The Ward of Nampara: A Poldark Fan Fiction (COMPLETE)

Chapter 1

    She remembered the bloodied knife dropping and hitting the floor before she bolted. She ran into the kitchen and he threw a crock at her. It missed and shattered on the floor. The girl ran on, the shards biting into her feet and leaving small red dots behind her. She could hear him; staggering, swearing. Her only escape was the door that led out to the barnyard and she took it; shoving the door open and not even turning around to see if he was following. She cut through the garden, far past the main house and ran through the wheat fields; her bloodied feet barely slowing her.
    It was only when the manor was out of sight that the girl finally slowed. She took the forest road to Truro, hiding among the trees and bushes in the early morning light. Finding a brook near a small village, she bathed her feet in the cool water.

The girl took off her mob cap and removed the ribbon, using it to tie her hair back. She tore her cap into strips; enough to bandage one foot. She did the same with her apron, bandaging her other foot and putting what was left of it in the pocket of her dress. The girl examined her arm; it hurt just to move it, but she wasn't sure if it was broken or not. Her neck was sore from his hands. She washed her face in the brook and headed back on the road.

It was market day in Truro and the streets were full. The girl could blend in with the melee of people coming and going in the port town. She saw elegantly dressed ladies and stalls of food. The girl tried not to think of her gnawing hunger.
Taking the road through the mining town of Illugan, the girl found an apple on the road; it must have fallen off a cart. Not believing her luck, she picked it up and bit into it; she had almost forgotten what it had tasted like. She ate the whole thing and put the core in her pocket; she didn't know when she might find food again. While she was on the road to St. Ann's she heard voices, and hid behind the wall. She saw a father and son walking on the road. The son looked to be not much older than her. She saw him smile, and she thought of her older brother who had left home not too many years ago. When the voices faded, she continued on her way.

The sound of the sea raised her spirits and she walked down to the edge of the surf. In her old life she had only been to the shore once. The girl unwrapped her feet and washed them in the salty water. They stung, but it felt good to relieve them from the long walk. Granny had always said the sea was the best thing for a person's pains. The girl washed her bandages and laid them on a rock to dry in the sun. She even pried a few limpets off the rocks to take the edge off her hunger. She dozed for a brief while in the sun, but got up when the sun moved; she didn't want to be travelling too far in the dark. She bandaged her feet back up and walked on the road.
It was when the moon was out that she saw the steeple of a church. She walked up to the doors and wanted to go in, but knew it was probably locked. She rested her back against the wall of the old stone building, gathering just a little strength. The girl saw the well that the parishioners used for their horses, and she ran to it. She hadn't had a drink all day. She lowered and raised the wooden bucket and drank straight out of it. Her thirst satisfied, she decided to keep travelling until she found a place to sleep. Had she cut through the cemetery, she would have seen the tiny grave of Julia Poldark, who died of the putrid throat as an infant.

The farm was a ways off the road, but it look like a good place to stay. The house was dark, and she didn't dare try and wake anyone.
    The stable looked dry and warm, and the girl went in. A black horse snorted softly at her approach, and she wondered if it would wake anyone. When nothing happened, she walked up to the horse, remembering her father's horse, Lady.
    "What a beauty you are." The girl crooned in a whisper. She gave the horse the core to the apple she had and patted its mane, and saw the hay pile. She climbed in, the sweet smell making her sneeze. She remembered sleeping in a hay pile when she was still young and smiled at the memory. The girl decided she would leave at dawn before the household was awake. But where would she go then? Her parent's house would surely be the first place they'd look. Was there anyone there now? What would happen if he found her? She shuddered at the thought, and teared up at what had happened in the early morning hours of that day. Shaking, whether from fear or the chill in the air from the sea, she covered up with the hay and fell asleep.