The Tale Teller

Ch 2

Nestled in the woods between Windharbour and the East Watchtower was a cottage, that in truth was little more than a shack. The cottage, with its timber walls, and one room space, reminded Vaun of a shepherd's shack, but more homely.

For as long as he could remember, flowers had stood outside at either side of the door, and seashells sat upon the window sill. The earth around the cottage had always overflowed with dark green cabbages the width of a man's chest, and carrots with curly tops. Apple and pear trees acted as a boundary for the garden, and come autumn, their branches would be laden with the most delicious of fruits.

The lady who lived there, Maiden Woods, had pride in her vegetable garden. It was unexpected for Vaun to glance around now and see the earth so bare, the dead crops withered like frail, rain-soaked travellers within it. He knew Maiden Woods would have done everything to save them, and if she had failed, then what hope lay for the rest of the country?

On the journey between the watchtower and Maiden Wood's home, Vaun had seen the first sign of hunger upon the main road.

He had heard of poor harvests, first in Caveholde, and Fairpass, and then in Windharbour. Every hamlet between the main landmarks told the same story. The rain had washed the earth into a swamp, and the lack of sun had failed to dry it. The wheat, the oats; they had drowned in the fields, and there was nothing the people could do to save them.

People were gathering what little they could for winter, stocking up on what was left of the previous year's grain. They were storing fish and meats, and preserving what few vegetables had been saved throughout the equally damp summer.

Vaun had witnessed the shortages through the empty fields and the rather small cartloads of supplies. He had heard the tales though, and today, he had seen the truth with his own eyes.

A young woman had walked the road barefoot, a small boy by her skirts, and a baby at her breast. She had been as thin as the twilight air, when day and night met in a clash as crisp as the frost beneath one's boots. Her cheeks and eyes were sunken, her face grey with dirt. Watchful eyes had seen Vaun pass with an empty stare. 

He had given her his last roll of bread, and an apple for the boy. He had nothing more to give, and with how slowly she moved, he knew deep down that his charity would make little difference.

It had been a painful sight to see, but it was the reality he knew was beginning to sweep the land. Before winter was out, many more women would walk like her, and many more would never see the changing of seasons ever again.

The door to Maiden Wood's home opened with a low slow creak. Vaun turned from the wilted cabbages to face the woman as she peaked around the wood. She must have caught him taking in the sorry state of her garden, for she shook her head with a sad smile.

"It's good to see you, Fa. I'm afraid you won't be leaving me with a basket of vegetables today though." Her home was a frequent one Vaun would visit in these parts, and she had never let him leave without a selection of food. No matter how low his own provisions were becoming, he knew today would be different.

"I'm not here for your vegetables." She needed all she had for herself.

She gave a light chuckle, the lines around her eyes deepening with the motion. "Good, for I have very little of them."

The door opened wide, and Vaun was silently invited inside. He ducked to avoid bumping his head on the door frame, eyes shooting straight to the roaring fire that spread its warmth throughout the room until it felt like he was stood inside of its flames.

He looked to the floor in front of it, remembering the last time he was here, and the litter of fox cubs that had scurried across it. Maiden Woods had found them in the woods behind her home, with their poor mother lay dead beside them. She had taken the cubs inside to care for them until strong enough to return to the outdoors. Vaun hadn't been able to resist picking one up into his arms, quickly placing it down again for fear of dropping it, as it tickled his chin and ears with its playful nips.