The girl frowned.

"I do not live in a town or with my parents," she clarified. "You see, it has been a long time since I have seen them and-"

The woman leaned over the counter. The girl crouched away, though her hands were glued to the edge of the counter. She bit her lip hard to keep herself from shaking. The woman glared down at her, assessing. Then, her eyes widened. Her eyeglasses nearly fell off her nose as she straightened and disappeared from behind the counter.

Brow crinkling, the girl pulled herself up. The blood drained from her face. The woman was gesturing wildly in her direction to another woman and a man, both of whom stiffened and looked to the girl. The whites of their eyes shown like snow. Before the girl could begin to question why they were afraid of her, the second woman raced out a back door. The first woman grabbed a spear from a wall, bumping a stack of papers. White sheets fluttered to the floor. The girl's mother used to make paper angels for her and tie them to strings so they could fly.

The man sidled out of the counter's side door. He kept a wide berth from the brown-haired girl as he crept to a receiver. The girl's forest eyes darted from the woman standing guard with the spear and the man whispering from one mail receiver to the next. Heads whipped toward her, eyes were shot through with fear, and tapping of nervous feet echoed in her ears as the keep emptied. Shouts sailed from the street and through the open door.

"What's going on?" she asked. Her heart tripped and her unwashed skin prickled. When the woman did not answer, she stepped toward the door. The man filled the rectangle, another spear in his hand.

"You will remain where you are, wretch," he growled.

Sweat beaded on the girl's upper lip. She licked it away. She would be strong. "I don't understand. What did I do?" She would not cry. She would bite through her tongue if she had to.

"We know what you did," the man said.

A woodpecker seeking bugs in a tree's trunk would have been quieter than the knocking of the girl's knees. "I-I didn't mean to. I swear by the heavens. I don't know how I even did it. I swear." She held up her light brown hands, once smooth; now scarred and scratched.

"That is what all wretches say," the woman sneered. The girl's hand itched for the dagger tucked at her hip beneath her jacket as boots stamped up the keep's steps.

"Where is she?" a voice boomed.

"Momma," the girl whispered.

The man with the spear stepped aside and four men stomped into the keep. They loomed over the girl. The first soldier approached; the other three lifted crossbows and aimed at the girl's head from over their leader's shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" the leader demanded. His tone was so sharp it could have carved wood.

Trembling, mouth sticky, "I wanted to see if Momma or Dada had written me."

The soldiers' shoulders shook as they snickered. "Your mother and father have disowned you, little wretch. You do not have a mother or father anymore."

"That-that's not true." Her voice shook but her heart swelled with confidence. "Momma said she would always love me."

The soldiers' leader threw back his head and guffawed. "What a fool you are, little wretch." His eyes twinkled when they landed on her face again. "Nobody loves you anymore. You are a disgrace. Those who the creatures of the forests and waters have touched cannot be loved because they are cursed."

The girl shook her head, the braid scraping the back of her jacket. The lead soldier scowled. "Enough of this." He clamped a rough hand around the girl's arm. "You have no mail and you have neglected your duties." Though she fought and clawed, he drug her out of the keep.

Townsfolk with horrified curiosity etched in their faces gawked as the girl was escorted out of the town. The girl reached out to anyone close, begging for help, but none came. By the time the lead soldier and his companions-crossbows still loaded and pointed-threw her at the edge of the forest they dared not enter, she was all but limp. Yet, she did not cry. It made the hearts of the soldiers quake.

"Leave this place and never return here or any place of good people. You do not belong with decent folk, wretch," the lead soldier warned. He stood on the dirt road, the tips of his boots grazing the grass. He watched the girl push herself up wearily. The dirt on her face and the greasy locks of dark hair falling forward added to her pitiful state.

A twinge of remorse passed through him. "Go to your cottage," he said. "Remain there. You will be happier." He turned and began to walk away, his companions close behind.

Black and red swirled in front of the girl's eyes. Her clammy hands found the dagger and yanked it out from its hiding place. She jumped up and lunged toward the road.

"Sir!" A soldier cried. He had his aim trained on her.

The lead soldier spun just in time to see the girl slam to a halt right on the border of the town, dagger raised and face grossly altered. Her eyes gleamed with encroaching madness.

"Do not shoot," he ordered. All three of his companions glanced at him. He jerked his head at the snarling girl with the green fortress behind her. "She does not have any power beyond the forest. Just as we have no power beyond the town."

"Nobody has power in such places as forests," one of the soldiers said. His eyes darted from tree to tree.

"I do!" The girl cried. A fire burned in her belly. "I have power in the forests, even where the light never shines and the heavens cannot be seen."

"Because you are cursed," the lead soldier said flatly.

She spat onto the road. Her eyes blazed emerald flames. "And now, so are you."

Culture vocab:

-Learner: term used for youth when addressed by an elder. Used to clarify that as a youth, they are still learning about the world.

-Wise friend: term used for adults by children who are unrelated. Used to give respect to people with life experience.

-Letter keep: post office

P.S. Please comment. I love comments! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!