The Fowler's Daughter

Ch 4: Owl

Alouette POV:

I frowned at the small looking glass over the water basin, yanking my hair back and roughly twisting it into a chaotic updo.

We are supposed to look nice for The Lord of the Trees, so I tamed my unruly hair.

Sort of.

The stray waves and curls still escaped around my face as I took the few powders i owned smudging them over my eyes and lips aggressively.

I detested making myself pretty on behalf of another, if I wished to line my eyes in charcoal I would when I desired.

But it is insisted upon so we do not offend the lord of the trees that we heavily line our eyes and dust shimmering powders of finely ground shells and plants over our features. Redden our lips with pastes dyed with berries.

Huffing a bit I reflected upon myself, my impossibly large eyes even wider on my pale face, their murky green staring back at me.

The sharp bow of my lips was made even more so by the rouge. "Father." I called through the small house?

"Yes Alouette?"

"When this is over before the festivities. May I return here and wipe this terrible color off my lips? It is atrocious and everything I eat tastes like it.

His chuckle rumbled through the hall, "of course Alouette after the most powerful being anywhere near Lasireen leaves with his chosen you can wipe of your rouge."

"Wonderful, I would hate not to taste the decadent supper at the feast." I paused, "Father you did not eat any of the berry cakes did you? Those are our contribution this year."

He was quite for a moment as I walked into the main room, spying him with a berry cake in his hand.

I sighed in exasperation, "father..."

He laughed a bit, "it was just the one, no more I promise I will bring them to the feast table while you stand in the square."

I nodded happy enough with that as I contemplated the past few days.

We managed to sell some feathers to the towns women that were making dresses for their daughters so money was less worrisome even if only slightly.

The two days in preparation has had the entire town on its toes. Everyone cleaning, decorating, working. Less for the feast and more for the wizard.

If the town isn't pretty perhaps he will stop protecting us.

After all he picked only the prettiest girls. So he must like pretty.

At least that's how the rumors go.

I am just glad the streets around the pub smell like like drunkard than usual.

my father hesitated as I made my way to the door, "did you pack Alouette?.. just in case?"

I paused in the doorway, truthfully I had not pack any of my possessions.

"Everything I need is ready."

He nodded, looking anxious, "good luck Alouette. I love you."

I smiled softly at him as I started out the door, "and I you father. I will see you at the feast."

~~
The girl to my right sniffed in indignation whispering to the girl on her right, "I cannot believe they are letting owl  be a candidate."

I just glanced at her glimmering red hair from the corner of my eye, soured by the look on her face.

even trembling with fear she needs to dig at others.

well, the girls are supposed to be pretty. no one ever said they were very nice.

I bit my lip to keep my small smile at bay.

The other girl, a pretty blonde with honey eyes and rosey lips sneered a bit, "it is just a waste of everyones time trying to pretty her up and put her in fineries. there is no chance she will be chosen. we might offend The Lord of the Trees just by having her near him."

They were angry i knew, that I really didn't have to worry about leaving my father behind. Everyone knew the wizard, The Lord of the Trees, always picked the prettiest girl in town with the best smile. Many thought they became his wives, and after he tired of them because she was less pretty he came back and picked another.

Personally I think if his wife loses her beauty in five years he is doing something impossibly wrong. or lacking in aspects.

My bet was on the latter.

"at least her father had the sense not to buy her something worth even a silver. Look at that color Mara."

okay. I was a little angered by that.

This is my best dress, my adoptive father spent far too much of his wares to purchase it for me. we did not get to go into outside towns often. and it is difficult to be a fowler in a town with cursed woods. we can't afford the protection spells more than twice a year to sell our messenger birds to outsiders but they are prized birds to obtain.

...it has simply been a difficult year not as many good catches.

Next season I will catch a beautiful dove and raise it to be a messenger fit for a princess. or perhaps some smaller song birds, it takes time to teach them but if you do, they go for a very high price. I will pay my father back for this pointless dress.

the two girls giggled away at my expense finding comfort in it.

let them.

Personally I like to thing he makes the pretty girls into stew and eats them up to stay young.

They do say he never ages.

although that too is but a rumor, only the candidates are allowed in the square on the day one is taken.

For all we really know he can be a different man every time and it is so rare a girl is in the pool twice. they simply become too old to be selected within five years unless they were borne to a very unlucky year.

At the moment though, I do hope he eats them.

It wold be much more exciting than the other possibilities.

the red haired girl looked at me, "Owl. why are you here?"

Owl. my nickname because of how my name sounds. pity they know nothing of birds.

I barely spared him a glance, "it is the law."

"you will not be chosen."

I smiled, "I know, but you are so very pretty Paulette perhaps you will."

He jaw dropped open.

I rarely speak back to the girls and when I do never more than a few words.

it snapped shut and she turned an odd shade of red-purple. "horrid bird woman."

Saying nothing more I gazed at the rising sun.

he selects his new woman between first light and when the sun is at its highest.

Then the village feasts in a macabre sort of celebration for another 5 years of safety. the chosen girls family finds a sack of coins worth far beyond her dowery in their home. And they too celebrate, normally with tears in their eyes they refuse to shed.

I wonder if there will be sugar glazed goose at the celebration.

Hopefully, it is my favorite meal.