The Strayed by Meike Woermann

Author:Meike Woermann [Woermann, Meike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

They'd lit a hearth and had had some breakfast, after which he had gone to bed, giving her a stern look before closing the barn door, but leaving it unlocked.

She supposed, now that she had another way to leave, locking it didn't accomplish anything.

Apparently, there would be no work today. A 'holiday', he had called it.

She was lying in the dry grass, blanket wrapped tightly around herself, hand on her heart, on top of the locket. She couldn't sleep. Her mind was racing in all directions, remembering the music and the dancing, the laughter and the carefree nature these people had displayed. What made them so different from the Miners? A night like this added so much life. What she would give for Yanni to experience this. For her brother to have gotten the chance to let go of responsibility and to simply laugh and dance with people he loved.

She wrapped her fingers around her locket, embracing the dust inside, embracing the person she was and finding strength in what she had endured.

An idea popped to the surface and she got to her feet, finding the little box in which Erinol had collected the dust that was now in her locket. Quite a bit remained. After straining her ears for a long moment, making sure that no one was nearby, she found the pocket within the folds of her dress and pulled out a handful of cloth, unwrapping the glass sliver from within.

A sunbeam caught an edge and rainbow colours reflected through it. She held her breath, turning it this way and that. Such wonders, this world had given her this night. Her heart was achingly happy, something she didn't deserve.

Pulling the locket out of her dress, she unlatched it and examined the inner space.

This could work.

She grabbed a long-handled spoon, then scooped up a little of the dust inside the locket and, careful not to let any fall to the table or the ground, added it to the remaining powder in the box. There was no way he would notice the difference.

Taking hold of the sliver, she carefully placed it on the dust still in her locket, two of the edges touching the rim, and pushed it down far enough that the dust came up around its sides and slowly buried it underneath, now no longer visible.

She closed the locket and carefully lifted it to eye level, making sure that no dust fell through any slits, that no light penetrated the locket, which might give off some rainbows, that the sliver didn't clank around the inside, making itself known. But the dust seemed to be pillowing it enough not to touch any sides and the depth of craftsmanship would never allow for any slits to be available.

Awe for its artistry moved through her. She had never seen anything with this sort of detail before.

She packed away both the box and the spoon, moved over to the hearth and placed that last piece of cloth from her old clothes into the flames of the hearth, watching it catch fire and slowly turn to ash.

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