The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 60

The docks have succumbed to winter's arrival. Work at this time of the year lessens, resulting in fewer coins and crop for Rivian. The ocean is too cold, too treacherous, and the fishermen don't wish to lose an arm and a leg to what awaits them past the shore. Sirens are fickle in the winter; they hate the bitter waters.

Ice coats the streets, sticking to windows and the outside of stone. Remnants of snow peek out from underneath awnings and porch steps, pushed up against the sides of the streets after being shoveled for the steady travel of carriages and merchant wagons. Gudgeon is quieter since the last time I saw it, and with freezing air hanging over, plenty of smoke rises into the sky. Grey plumes soar from chimneys, blanketing the sky above our small village in another dreary grey to match the heavy clouds.

My boots crunch over the frozen ground and I wrap my arms tighter around myself. A puff of breath clouds in front of my face, warning me for the faintest of a second.

Most residents hide away in their homes, huddled next to the fire. I hear the faint ticking of bells from the docks, the only fish crew brave enough to scale the waters in search of a minuscule haul. Fewer hours makes for less pay, and fewer fish cleaners are required during these long months. Ocanthio chooses those that can work the fastest, meaning Chaska and I are always braving the elements to clean frozen fish. If the skin wasn't tough to break through already, the early morning frost dares to challenge us further.

We receive two extra coins at the end of the week if we manage to make it the entire day. Chaska and I always do.

I don't bother turning down the street that leads towards the docks. More important matters draw me to the home I share with Rylan. We can't leave things the way they were after Claiming's Eve, I must explain to him why I did what I did for the celebration. He at least deserves to know the truth, and my body itches to finish the conversation Cloak interrupted. My husband had come close to offering me my freedom but stopped short.

If the claiming will take him that final step, leading us to part ways forever, the royals will have given me more than a lifetime of protection. The lack of marriage gives me the freedom to do as I please and getting out of Gudgeon is the first step in realizing there is an entire world out there—a capital I've seen and explored with the Panjandrum Corps. Gustus will help, I know he will.

No familiar faces greet me on my way through the village. Anyone that does show their face only steps outside their doors for a moment to shoo away the ravens crawling along their roofs. A young man scrapes ice off of his front step, and another boards up a glass window with a large crack in the bottom left pane. Standing in the doorway, a mother watches me warily, cradling her child in the crook of her arm. Winter is a dangerous time for the young ones of Gudgeon; they're better served to travel north to the nearest village in search of warmth and food. Gardens can only get the poor so far into the year. Fruits and vegetables mold away; left to be discarded to the pigs, and the winter isn't suitable for crops. But the poor cannot travel north without risking their lives and that of their families.

I wave in acknowledgment to the old man that used to be the village butcher but had to retire when a hog tore off three fingers from his left hand, then proceeded to stab him in the abdomen with a tusk. He lifts his two-fingered hand in a silent wave, smiling with no teeth beyond his thin lips.

Two fingers aren't ideal, but he gets along fine.

At the end of the street, past the old butcher's house and shoved in next to two abandoned residences, both with broken windows and doors tore off the hinges, I spot the dark glower of Rylan's cottage. The thatched roof is covered in a layer of straw over the tiles to prevent cold from seeping in through the cracks. He boarded up the front window, yet left the front door ajar. I frown.