The wind roars through the barren trees, the cold as sharp as an executioner's ax. Though she cannot feel her fingers, Mother clutches her threadbare cloak tighter to her boney body. Sinking lower to the horse below her, she tries to leech warmth from the poor beast as his ice matted legs break through the thick fallen snow. Neither of them has much strength nor will left to continue, both merely relying on their primal instinct to stay alive. It has almost been a week past since Mother set out from home in her desperate search for a cure, after discovering her youngest son sick in bed with the Fever. Their small town of Bethel is caught between a morbid struggle of which will claim the most lives, the brutal winter or the Fever, both taking victims left and right. Those that are rich enough fare better in regards to staying warm but even having enough money to buy the herbs from the pharmacist doesn't guarantee a cure from the Fever; however, without them, death is as sure as the sun will set in the evening.
She tried fervently to acquire the herbs in town. Mother offered everything of value that she had—including her simple wedding ring, the only remaining token of her late husband—but the pharmacist refused. She offered her house, offered to work it off but he still refused her. After avoiding his lusty gaze for days while trying to come up with another alternative she resigned herself to the fact that she had no other option; willing to do whatever was necessary to save her youngest son, Mother swallowed her pride and offered her body. The pharmacist greedily accepted her trade; he consumed her and was neither kind nor gentle about it. But after their brief encounter, while Mother was shamefully righting her attire with shaking hands, the two were happened upon by his wife. Mother was hastily shoved out into the street and despite her payment she was given no medicine.
The past decade has been harsh on everyone but the poor even more so. The winter brings freezing temperatures, blizzards of snow and very little sunlight; the oncoming spring threatens to flood the world, while the summer burns so hot that it dries up all the water and kills the crops. Food is scarce and many nights Mother has gone without, to insure that her three sons have enough to eat. When they discovered her thinning waist they refused food unless they saw her eat it too. Having to make food for one stretch to feed four mouths has caused all of them an aching pain.
Her oldest son, Jacques, joined the militia; thankfully, he brought in enough money to feed them. Though they were not rolling in luxury they were able to eat enough to at least halt their pants from falling off. However since then, his demeanor has changed for the worse; he has become short and angry with his brothers for no reason and impatient with his Mother. From the beginning of his service, he has nearly doubled in strength and when his anger gets the better of him he is a frightening creature to be around. Though he is well past old enough to live on his own, he remains at home with his two brothers and Mother, since his income is almost their sole source of necessities.
Her middle son, Sevan, found a job as a clerk at the local general store. He gets paid next to nothing for the menial work. Sevan is more of an intellect than his brothers and though he tried to join the militia he didn't have the stomach for it. However every Friday night the general store owner has the habit of blowing off the accounting for a brandy with his friends. Sevan picks up the extra slack and his boss always rewards him for it. Some rewards are better than others, like the time when he got to bring home a half of a roast, but anything is better than nothing. With Sevan being in the main thoroughfare of town he has drawn the attention of many of the upper class ladies. On a daily basis they visit him so that they can flirt but Sevan has confessed to Mother that none of them catch his eye. He wants to find a woman who will be his match, his equal in intellect and wit and not simply marry one because she has money. Jacques tells him he is an idiot and that he should snatch up the richest one before they all starve to death but Mother tells him to follow his heart.
Her youngest son, Thomas, has not yet completed secondary school. He is fortunate enough to have both the brawn of Jacques with the affluence of Sevan. Some day he will become a force to be reckoned with but only if Mother can get his fever to break and the sickness to dissipate.
She can feel the cold sinking into her bones, her body beginning to give in to the eternal sleep that calls her. After the fiasco with the pharmacist, she set out for Waterford. It is a long ride, through the deep forests to the distant town on the river but it was her only choice if she were to get medicine for her son. Being on the water, it has a bustling trade industry so those that are willing to make the journey will find whatever they need at a modest price. It has been years since she has even heard of someone attempting the trip—herself having never been. It wasn't until she finally got to the location of the town that she began to wonder if it was just in fact a myth. There were a few skeletons of buildings remaining but for the most part anything resembling a town had long since disappeared, along with any living soul that had occupied it. Now, on her journey back, she is empty handed, broken hearted and worried that she will arrive home to only two remaining sons.
The snow beats down so hard on her face, she is forced to pull her hood completely shut; it hardly makes a difference, because she cannot see through the thick flurries and the growing darkness. She can feel the beast beneath her struggle, almost seeming to convey a sense of loss and hopelessness with each lift of his leg. Time passes slowly as the pair fight off death, clinging to the tiny bit of life left within them. Though she worries for Thomas, she worries more that she won't get the chance to see any of them again because she can feel life slipping through her fingers like water.
All of a sudden, the horse stops. There is no more wind, no more beating snow. The temperature is warmer, causing her body sudden pain from being defrosted. Her half frozen hands struggle to open her cloak. When she peers out to the view in front of her, she knows she must be dead.
The sun has set. In the distance she sees a dark, slightly dilapidated mansion. Its largeness is amplified by two towers on either side standing out against the night like horns on a demon. Between her and the house, is grass. Green grass. The horse below her thankfully munches away. Slowly, painfully, Mother dismounts. Looking behind her she sees a large iron entrance that breaks the continuous metal spiked fence circling further than she can see. On the other side of the entrance she sees snow, a fierce blowing blizzard, a contrast that she struggles to grasp—as if she is looking out of a window, yet she is not in a building. She looks up to the night sky faintly seeing the stars through the falling snow but as if she is in a large glass dome, at a certain point the snow turns into a warm summer drizzle.
Mother can feel the ominous, seemly dark magic surrounding her. Looking from the house to the snow beyond the gate again, she considers her choices. If she leaves she will most likely die in the blizzard. If she stays she will most likely die at the hand of whatever devil lives here. Grabbing the reins of her horse she turns to once more bear the snow when something catches her eye; a distance away, still within the ambient safety of the magical dome, grows a beautiful and luscious garden. Cautiously, she creeps towards it, peering over the low wooden fence. Rows and rows of perfect tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis, beans, peas and dozens of other plants she doesn't even recognize grow in neatly manicured lines like soldiers. In one patch close to her, she spots the most diverse collection of herbs that she has ever seen growing—the only thing close to the variety of it is the collection of dried ones in bottles in the pharmacy.
Despite the hardships and desperateness of being poor, Mother has never stolen a thing in her life. However now that she is presented with the only opportunity to save her youngest son from death, she swallows her morals and steps over the wooden fence. Cautiously looking around for anyone, she quickly picks the dozen or so herbs she knows she will need to cure his fever. Having the astonishing luck of finding all of the herbs fresh will undoubtedly insure his survival. Quickly, she gathers the last of the plants when she hears something behind her—a footstep. She turns just in time to see something descending upon her—when she lays eyes on her assailant she drops the herbs, her body colder than even death could make it. She screams, fearing for her very soul.
...
Jacques watches two women, Dana and Clare, from the shadows of the cobbler's porch. They laugh and giggle excitedly, thick expensive furs clutched tight around their delicate bodies. Dana stands almost a foot shorter than Clare, her thick torso is hard to distinguish from her bosom and with mousy brown hair and plain brown eyes, Clare's beauty washes her out easily. Clare, who is tall and slender, picks her way through the snow covered walkway like a doe. Though her hood covers her long blonde locks, tiny wisps peek out to frame her face, making her bright blue eyes appear like puddles of water in the sand. Jacques has had a fondness for her ever since he was little and though she was the apple of every boy's eye then, she is the apple of every man's eye now. From his pocket he produces a flask and takes a long swig to fuel his courage. He pulls his uniform coat straight, smoothing back his mousy brown hair before he trots across the snowy road to meet them.
"Hello Clare, Dana," he says, friendly. He normally isn't a sociable kind of person but the liquid courage in his veins is enough to allow him to pretend.
The girls jump; caught up in their own conversation they didn't see him until he spoke. "Oh, hello Jacques," Dana says somewhat mockingly. Clare offers a tight smile before they continue walking.
Falling into step next to them he uninvitingly joins them, "Say Clare, are you going to the Governor's party tonight?" She gives him a somewhat befuddled look out of the corner of her eye—before she can say anything he coughs awkwardly and continues, "I mean, I know you're going, since the Governor is your father and all—I guess, I was just wondering, if you are going
with
anyone to the party tonight?"
