Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The soil over Grandmother's grave was covered by a thin layer of sparkling frost. Within the hour, it would all be melted under the bright autumn sun. Pashmina perched in front of it, sharp strands of cold grass poking up between her bare toes.

Grandmother had only been dead for a few months, but there had been a couple of big storms on the island this past season, and the wooden grave marker was already scratched and worn. If it became illegible too quickly, Pa would pluck it out of the ground and scrawl the inscription back before sticking the marker right where it had been. Or if the whole thing was blown away within the year, he would take a new piece of good wood and do it up again. But once enough time had passed, once the grass covered the gravesite again and everybody in the village could remember whose grave it was, the marker would be replaced whenever it fell apart with one of the island's simple white stones, to keep the reminder that somebody's bones rested there.

Pashmina, however, was afraid the usual upkeep wouldn't happen at all, since it had recently been decided that her family was gearing up to move from their own small farm beneath the mountains on the island to the big vegetable farm that they had rights to on the mainland. Permanently.

And as she stared at her grandmother's grave, alone in the village graveyard on this autumn morning, it came to her how much she did not want to go.

“Pashmina!” By the sound of the voice, it was one of her older brothers. She lifted her head and saw that it was Terry, running up the path around the corner of Bethany Tailor's house. Lithe, with long taguel ears that reached his shoulders and new adolescent patches of hair that had started to grow on his arms and thighs, he was scarcely a year older than her eleven-and-a-half. “I thought I might find you here,” he said as he approached the graveyard. “You're comin' with me and Wule and Yarne to check over the house on the mainland today, aren't you?”

Pashmina nodded. Every day was an early day on a farm, and she had gotten ready before she came to the graveyard, brushing the fur on her neck and taming her thick violet hair as best as she could in a plait down her back. Her ears she always left loose, as she hated the feeling of having them done up.

Terry came to stand next to her as she crouched. He was as barefoot as she was. There was a moment of silence. “You miss her, don't you?”

Their grandmother, Pa's mother, had been a tall, no-nonsense woman who never let anything faze her. When Pa had come back from the war with a sharp taguel woman as his wife, Grandmother – as the family story went – had taken one look at her, said “Just as sure as you aren't fattenin' her up for a roast later,” and immediately turned back to cleaning up slop. Pa had been appalled, but Mother, despite her serious nature, had found it amusing, and had smiled in spite of herself.

To Pa, she was his own Ma. To some of Pashmina's siblings, she was simply Gram. But to Pashmina's mother, she had eventually been adopted as Grandmother, and so that was what Pashmina called her as well.

“I do,” said Pashmina.

Terry let out a long, thoughtful sigh. “Same here. It's crazy not havin' her up in the barn before the rest of us every morning.”

“I miss her voice,” said Pashmina softly.

“Always yellin' back and forth with Yarne, yeah?” Yarne's existence was another thing she had taken in stride. Don't try to lead me today on the goose-story about why yer so tall. I know yer as daft as my son when it needs to count, so I've never doubted you've got his blood in ya.

Pashmina clutched her knees to her chest.

“So,” said Terry after another few minutes, “I was told to come find you. But if you need me to go back and tell 'em ya need another few minutes, I can do that.”

“I don't need long. Just a couple.”

“All right. I'll wait for you by the bend.” He turned to go back down the path behind Bethany Tailor's house.

Her family would not need to ask where she was. For although she was in front of her grandmother's grave today, Pashmina's visits to the graveyard were not a new habit. Within arm's reach was the stone-topped grave of her twin sister Lacey, where beneath the frost, the grass grew as full as anywhere else.

There were ten of them in the warren, now that Grandmother was gone. There were Pa and Mother, and their eldest son Yarne. There were Wule and Terry, Wule the older twin, bigger and quieter than Terry all the way around. Then there was Pashmina, next in the ranking by herself. After her came her sisters Nette and Lacey – the second Lacey – seven years old and energetic. Finally, Jacq and Roy, the babies of the family, four years old and still growing quickly through sets of hand-me-downs.

“Now, it doesn't matter that you're not part of a pair,” Pa had told her once, “because ya got enough brains for two. You're a clever girl, Pashmina.”

The other person who wasn't part of a pair was her eldest brother, Yarne. Yarne was – due to the mysterious ways of the world – about as old as Pa and Mother, and as such, was more like a third parent than a sibling. It was Yarne who often cooked and cleaned and minded the youngest children while Pa and Mother and the rest of them tended to the farm. Pashmina had once asked Yarne if this was the life he would have chosen for himself, living on the island looking after all his siblings.

“Well, this is the life I chose for myself, ultimately,” he said. “Gotta make sure the rest of you are raised right. But on the whole, it's actually a lot of pressure off me to have the rest of you all runnin' around.”

Pashmina didn't really try to understand how Yarne had been born in the first place, assuming it was something that would someday be explained to her in the same manner that regular conception had been. She had the vague notion that Pa and Mother themselves had once been older, which seemed to explain it as well as anything. When Yarne talked about himself, he sometimes said things which didn't seem to make any kind of sense. But Pashmina knew from listening to people in the village that her brother, who hated loud noises and jumped if anybody walked up to him from behind, was also a little bit touched in the head from the war; and so she went out of her way to be patient with him even when the rest of her siblings chafed under his directions.

Today, Yarne was in charge of the crew that was going to go check over the buildings and fences on the big farm on the mainland – a job Pashmina had been enlisted for before she realized that she didn't want to move in the first place. As they waited by the village dock for old Kent Traveler to wake up and untie his sailboat, Yarne yelled at Wule and Terry to stop playing around.

“Be careful near the water!” he called to them. “Stop horsin' around so close to the dock. On second thought, one of you is gonna give the other a bruise. Stop horsin' around at all!”

Pashmina sat on a fence, holding the canvas cloth in which she had wrapped a carrot and an apple and a slice of barley bread for her dinner. Today the wind was looking favorable, so it would only take them a few hours to get to the port. There, they would eat a good lunch in the market before walking less than an hour down the path through the woods to get to the new farm. That would give them a solid few hours of daylight, a night's rest, and another few hours in the morning to take note of everything that needed to be redone or fixed before Kent Traveler came back to get them the next day at noon. Yarne would tell Pa and Mother what they had found, and they would all decide whether they should try to move in before the winter or if it would be better to wait until spring.

Leaving Pashmina, presumably, completely out of the equation.

“Hey,” she said. “Yarne?”

Still watching her other brothers, Yarne gave a loud sigh of exhaustion, then leaned against the fence beside her. “Yeah?”

“Have you been thinkin' at all about what if it's not a good idea for us to move to the big farm in the first place?”

Yarne tilted his head and scratched at his neck, where the fur that started on his chin disappeared down into the collar of his plain linen shirt. “What makes you say that? You know Mother and Pa and I spent a long time considerin' whether or not this was a good move. We're movin' now because we decided that it was.”

Pashmina shifted her weight so that the fence dug into a different part of her thighs. “I'm just scared.”

“Yeah?” said Yarne. “Scared of what part?”

“Scared of what happens if one of us dies on the mainland,” she said. “You know. Instead of in the village.” Where Pa's parents and his parents' parents and her own twin sister were buried.

There it was. She had said it aloud. Among all her family, she thought Mother would understand what she meant by this more than anyone else. But at the same time, Mother would tell her to be strong and not entertain such thoughts. So Yarne was the second best.

Yarne sighed again. “Aw, Pashmina,” he said. “Listen here. Mother and Pa think I'm crazy, but I've actually thought lots about things like that. And I've decided – the big farm is just about as safe as the village is, all right?” Yarne held up his hand and started counting off his fingers. “One, we're gonna be surrounded on most sides by mountains. Nobody's gonna get over them easily, and if they do, we'll see them from miles away. Two, there's a bridge over the river to Calladay, but that's through the forest – nobody's gonna find it if they aren't lookin' for it. The main thing that might worry me is that the path from the port is pretty open, but here's what I was thinkin' – we could get some trees moved there and shade it over as well, so that you're gonna have to to really know where to find us.” He crossed his arms and leaned further against the fence. “I know it's scary to move and all, but trust me – if there's any place in the country where we aren't gonna see anyone, save the farmhands in the fall, this is it.”

He didn't get it at all.

Pashmina prodded his own conclusions. “You're not afraid of what'll happen if somebody finds the bridge when they aren't supposed to, or...”

Her brother let out another sigh. “Well, I still kind of am,” he said. “But I've been tryin' to think more reasonably about things. So. Does that make you feel any better?”

“I wasn't askin' about if you think any of us are gonna die,” said Pashmina. “I mean, what about when one of us does die? What about in years and years when Pa and Mother get old?”

“They're gonna get old whether they're moved or not.”

“When they do, where are they gonna be buried?”

Yarne shrugged. “On the big farm, I guess. We'll start our own plot. Eventually.”

“So we're all just gonna be buried over there? Separate from the others?”

Yarne blinked at her. Then he winced. “Aw, sorry, I forgot. Look – I'm sure we're gonna come back to the village from time to time, all right? On holidays, we'll come over and see everybody. Better chance than us gettin' along with the people from the port. So you'll be able to visit them then.” He patted her head. “But all this isn't something to worry about now, okay? C'mon – wanna see if we can knock on Kent's door until he wakes up?”

When Kent Traveler finally woke up to take them over to the mainland, he enlisted Yarne's strength in minding the sails, which meant that Wule and Terry were free to spend the voyage throwing bits of bread at each other. Pashmina sat at the other end of the boat, watching how the water behind them split and then came back together in their wake.

She knew that the decision to move to the big farm had been more uncertain than Yarne had described. For one, the farm on the mainland was meant for crops, whereas they raised animals at their much smaller farm on the island. (Grandmother had once told her that it had been a pig farm, until Mother came along. Mother, who had no problem with trapping and fishing, seemed to think it abhorrent to raise pigs for the purpose of slaughter, and had acted so surly about it that Pa had given in and convinced his mother to convert the herd. Now they mostly raised sheep, and Pashmina had grown up knowing how to card and spin; but they also had a milk-cow and a lone left-behind sow who lived off their scraps.) So, although she thought that her parents and Yarne planned on keeping many of the animals, they would also have to learn to plant and harvest more than herbs – things that Grandmother may have known, but which were completely new to Pashmina and her siblings.

Despite not working it by their own hands, her family had had rights to the big farm for her entire life. It had been granted to them after the war by the Exalt himself, as a gift for her parents' and her brother's service. For the most part, they managed it from afar. Pa and Mother had standing arrangements with workers who lived around the town of Calladay to do the planting and the harvesting for them each year. Pa and Mother, or sometimes just Pa, would take trips to the mainland every few months to pay the workers and bring back produce for the family, and while there they would check on how the harvest was going, or determine if a new crop should be tried next season, or find buyers for the surplus produce in the nearby port town. Pashmina herself had only been to see it a couple of times.

She didn't know the noble who actually owned the land that held the big farm – maybe it was the Exalt directly – but she knew the knight who administered it for them. Stahl, another former soldier who was one of Pa's friends. Pashmina liked Stahl, who lived somewhere near the capital with his lady wife and had an easygoing air about him. Generally he showed up once or twice a year to meet with Pa and Mother and take his lord's cut of the yield; but one year when the harvest had been nearly ruined by a series of storms, and her family was struggling to get by on their funds for the winter, he had showed up in the village with an entire butchered cow. He had brought a few of them from a rancher to be butchered at the market in the port, but after it was killed the buyer had gotten into some argument over the price and backed out of buying – or so he said. Thus he brought it to the largest family he knew nearby, so that it wouldn't go to waste. Mother had put aside her distaste for the time being. There was enough beef soup for everybody in the village that evening, and cuts to pack in the snow and last her family the rest of the season.

Sometimes things were hard. That was the reality of life. But things never seemed to be too hard for Pashmina's family, as Grandmother had always been keen to remind them. They all had good sturdy clothing, linen for the summer and wool for the winter, and Pa seemed always able to get his tools repaired or buy a new pair of boots whenever he needed. 

Pashmina was grateful for the big farm and what it brought her family. But, she thought as she stepped off Kent Traveler's boat onto an unsteady dock at the big port, where she was nearly overwhelmed by the voices of men and foul smells that weren't part of the stench of a farm, she didn't understand why they had to live there.

The day before, Mother had given Pashmina and her twin brothers a few pieces of advice about visiting the port: don't dawdle, stay together in a group, and tell Yarne if you catch anybody looking at you funny for too long. These were tips on being a taguel in an unfamiliar place that they wouldn't get from Pa, and that the boys would probably assume were overblown if they came from Yarne, so it was up to Mother to tell them that she was serious. Now that they were in the port, Pashmina noticed how their brother led them through the stinking streets with a kind of single-minded focus. They stopped at a food stall where the owner and Yarne greeted each other familiarly, only to eat their lunch and head out as quickly as possible.

The journey through the woods was uneventful. Pashmina was startled as always at how suddenly the trees fell away once they made the last turn, revealing the stretch of land between these woods and the mountains that was all theirs. It wasn't like their little farm on the island, where the pens were laid out neatly between the house and the barn, fitting together with no extra space. Here, Pashmina could turn her head to see the tall house standing alone on one side, then look the other way to see the main barn, with a storehouse haphazardly stuck nearby. In between them were huge fields, recently harvested, and old fences in patterns that she didn't understand yet; then beyond them was more open grass, as far as she could see.

Their goal for the day was to take note of which things needed to be repaired or replaced before they could move in. But it soon became apparent that Yarne's recruiting of all three of them had been overkill. The farm was kept in relatively good shape by the men from Calladay who worked it each season. The buildings were standing, the plow was intact, and there was an arsenal of tools in the storehouse. Even the two-story farmhouse, which had been properly empty ever since the last family to work this land had moved out years ago, had been kept largely in repair – probably because it was used as shelter by some of the local workers, as evidenced by the jugs in the kitchen and a lumpy straw mattress pushed against the wall in the first floor den.

They noted how the stairs in the house were uneven, how some shingles had been blown off the storehouse, and how the rusted lock and one worm-eaten supporting beam in the barn would need to be replaced; but the only other significant problem was that several sections of fence around the east field had been blown over by the season's storms. And since they were here with four sets of arms, Yarne said they might as well do something about it.

“All right,” said Yarne, as he helped Pashmina balance their end of a section of fence, “easy does it.” At the other end, Wule and Terry tilted the fence upright so that the posts slid back in their holes. Wule gave it a knock to press the fence a bit deeper into the soft earth, and Pashmina did the same.

“We're gonna want to get this reinforced at some point, but this will work for now.” Yarne stepped back and wiped his hands. They were about halfway done, and Pashmina was panting. The fences were heavy, and though stronger than a human girl of her same size, she couldn't compare to her brothers. She leaned forward against the reoriented fence, chest heaving.

Yarne watched her for a minute. “Hey,” he said, “did you guys check that room at the back of the house?”

“What room?” asked Terry, while Wule shook his head.

“The one through the other door in the back. You can't get to it from the rest of the house. Pashmina and I didn't check it.” He turned to her. “Pashmina. The boys and I can finish up this fence on our own. Would you mind going to look over that room? Then we can huddle down before it gets dark.”

Pashmina thought that the house, which was still mostly unfurnished and large enough to make sounds echo strangely, was a bit unsettling. But she could tell that she was being offered an out. Eager to both take a rest and not disappoint her brother, she nodded, then scurried alone across the fields.

The house had new shadows in the late afternoon sun. Two dark windows sat above the brown door, looking like the eyes and mouth of a yawning face. The faded red shingles formed its hair. It looked, now that Pashmina was staring up at it on her own, like the type of place to be haunted.

Her brothers were far away now, the sound of their voices faint.

She paced around to the back of the house. Here there was only one arched window to gaze down at her, and an addition that stuck out from the rest of the house. Sitting next to the addition, just a short distance from the door, was a well.

Pashmina carefully pushed open the door and looked inside the addition. The floor was dirt. Inside there was nothing more than an old wooden shelf and a pile of stacked logs, cut the right size to be firewood. Now she could see that there was another little window on the other side, but since the sun was pointed away, it didn't yield much light.

Carefully, Pashmina walked around the perimeter of the room, looking for holes or mold. If this house were the setting of a ghost story, then this was the exact place where the owners would unearth a rotting body while investigating strange occurrences in their new home.

Pashmina finished her circuit. She stepped out of the addition, and stared at the fields past the well. The autumn air gave her a chill through her long-sleeved shirt. She wanted to run away, to get on somebody else's boat and go straight back to the village, back to her home.

But since she was here, she supposed she should inspect the well too. It was the type with a little roof above it. Pashmina looked into its depths, and saw a faint reflection somewhere below that might have been water. She turned the handle to lower the bucket, and before long, it hit the bottom with a splash.

Something occurred to Pashmina as she raised the bucket back up. It wasn't a very big well, and it was the only one she had seen on the property. In their inspections today, they hadn't found anything on the land that would prevent them from moving as soon as possible.

But Pashmina was scared. Scared of the house, and of the distance. Scared of leaving her sister beneath the ground, and scared of leaving the only home she had ever known.

She glanced around, and remembered the firewood in the addition. As quickly as she could, she darted back into the dim room and grabbed a log under each arm, dragging them out capably with the strength inherited from her mother. Pashmina set one of the logs on the stone rim of the well, where it teetered before she gave it the final push in. There was a series of woody thunks and clunks, but at the end, no splash.

She slowly looked down again into the well. Just as she had hoped, the log had wedged itself stuck between the stone walls.

Her brothers were across the field on the other side of the house. From this location, Pashmina couldn't hear them at all. She tilted the other log in also. To her acute disappointment, this one somehow knocked the other log free, and they both landed at the bottom with a loud splash. Pashmina drew upon her courage and went back into the room to get another set of logs, and then another. And after pushing in a few more, there was no more splashing.

Slowly, she lowered the bucket. It made a knocking sound about halfway down, wood against wood. She jiggled the rope to see if it would unstick itself somehow. It didn't.

Pashmina ran into the addition one final time and took out the rest of the logs, then stacked them in a little pile outside, so that if anybody ever looked down into the well, it would maybe look like a particularly bad storm had thrown the firewood in.

Nervous about her handiwork, but knowing that there was nothing more she could do, she ran back to the fence at the east field.

Her brothers had finished setting it back to rights. Wule was sitting in the grass next to an opening, leaning over like he had been particularly exerted by the work. Terry, who seemed to have more energy, sat on the fence with his smaller frame.

“Hey, Pashmina,” said Terry. “What'd you find?”

“Nothing,” said Pashmina. Then, in case somebody wondered why she had been gone so long: “I looked really hard.”

“You took a while,” said Yarne, who was using his foot to shove some mud back into place along one of the fenceposts. “I was gettin' worried.”

Pashmina swallowed. “It was dark inside,” she admitted. “And the house...is pretty spooky right now, to be honest.”

Yarne walked up to her and scooped her forward, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he drew her close to his side. “Even if that's the case, thanks for checkin' it out.”

Pashmina stood guiltily, staring at her brother's feet next to hers. “Um,” she started. “Yarne. If...we're already done here, do you think we could go back to the port to spend the night? Instead of having to sleep in the house?”

“All the way back?” said Yarne, looking down at her with surprise. “Well, I guess we probably have enough time before dark, but it would be cuttin' it close –”

Before he could give a verdict, Wule let out a moan from where he was slumped over in the grass. Terry hopped down from the fence and knelt next to him, asking what was wrong.

“I feel awful,” groaned Wule. “I think the food from the port messed with me.”

Terry fumbled around on Wule's belt for the waterskin he carried for the both of them. “Here,” he said, uncorking it as he offered it to Wule.

“Maybe walkin' back to the port isn't the best thing right now,” said Yarne as he detached himself from Pashmina. He hovered over Wule, leaning down to brush aside Wule's hair and place the hairless backs of his fingers against Wule's forehead. “Well, you don't have much of a fever, at least...”

“Wait,” said Pashmina. “If Wule isn't feelin' well, then shouldn't we get back to the port as soon as possible instead of tryin' to make him comfortable here?”

Yarne and Terry looked at her. Wule gave another drawn-out groan.

“If we need a doctor, I can go to the port while you two stay with him here,” said Yarne. “There's that mattress in the house. We have food, and water from the well –”

“No!” said Pashmina, a bit too suddenly. “I mean – if – if his stomach is upset, and he's not really used to the water from the mainland yet, then he'll just get worse. Maybe it would be better if we have a clean place in the port, and juice or ale –”

“Hey,” said Terry, nudging Wule. “What do you wanna do?”

Wule pushed aside the waterskin, then leaned over to the other side and retched. He stayed like that for a minute, breathing heavily. Eventually he shakily pushed himself up from the grass and stood, lurching towards the fence for support. Both Yarne and Terry dove in to grab one of his arms.

With a touch of indignation, Wule jostled his left arm free from Yarne's hold. “I can make it back to the port,” he said quietly. “But I'm not havin' anything from that stall again.”

“Are you sure?” asked Yarne. Wule nodded. “Do you at least want to ride on my back –”

“No,” said Wule, and he turned determinedly towards the path that led back through the woods. Terry followed him, picking up the waterskin and canvas cloth of food that Wule had left behind along the way.

Yarne let out a sigh. “If he throws up on the path...well. Guess it's better than him gettin' sick in the farmhouse.” He looked back towards Pashmina. “The house freaked you out that much, huh?”

For the first time in a long time, he sounded annoyed with her. “I just thought it would be better if we were at the port,” she said.

“Maybe you're right,” said Yarne. “It was me who brought you to that stall in the first place, so...maybe I shouldn't be callin' the shots anymore,” he said, self-lacerating. He shook his head and went off to follow the boys, leaving Pashmina to pick up her things from the end of the fence and trail behind.

They made it back to the port just before it became too dark to travel. There was one particular inn to the west of the docks that knew them and their kind, as Pa and Mother stayed there when they went to visit the mainland. Yarne ushered them through the streets as quickly as possible, and got them into one big room with four bunks, and ordered Wule to lay down and Terry to watch him while he went to ask the innkeeper for a towel and a pitcher and a weak ale to settle the stomach.

Wule kept moaning for a while, drifting in and out of sleep with a wet towel on his forehead, until at some hour late in the night he threw up in the chamber pot and lay back down with a final sigh of relief. It was after this that the rest of the room was finally able to settle in. Pashmina, who had spent most of the evening sitting helplessly aside while her other two brothers tended to Wule, settled down on the stiff rope bed above Yarne, huddling as best as she could under the thin blanket, and stared open-eyed towards where Terry was snoring directly across from her long after everybody else had fallen asleep.

The next morning, Wule was much recovered, and it was Pashmina who felt woozy and weak. Before they went to the docks to wait for Kent Traveler to come back and get them, Yarne took them back to the market. Avoiding all the stalls with cooked food, he brought them to a vegetable stand to get breakfast, and then, as if an apology for the ordeal they had all gone through, showed them to a booth selling sweetmeats and told them to pick out whatever they liked. While Terry tried to balance four different candies in the palm of his hand and Wule cautiously picked over the treats for something he was comfortable eating, Pashmina stood awkwardly in front of the stall, feeling Yarne's eyes on the back of her neck. 

She almost wanted to tell him that she had done something wrong and that there was no reason for him to go out of his way to be nice to her. Eventually she meandered forward to pick out the smallest thing that caught her eye: a single lolly bear, and a green one at that, since there wasn't her favorite purple flavor in the jar.

She soon sat by the docks, halfheartedly licking her green lollipop – bright green like inchworms or apples, not the rich dark green of the grass that grew over her village's graves – while Yarne went around talking to a few men who had good-sized skiffs, since they would need to charter a bigger boat than Kent Traveler's when they moved across the sea. If that day ever came. And then Kent showed up to take them back to the village, right on time in the middle of the day; and Pashmina sat at the front of the boat this time, watching anxiously until the shoreline of her home came back into view.

In Pashmina's house, there were no stiff rope beds or thin blankets. There were no beds, really, except for Pa and Mother's, and the old cushioned rocking chair where Grandmother used to sleep. The rest of them, even Yarne, huddled up where they could – in a corner, or under a shelf – wrapped in one or two of the huge soft warm quilts that had been in Pa's family for years before Pashmina was born. Sometimes Pashmina curled up next to her sisters; other times, she claimed the nook in the kitchen next to the stove all to herself, which was especially nice in the winter when the stove was still warm from dinner.

But even the best, warmest quilt in the house – the cream-and-blue one with pinwheels – couldn't help her the next night as she nestled in the nook in the kitchen, trying once more to get to sleep. She stared into the shadows of the den, watching the slant of moonlight that came through the window wobble as wind rustled the tree standing just outside.

She couldn't stop thinking about the dark-eyed house on the big farm, and she didn't feel any better about how she had thrown the logs down the well. It was still early enough that she considered walking down the hall with her quilt over her shoulders and squeezing in between her parents in their bed, as she used to when she was younger – but how would she explain herself if they asked why she couldn't sleep? Has something ill happened to you? Mother might say. No, not really; but something will happen if we all move to the big farm and leave our house behind. How could Pashmina say that?

Pashmina didn't know when her thoughts and fears stopped and sleep began, but she was very surprised the next morning when she woke up just before dawn as usual. So she stood and started on her chores, steeling herself to make use of this day as the dead could not.

A few weeks after the excursion to the mainland with her brothers, Pa said that he was planning on making another visit to the big farm in a few days' time, in order to get some builders from the port to work on the few big important repairs that should be done before they moved. Pashmina, anxious to see how the logs in the well had held up but also nervous about being present in the case that somebody noticed something, eventually decided that it was less suspicious if she volunteered to go also.

“Did Yarne tell you Noire was plannin' on meetin' us while we were up there?” said Pa. “I reckon he got the letter about it just this mornin'.”

Yarne had not yet said anything to Pashmina, but she breathed a sigh of relief at this news, since it gave her a very believable reason to want to go to the big farm. Noire was another one of Yarne and her parents' friends from the war, a gloomy woman whose voice often sounded like it was full of tears, though Pashmina had never actually seen her cry. Her family ran an orphanage just a little bit north of the big farm, so Noire made the day trip to visit Pashmina's family every so often. The last time she had visited, she had read Pashmina's fortune with the fortune-telling cards she carried around, and promised that she would teach Pashmina how to read them soon.

Though nobody said anything about it to his face, everybody had the idea that Noire was the woman Yarne was probably going to marry, if mainly because she was the only woman outside of the family that he kept up a correspondence with. On occasion, Yarne had mentioned that she had some kind of frightening side; but as far as Pashmina had seen, Noire was – like her brother – more likely to be startled by a strange noise or by somebody tapping her shoulder from behind than to scare anybody herself.

She wondered what Noire would think of the house on the big farm, and had a sudden image of Noire taking one look up at the black windows, saying that it was a cursed place, and declaring that she could never teach Pashmina how to read cards here.

When it came time to go to the mainland again, it was just Pa, Yarne, and her who sailed with Kent Traveler across the water in the early morning. Pa talked cheerfully to their captain about how their sheep were doing, and how Kent's daughter was doing, and all manner of other things; and he was free to go on at such length that Pashmina saw in Kent Traveler's lined face that he thoroughly regretted setting Yarne to be the one working at the sails again.

Once they made land, Pashmina followed her father and brother as they went around asking for carpenters in the area, and when they found their way to a workshop deep in the port it was Pa who did the talking. The men were all out working on another job, said the apprentice girl who was minding the workshop that day; but if they gave their name and directions to the farm she would send them there in the afternoon.

“Well, no use waitin' around here, not with a guest comin' along,” Pa said as they left. “We'll hope the men can find their way, yeah? I'll come back and yell at 'em if I have to.”

Shortly thereafter, they were all treading their way down the route through the forest, walking the thin road that eventually forked off to the path towards their farm, stepping around branches and pinecones tossed by another recent storm. As they made their way around the last bend, they saw through the clearing a horse, dark as night, grazing by one of the fences.

“Cripes, how long has she been here already?” said Yarne.

They found Noire in front of the house, looking up into its dark eyes. Yarne called out to her when they were still yards away. Deep in some kind of contemplation, she flinched a bit, but then turned and waved back.

“Hello, everybody,” she said as they caught up. She held the cloak around her shoulders tight against the slight autumn chill. It gave her the look of a frail bird sticking its head out of its shell. “I hope it's all right that I looked around a bit on my own.”

“That's all right,” said Yarne. “I'm just glad you found the right farm."

“Oh, it's the only farm for miles. I didn't have any doubt it was yours.”

“Nice to see you, Noire,” said Pa, grinning through his beard. He wasn't a very large man, but standing next to Noire, he still seemed twice her size. Yarne, of course, towered over them both. “What do ya think about the farm? It ain't too much, but it's sure a lot bigger than what we have on the island.”

“I think it's actually quite much,” said Noire. “It's bigger than what my family has by far. And the house is lovely.”

“Well, it's a bit empty right now,” said Yarne. “But we're going to get it cleaned up a little and move everything in. Then you should say it's lovely.”

“Hey,” said Pa, gesturing with his thumb. “I'm goin' to give this place a once-over, and look at the state of the things you said needed work.”

Yarne looked back at him over his shoulder. “Want me to go with you?”

“Naw, you've got a guest! You all just kick back for a while, hear me? Show Noire around before this place is filled up with the rest of the kids. Oh, but if you do go into the house, be mighty careful about the stairs.”

“Yeah, we noticed that too,” said Yarne. “Will you check the fence by the east field, and see if we have to reinforce it more? We set it back up, but I'm afraid it might've been knocked loose again by the storm.”

“Will do,” said Pa as he waved them off.

Pashmina watched him go with her heart full of fear. What would he think when he saw the well? Would he even notice that something was wrong?

“Well,” said Yarne, putting his hands on his hips and turning to Noire, “what do you wanna do? We're gonna have carpenters over here in the afternoon, so if you want to explore, we should do it now.”

Noire looked curiously back up at the dark house. “Your father just said we could go in the house, right? It looks like such a nice large house...I wouldn't mind seeing it.”

“Then that's what we'll do.” Yarne boldly walked to the front door and pulled it open. It made a cracking, unsticking sound that proved nobody had been in there since they were at the big farm last. There he stood, holding the door open.

“Thank you,” said Noire as she stepped inside.

Pashmina turned around and looked out to the fields. All she saw were the green trees surrounding and the dying autumn grass. Pa must have veered course to look at the barn first, because she couldn't see his purple-haired head.

“You coming?” Yarne called to her.

“I – I guess so,” stuttered Pashmina. She scurried into the house after them.

It was light inside, as the morning sun shone through the windows that looked empty and dark from the outside. Just inside the front door was the kitchen, with a cast-iron stove and cupboards against the walls, though currently no table. Through a passage was another large room, empty except for the straw mattress and the set of stairs.

“This house will be so nice for your family,” remarked Noire as she wandered through the passageway. She stopped in front of the staircase and turned, looking at something behind the wall outside of Pashmina's view. “Look, there's another room back here.” She paused. “I wish my family had a place like this all to ourselves.”

“You just have to be the one to suggest it, don't you?” said Yarne. “Your dad really needs to have boundaries with the kids sometimes. Just a little bit. For you and Lailah's sake, if nothing else.” Lailah was Noire's younger sister.

“Well, you see, I don't think that would do much. Lailah doesn't seem to mind not having her own space.”

“But you mind,” Yarne continued. Pashmina stayed close to him as they further explored the house. There was indeed another room on the other side of the staircase, with a single small window in the back. Though the room she had found at the back of the house last time hadn't been connected by door to the main house, Pashmina could guess where it was, right next to this storage room.

“It's not that important to me,” Noire was saying. “Really.”

Pashmina looked out the small window, and there, as expected, was the well. She quickly stepped away.

“Then get your mother involved if you have to. You're not saying she puts up with the kids running amok in her workshop?”

They all trod carefully up the creaking stairs, staying close to the wall and keeping their weight off the banister. This careful maneuvering was hard for Pashmina, as stairs always made her uneasy in the first place. There wasn't a second floor in their home on the island.

“She doesn't,” said Noire. “They always learn quite quickly not to do that.”

Upstairs there were several more rooms, smaller than the ones below. In one of the rooms there had been left an old wooden bedframe, stained and lacking a mattress. In another, a single drawer, with the desk or wardrobe nowhere in sight. There was a tiny room with a chute leading to the outside that was probably meant to be a bathroom. And there was a room at the back of the house which held the grand arched window Pashmina had seen last time, completely empty except for dust and a curious little box in the corner.

“It could have gold,” said Noire. “Don't you want to open it?”

“It'll probably have a dead mouse inside, is what I think,” said Yarne.

“Then I'll open it,” Noire declared. She reached for the box, then seemingly changed her mind. “Pashmina?” she called. “Do you want to be the one to open the box?”

“Um – no thank you,” said Pashmina.

“'No thank you'?” Noire looked at her in surprise. “You...don't think it sounds fun?”

“Hey, she said it clearly,” said Yarne, stepping in between the two of them. “You open it, then, and don't blame me if it's something unpleasant.”

A grin came over Noire's face. Pashmina had never seen her this excited. She popped open the little box and practically thrust it into Yarne's face. “BEHOLD! A MOUSE!”

Yarne, unperturbed, crossed his arms as he peered into the box. “There's a dead bee inside it.”

“A what?” Noire lowered the box to look into it, then immediately squealed and dropped it to the floor in surprise. With a laugh, Yarne picked it up and fiddled with the latch on the window until he opened the glass and could dump the bee outside.

The three of them settled down on the dusty floor, in the patch warmed by sunlight from the arched window. It was the only window in the house that was glazed, and it had a rod above it to hang curtains rather than outside shutters. It would be a nice room to sit in on cold or windy days and look out over the farm through the glass.

Assuming they really did end up moving. Pashmina backed off from the thought, as though thinking nice things about the house might definitively conjure the move into existence.

“So, besides the bees, what do you think?” asked Yarne.

Noire gazed out the window. “I know you have a lot of work to do on a farm, but it must be nice to sit down at the end of a day and look out over the animals grazing.” She drew a knee to her chest. “Nothing at all like caring after children.”

“Well, we have plenty of those anyway. But this place has always been a plantation, not a livestock farm,” said Yarne. “We're going to end up keepin' some of the sheep and maybe a cow for ourselves, but as I understand it it's going to be mostly crops for us.”

“The fields out back here wouldn't be used for grazin' anyway,” said Pashmina softly. “The ground looks too good. You keep that kind of soil for plants.”

Noire turned to her as though she'd forgotten that Pashmina was there. “Oh...so you do! That shows you how much I know, I suppose.”

A door opened downstairs. Pa called up, his voice clear through the halls. “You all in here?”

“Yeah,” came Yarne's response.

“Yarne, ya mind comin' down? I have somethin' to show you.”

Yarne gave a sigh. “Coming.” He galumphed out of the room and down the stairs. In a moment, his and Pa's voices rose up clear again.

“Did you remember to check the well out back?”

“The well?” said Yarne. “Yeah, I think we did. Is there something wrong with it?”

“Looks like somethin' got down it.”

“What? Like an animal?”

“No, like some kinda debris...” Pa's voice faded as they left the house.

With a start, Pashmina crawled over to the grand arched window, which was still open from when Yarne had thrown out the moth. She carefully poked her head over the windowsill. A few seconds later, Pa and Yarne rounded the corner of the house and approached the well.

“Thinkin' it must be from the storm,” she heard Pa say. “You have better eyes than I do. What do ya think it is?”

Yarne churned the wheel and lowered the bucket. It made a low thunk as it hit the logs several feet down. “What the heck?”

“Hey...Pashmina,” said Noire. Pashmina nearly jumped in surprise. She turned back. Noire was looking at her with her kind, sad eyes. “Is everything all right?”

“Um...maybe not with the well,” said Pashmina.

Noire stood and joined her at the window. “Yarne and your father are looking at it. I'm sure it will be all right,” she said, in a practiced voice that sounded like it had soothed many a child. Pashmina suddenly felt like she was being condescended to. “Now...I did bring some divination cards with me today. While they're busy, would you like me to show you how to read them?”

Outside, Pa and Yarne were debating whether branches from the forest could have somehow been blown all the way across the farm and ended up in the well, or if it was something else. Pashmina desperately wanted to keep listening to the conversation. But she also desperately wanted Noire to teach her fortune telling, and she didn't want to raise any kind of suspicion.

She could try to do both at once. “That would be nice,” she said eventually, mustering up a nod.

To Pashmina's chagrin, the first thing Noire did was close the window and latch it. Noire then looked around the room and even glanced down the hall into some of the others, as though there might be chairs hidden in a corner. Since there was nothing, she returned to the room Pashmina was in and sat back down on the floor, sweeping the area in front of her clean with her sleeve.

With Noire's expectant gaze on her, Pashmina sullenly sat across from her and folded her legs. Now that the window was closed, Yarne and Pa's voices were muddled from where she was sitting, and even her good ears had trouble picking out the correct words.

Noire took a deck of cards out of her satchel. She untied the ribbon that held them together and started shuffling. Still trying to keep one ear outside, Pashmina watched her hands, mesmerized by the flurry of motion. “Let me do another reading for you,” said Noire. “This time I'll explain what I'm doing. Here, do you remember how we started?”

“Not really.”

She heard an exclamation from outside. Her brother must have noticed the stack of logs.

“The storm...fierce to knock 'em...there,” she managed to make out from what Pa was saying.

Yarne gave some kind of affirmation. “But...pretty heavy. I just don't know...be in the well...”

Noire finished shuffling and held the deck out to Pashmina. “First of all...since this is your reading, you should cut the deck.”

Pashmina did so, and Noire took it back with gentle hands. Then she set it squarely on the floor in front of her. “Next, before anything else, you need to pray. You need to pray very sincerely, so that Naga will bless the cards and use them to show you what you need.” She clasped her hands tightly before her chin. “My father taught me this. He told me that when you're doing divination specifically, you should consult the goddess so that evil spirits don't have a chance to sneak in and show you something incorrect.” Her hands slackened a little as she glanced to the side. “My mother never prays, which is why she gets upset with her readings more often than not.”

Yarne and Pa's voices had faded from the back of the house. Her heart pounding, Pashmina mimicked the way Noire clasped her hands, then followed when Noire closed her eyes. Not knowing how to pray very well, she thought about the noble dragon goddess who lived atop a mountain. Naga, please bless the cards for my reading. I would really appreciate it. Thank you.

She heard Pa's voice again from downstairs. “At least it seems like we missed the worst of it on the house.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Yarne. But he sounded distracted.

“Well, we'll just have to use the well by the north field for the time bein'. Bit of a hassle, but we'll survive. Ain't many people lucky enough to have a second well on their land.”

Pashmina dropped her praying hands and opened her eyes. A second well? She hadn't known there was a second well.

Now Noire's eyes flew open as well. She glared at Pashmina with a terrifying look unlike anything Pashmina had ever seen in her before. “DO NOT IGNORE MY WORDS! YOU MUST PRAY INTENTLY, CHILD!”

Pashmina yelped. She clasped her hands again and doubled over, elbows touching the floor. “I'm praying! I'm praying!”

“Good,” said Noire, returned to normal. “Just a little more.”

Pashmina tried to still her thoughts. There was a second well, which meant that the first one being clogged up didn't change any of the plans about them moving. Her scheme had completely failed. Maybe this sort of thing was Naga's doing, too.

“All right,” said Noire as Yarne clambered back up the stairs. “Now, did anything in particular occur to you while you were praying? Is there maybe a specific question your mind wants to ask?”

“Um,” said Pashmina. She was aware of Yarne watching them from the door. “Is the big farm...goin' to be okay for us? That's what I want to ask.”

“That's a good question,” said Noire. She smoothly drew three cards from the deck and laid them out between herself and Pashmina.

“Hey, Pashmina,” said Yarne. “Not to interrupt, but didn't I send you to look behind the house last time we were here?”

“Yarne, we're doing a reading.” Noire's voice wasn't as scary as it had been a moment before, but she did sound irritated.

“I know! I'll let you get right back to it. It's just that this is important.” He looked expectantly at Pashmina.

Her heart was frozen. The entire room had gone incredibly silent. “You asked me to go look at the room at the back of the house,” she said finally. “Not the whole back of the house.”

Yarne crossed his arms. “Well, did you happen to notice anything about the well while you were there?”

“No! I didn't notice anything about the well.” Then she had a stroke of inspiration. “Actually – there was something. Some of the logs outside were stacked up on the rim of the well. I don't know who put them there.”

Yarne gave a heavy sigh, covering his eyes. “For the love of – well, that would explain it.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “Okay, sorry to bother you. I'll let you have your reading now.” And he left.

“If you wanted to stay and watch silently, that would be fine too,” Noire said after him, but Yarne waved her off. She shrugged. “Now, listen closely,” she said, drawing Pashmina's attention back to the cards spread between them. “This is a very simple spread. Here, the card on the left represents what currently concerns you about your query.” She flipped the card to her left, Pashmina's right. “This one, the immediate future.” She flipped the one in the middle. “And the long-term resolution.” Now the one to Pashmina's left. “Let's see, what do we have? The Acolyte, the two of flowers, and the eight of spears.”

Noire's fortune telling deck mostly looked like a regular deck of cards inked in yellow and green, except for the illustrated cards representing different figures. This first card, the Acolyte, was a youth in robes holding a bright book aloft. Noire had once told her that these figure-cards were important, and that you needed to pay extra attention to them when they showed up. “So what does it mean?” asked Pashmina.

“Well, that's what I'm asking you,” Noire said gently. “I've told you what the positions represent. You've seen me do a few readings before, so you should have an idea of what the different suits represent. And the face cards describe themselves.” She nodded a little bit, almost to herself. “So, just look at it. What do you feel like it means? What impression does each card give you?”

“Does it matter that the face card is upside down?”

“No. Don't worry about that for now.” When Pashmina did not answer quickly, Noire pointed to the first card she had flipped. “Do you know what an acolyte is?”

“It's somebody who's trainin' to be a priest or a priestess.” Bethany Tailor's son had just left the village to be an acolyte.

“It can describe somebody who's in devoted training to be almost anything. Like a warrior, or a judge. In the context of reading cards...it usually indicates a period of hard but rewarding work.”

“I see.” Now, something like that was the sort of thing Noire was supposed to be teaching her. She looked at the cards, and thought hard about what, if anything, they impressed on her. “Well...the Acolyte card means me right now, I suppose. It seems like it could mean me readin' cards right now, too. But since I asked about the farm, I guess it means that the farm is goin' to be a lot of work at first.” Her eyes drifted to the next. “Then...the two of flowers...it's a low number, so it means...beginnings?”

“A beginning – perhaps. Or a dichotomy, a choice.”

“Um. Okay. Then in the short term, it's like...we'll have to decide how we want to run it," she guessed. "Whether it's the best thing for us to be over here farmin' vegetables, or if we want to go back and raise more animals somewhere, maybe. But the flowers mean that it should be promisin' either way...I think.” Or it could mean that any successes were as short-lived as tulips in the spring. But she wasn't sure if Noire would want to hear that. “And then...the last one...” The arrangement of pips on the card reminded her of spears marching in formation to some heroic battle. A fight for their lives. She struggled to come up with a more optimistic interpretation. “We'll get everything in line eventually, and we'll be able to move forward with the farmin', like soldiers after their trainin'.” She swallowed. “That's...what I think they say to me.”

She wondered if Noire could tell that she was only saying something good and keeping the secret meaning of the cards to herself. But Noire was nodding. “That was good! That was a very good first reading. And I think, even with the hardship, that what it predicts is something to look forward to.” She gathered the three cards and shuffled them back into the deck. “Now – do you maybe want to do a reading for me?”

Pashmina stumbled over a reading for Noire with more grace than she had the reading for herself. Noire encouraged her to think of each card in the context of the previous, and say whatever came to her mind first before elaborating on whatever path her mind took. It was easier to be honest about cards that were drawn for somebody else. Then Noire shuffled through the deck and gave Pashmina a refresher on what the different suits signified, as well as giving her a few words on what each of the figure-cards meant.

Pashmina asked specifically about the Death card, which bore a set of weathered dragon bones beset by crows.

“It means passing, a change,” said Noire. “It's not usually about an actual death. It looks scary, but it's not that bad. Really.”

They had been at it for some time when Pa yelled up from the ground floor that the pair of carpenters was here and they had already been working on the west barn for a while, but before too long they would be coming into the house to reinforce the stairs, so Noire and Pashmina best think about moving out. Noire gathered the cards neatly into the deck, tied it back up with the ribbon, and presented it to Pashmina.

“This is a spare deck I have,” said Noire. “I meant for you to have it, so you can practice with yourself and your family. Remember that sometimes, your gut instinct on what a card means is the most important. When you've gotten a little more comfortable, I'll show you some more layouts.”

Pashmina bowed a little bit from where she was sitting on the floor. “Thank you,” she said, honestly.

“You're quite welcome,” said Noire, with a small, gentle smile. “Now...I'm probably going to head back pretty soon, since my parents expect me back before nightfall. I didn't tell them that I meant to stay anywhere, you see.” She stood. “But first, I'm going to find Yarne and see what he's doing for a while. If I don't see you again before I leave, it was very nice reading cards with you, Pashmina.”

Pashmina was not keen on following her brother and Noire around for whatever kind of courting took place between them. “All right. Thank you again for teachin' me how to read them.”

Noire took her somber self back downstairs, and Pashmina remained in the room with the grand window. Maybe her second thoughts on the reading she did for herself were correct. The house wasn't too bad from the inside, she thought, with the sunlight streaming through the window in the middle of the day. She got up and peeked inside the other rooms upstairs again, then wandered back downstairs to the kitchen area. She entertained the idea of choosing which corner might be the nicest to bundle up in for the night.

If she went outside, Pa might ask her to do something while the carpenters worked, so she would stay inside for a little bit longer. She sat down on the straw mattress and untied the cards Noire had given to her.

She would do another reading, just for herself. She asked again, very sincerely, what would happen should her family move. As she clasped her hands to pray like Noire had directed, she thought this time of her ancestors, of Grandmother and all the taguel, and of her twin sister as well.

The first card she laid out was the ten of flowers. She carefully counted the pips without Noire here to interpret the numeral for her. The second was the ace of leaves. The third was a face card – Night, she remembered, a gray-green sky where the top edge of the yellow moon could just barely be seen over a large cloud.

Pashmina stared at the cards before her. The pips on the flower card were upside-down, and this made her think of petals falling, of end and decay. But the card that really made her uneasy was the Night. When she looked at the painted moon, she could only think about the taguel stories her mother had told her about how the moon watched over their kind and received their souls so that they could rest after death. But in this card, in the final spot of the spread, the moon was almost completely obscured.

A deep dread brewed within her. Her instincts on the first reading she had done for herself hadn't been a fluke. Now this reading was outright yelling at her what she had known all along – that if they moved away from the place where the rest of their family had lived and died and was buried, they would be tearing themselves away from the place where fate and the universe meant for their bones to rest. Their souls would never make it to the moon, and Pashmina would never see her Lacey again.

It was a mistake. The whole move would be a mistake. How could her parents, her mother at least, not realize this?

Pashmina picked up the cards and held them to her chest. As though in a daze, she wandered outside. There across the field was Pa kneeling in the grass with a mallet, working on securing the fence that her brothers had set back up.

He noticed her before she raised her voice. “Hey there, Pashmina,” he said. “I was startin' to think I'd have to go runnin' in there to fetch you myself.”

Judging that this post was settled deeply in the dirt enough, he got up and moved to the next one down.

“Pa,” said Pashmina.

Pa looked up, beaming at her, his face only slightly sweaty from the exertion. “Yeah?”

We can't move. I'm sorry. You have to call the whole thing off.

She fidgeted with the cards in her hands. “Are the men done workin' on the barn?”

“Well, I told them to come back to the house when they were, so no,” said Pa. “But I reckon they will be before long.” He noticed the deck of cards in her hands. “Did Noire leave ya with that?” Pashmina nodded. “Aw, that was nice of her. She might still be around here, you know, walkin' with Yarne someplace.”

“She said she would be. We already said goodbye.”

“We'll have to invite her for dinner once we're actually moved. That's somethin' to look forward to, isn't it?” Pa was now talking to himself. “Not as though we couldn't have her today, but she's caught up about gettin' back before too long, isn't she? Her ma's quite a tough woman about that. Even though Noire's entirely a woman herself...”

“Pa?” Pashmina's voice came out small. “When are we goin' to leave?”

Pa looked up. “The village?” The portion of fence he was holding in place started to wobble. With a sigh and a grunt, Pa looked down to hold it back in place.

“No. This farm.”

Abandoning the fence for a moment, Pa approached Pashmina, and playfully poked a finger at her forehead. “It sounds like you need somethin' to do. Why don't ya run around to the barn and see if you can fetch anythin' for the men over there?”

Pashmina stared at her feet.

“Or if not that, then go and find your brother and –”

“I'll go to the barn,” said Pashmina. “And help the men with anything they need.” Or, on the contrary, find out if she could engineer something that would look like a mistake.

Pa wiped his brow. “Pashmina, did somethin' happen between you and Noire?”

“No,” she said firmly, as she stuffed the deck of cards into her satchel.

Pa looked mystified. “Are you sure nothin' happened –”

“I'm sure,” said Pashmina quickly. “So – um – I'll be goin' to the barn now.” She stomped away and, in case Pa saw fit to try to follow her, got on all fours and ran.

Taguel were fast. If Pa had wanted to catch up with her, there was no way he could keep pace. She sprinted across the farm as fast as her limbs could take her. Soon she came to the barn, which stood on its lonesome some distance from the house. Standing up and wiping her hands on her shirt, she looked around the corners for either of the workers, but saw nobody.

She approached the door. “Hello?”

The new bolt on the front of the door gleamed brightly in the sun, untouched by rust. Inside, it was a regular, musty old barn, with aged gray wood and sweet-smelling hay shavings strewn about. One of the beams holding up the loft was a fresh creamy color, also brand new.

Pashmina stomped over to the new beam and kicked it. It didn't budge. The carpenters had done a good job. Full of frustration, she let out a low, guttural scream. There weren't even any tools left lying around for her to take to the walls of the barn herself.

Would she really purposefully destroy this barn that her parents owned?

Yes, she thought, thinking back to her reading. Circumstances were dire.

She kicked at the beam again.

“Stupid...stupid carpenters! Doing the repairs!” She looked around for something else to vent her frustration on, and remembered that the door was open. Pashmina slammed the door closed, then kicked it also for good measure, hearing the new bolt on the other side rattle. Maybe it had fallen off. Who cared? Her family probably wouldn't, not at the rate they were going forward with the move.

She banged her fists on the wall. “Stupid barn! Stupid farm!” Then she grabbed at whatever hay she could find in the dim interior and threw it, just because. Stupid family who don't realize or care that we're all gonna die in the wrong place!

Eventually Pashmina wore herself out. She sat down on the dusty floor, knees curled to her chest. We're all gonna die in the wrong place.

The darkness in the corners of the barn suddenly felt like a yawning void. Pashmina clambered to her feet. She needed to get out into the sunlight before she could think more. Finding her way by the thin light that came in through slits between boards, she went to let herself out.

The barn door didn't open. She grabbed the handle and shook it, to no avail. With a cry, she hurled her shoulder against the door, and still it did not open.

The bolt on the other side must have slid shut when she slammed the door. The stupid carpenters had to have put it on at an angle. She tried to snake her hand through the slim crack of the door to grab at the bolt with two outstretched fingers and slide it back, but she couldn't reach, and felt splinters scratching at her flesh.

Pashmina pounded on the door with her fists. “Pa?” she cried. “Yarne! Somebody!”

Seconds passed, and there was no answer. She sank to her knees. They could be anywhere on the farm. Pa wouldn't be able to hear her if he was near the fence or the house. Yarne might from that distance – but who knew how far he had gone off with Noire?

She couldn't stand the idea of rotting in the barn for however long it took them to find her. But they wouldn't go back to the mainland without you. They wouldn't just forget.

Right?

She remembered the time, when Roy and Jacq were babies, that they had all gone to visit the miller's family who lived on the other side of the village, and had accidentally left Nette there overnight.

Shakily, she got back to her feet. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back into the middle of the barn. With a determination to see sunlight again, she focused on her body, nudging out the other form she held within.

Her form grew, and her fur spread, until the patch on her neck extended all the way to the tips of her toes. Her legs became thicker and stronger. It now felt more natural to stand on all fours, and as she hunched over, her face jutted out and drew to a point.

The shadows of the barn were shallower now that she was in her rabbit form, but the smell of stale wood was even more overpowering. Pashmina turned around and backed up towards the barn door; then, with every ounce of her strength, gave it a solid, two-legged kick.

There was a loud, ugly splintering sound. As Pashmina drew her legs back, one scraped over a jagged edge of broken wood. Sunlight filled the barn, casting the shadow of her hulking frame before her. Free at last. She exhaled.

“Pashmina?” came Pa's voice. “Is that you?”

Pashmina turned. He stood a couple feet in front of the barn, looking warily at her through the damage. Slowly, guiltily, Pashmina melted back into her human form. “I can explain.”

“What were you doin' in there like that?” asked Pa, his eyes bewildered.

“I accidentally got locked inside,” said Pashmina, “so I...kicked the door down.” She paused. “I was aimin' for the lock.”

“Well, you – you missed the lock pretty far,” said Pa. “Were you yellin' just a minute ago?”

Pashmina stared at the gaping hole in the door, full of shame. “I was really scared.”

Pa did not react with scolding or anger. He simply unbolted the lock and opened the door properly. “You coulda just given us a few minutes and we would've gotten you out. Your brother heard your yellin'.” Pashmina remained where she was, huddled in on herself, and a few seconds later Pa held out his arms. “Aw, come 'ere.”

She allowed herself to be scooped up into Pa's embrace. He rubbed her back. “If you were really that scared...” He exhaled. “I'm sorry we didn't hear ya soon enough.”

“You're not mad about the door?”

“It's just some wood, Pashmina.”

She blinked down at Pa's arm. “Does it mean we won't be movin' to the farm on time?”

“This? Naw. If the carpenters can't get back to it today, we'll just nail some canvas over the hole, and it'll be good enough for the first part of winter.” He started walking, with one arm around her shoulder, and Pashmina was forced to go along.

They met up with Yarne a short distance away. He had held back while Pa talked to her. “Did you break down the door?” he asked Pashmina. “Your shirt's a little, uh...”

He motioned to her arm. Pashmina looked down and saw that one of the sleeve seams had burst open at the top.

“Is all of this because of something Noire told you?” asked Yarne. “I know she's tryin' to be nice, but when it comes to her fortune telling, you shouldn't take everything seriously. Especially not if she says something that scares you. It's a game, you know?”

It hadn't felt like a game. “She didn't scare me. I scared myself.”

Yarne sighed. “Well – same advice.”

At the house, the door still hung open, and one of the carpenters was setting up a bench for cutting boards just outside. “Hey, you know what?” said Pa. He pointed up towards one of the yawning windows. “Once we move, there's gonna be enough space for more bedrooms. You and Nette and Lacey are gonna get your own.” He grinned down at her. “How does that sound? No more needin' to find a spot every night. If you want, we'll get you all beds too.”

The house had been friendly enough in the morning, but the changing light was just starting to give it a gloomy look again. “I don't need a bed,” said Pashmina. “I don't need a room.”

“Well – you're gonna get one. No more fightin' over whose things go where. We really need you all to be able to have yer own places now that Jacq and Roy are gettin' older.” He squeezed her shoulder and turned to a whisper. “Yarne's gonna be left out at first, but – an' don't tell him this – we're gonna get him his own place built on the land. Right over there.” He waved towards the west field.

“It's not a secret, Pashmina,” yelled Yarne. “I already know.”

“Aw, guess your ma let the cat out of the bag,” said Pa, still smiling. He raised his voice. “But you're lookin' forward to it, aren't ya? Then you won't have to wonder what to do with yourself when you're married.”

“Which won't be anytime soon,” Yarne said. “Probably.”

“Aw, who knows! Your friend the prince managed to get married, didn't he?”

“Yeah, well, luck to him and Kjelle, but I'm still not sure how that happened.”

Pa whispered again to Pashmina. “You'll be able to have Noire read cards for ya every day if you want.”

Yarne stopped where he was walking and turned towards them. “Pa, just quit it!”

“Don't pay me any mind,” called Pa, laughing. All Pashmina could privately think was that she didn't want any more readings done for her anytime soon.

The day after they returned home, Mother confronted her. Pashmina was in the den with Roy and Jacq, whom Yarne had banished from the kitchen for being nuisances. She was supposed to be minding them as she mended the sleeve of her shirt, listening more than watching as they raced a pair of little wooden horses.

The door of the house opened and closed. Mother came in, stretching her shoulders. They had been selling some of their sheep to others in the village in preparation for the move, for only Meg the old ewe and Harken the ram would come with them to the mainland. Pa handled the negotiations with the other villagers (limited to those Mother trusted to care for the animals well, of course), and Mother handled the transportation. She must have just come back from washing, as the fur around her throat and wrists was wet.

Mother's gaze honed in on Pashmina. Pashmina loved her mother as much as she loved Pa, but her taguel parent was by far the more intimidating one. Roy broke the game with his twin to go and embrace Mother about the legs. Mother patted him atop the head while keeping her eyes on Pashmina steady.

“Pashmina,” she said.

Pashmina felt very small. “Yes?”

Mother gently disentangled herself from Roy. “You've been very enthusiastic about going to the farm on the mainland recently.”

Pashmina put down her needle. “I want to see what's happenin' with the move.”

“Your father told me there was an incident this time.”

Pashmina felt her face grow pale. “I...accidentally got locked in the barn.”

“And broke the door while your father was on the way to get you out?”

“I didn't know he was on his way,” said Pashmina. “I thought I had to break myself out.”

“How did you lock yourself there in the first place?”

“I told you. I didn't mean to do that either.”

“Peace. I am only trying to understand,” said Mother. “This might sound unrelated, but I was told a number of wooden boards somehow found themselves down the well behind the house, also.”

Jacq had returned to playing with his horse, but Roy was looking curiously between her and Mother, watching the parley. Pashmina stared down at her half-sewn shirt.

“Besides Yarne – who I'm fairly certain has told me everything he knows about it – you were the only one who was present on both this visit to the mainland and the last,” came Mother's calm voice. “Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

“That I'm bad luck and shouldn't go with everybody to the big farm?” said Pashmina.

Mother tapped her fingers on her hip. “Pashmina.”

“I don't know why those things keep happenin',” Pashmina blurted. “Really. And like I said – I didn't mean to get stuck in the barn.”

But did you mean to throw the logs down the well? was the question she feared next. Mother only closed her eyes. “If that is what happened, then that's what happened,” she said. “But please be more careful in the future. You gave your father quite a scare.”

Then she left to go down the hall into the kitchen, where Yarne and Lacey were in the middle of dinner, leaving Pashmina with a pounding heart. She had lied more about the farm than she thought she had in her entire life up to this point.