Chapter 5

Gwendolyn hurried to the barn, trying to look as unsuspicious as possible. As she approached the entrance to the barn, she stopped, scanning the horizon in all directions until she was confident there was no one nearby. Then she slipped through the doors.

“Hey girl,” she said to Riela. “How are you? I’m so sorry,” she started stroking Riela’s ears as she spoke, “I have to go. I won’t be here for the birth of your pups.” Gwendolyn reached up to the pack holding the dog treats and slipped one out, feeding it to Riela.

Gwendolyn stood up, giving the dog a last, forlorn pat on the head. Then she started walking around the barn, letting the animals out of their stalls as if she was just going about her normal routine. She mucked the stalls, humming a mindless tune and trying not to worry herself. She was humming and sweeping some stray hay when the door to the barn opened and Gastaf walked in, firmly shutting the door behind him even though they usually kept it open during the good weather. Gwendolyn started at the noise and ran immediately to Gastaf. He held an unusually large pack, which he was cradling protectively in the crook of his arm.

“Gastaf,” she cried, throwing herself into his arms without a moment of hesitation. “It happened.”

“Oh no,” he said, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly, though somewhat awkwardly due to the bag he held. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Winnie. I was worried that was what your mother wanted. She seemed unusually excited to be taking you into town.” He stroked her hair gently.

“Gastaf,” she said again, pulling back and holding him by the shoulders and staring at him intensely, “please, please, tell me you—” but before she could finish, he had cut her off.

“I got the money. Just in case. I was hoping I was wrong.” He pulled the bag from his shoulder and rifled through it for a moment, eventually pulling out a slightly smaller sack, bulging at the bottom and tied at the top with a string. “I think it will be enough. I hope it will be enough.” Gwendolyn had, over the course of several years, pilfered some of the nicer items from her family’s home. Gastaf had sold them for her, discreetly waiting until traveling merchants came through the town over the course of the years. He held the money for her in the bank for all these years, knowing she couldn’t safely keep it herself.

“It’ll have to be,” she replied, grabbing it. “Thank you.”

“Do you have your stuff?” He asked, pulling something else from the bag.

“I have the essentials. I thought I had more time. I didn’t bring spare clothes; I couldn’t find a good opportunity to sneak them out. I didn’t bring a tinder set either. I have the rest, the cloak and salt and some knives.”

“Do you have anything to hunt with?”

“I can fish, and I know how to make rabbit snares,” she replied.

“You won’t be able to defend yourself from larger beasts with just a knife…” he trailed off. They exchanged a look, and they both knew this was true. If Gwendolyn ran across a bear or wyvern, she would likely die. Her only option would be to outrun it.

“I know,” she said. A moment passed between them, an understanding that it was likely the last time they would ever see each other. Gastaf nodded, and Gwendolyn turned away.

She turned to the ladder leading to the barn loft. Leaving the money at the bottom, she climbed it swiftly and made her way to a very dimly lit corner of the loft. The corner was piled with spare burlap bags, and Gwendolyn moved the entire pile to the side. Then she lifted a corner of a board underneath, pulled the board up, and, after fishing around for a moment, elbows deep in the floor, she hoisted a rucksack out of the space she had created.

Hauling it over her shoulder, Gwendolyn made her way back down the loft ladder and landed with a heavy thud on the ground where Gastaf still stood. He was still holding the package he had pulled out of his own bag earlier, and he handed it to her.

“It’s cheese and salted meat, and there are some crackers in there too. Not much, but it should last you a few weeks until you can get to a town far enough away that you can go into the market.”

“Thank you, Gastaf,” Gwendolyn said, tears in her eyes. She hurriedly stuffed the food, coin sack, and her waterskin into the rucksack.

“What are you going to do about the spare clothes? It’s going to get cold soon. You’ll need something warmer.”

“I think I have to sneak into the house,” she replied. “I don’t have any other choice. You’re right, I need it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked, looking frightened.

“Maybe…” she trailed off and stared into the distance momentarily. “Actually, yes. Maybe you could lurk about and pretend to work in the field close to the house. If it seems like I’m going to get caught, maybe you could interrupt and distract my parents.”

Gastaf nodded. “Aye, I think I could do that. It’s nearly midday, and if I know anything about your father, he won’ be breaking from his tradition of harassing your mother for his lunch.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Let’s go now, then.”

They both headed toward the barn door, but Gwendolyn stopped with her hand on the pull, made of rough rope and dirtied steel.

“You’ll be okay doing the work today?” She looked at him, eyes full of concern. “I mean, it’s not a one-man job, really. I’m leaving you here to deal with it all alone.”

Gastaf just nodded. He looked almost wistfully back at the other side of the barn, where sunlight streamed in and cows grazed in the distance. “I can handle it for a day, I can.” He clapped a hand onto her arm. “Just you take care of yourself.”

Gwendolyn pulled the roughly hewn, massive door open and it swung inward without much protest. Gastaf and Gwendolyn both began walking toward the furthest field.

When they’d almost reached it, Gastaf stopped suddenly. Gwendolyn did an about face, turning abruptly.

“What is it, Gastaf? We shouldn’t linger on the road,” she said nervously, eyeing the horizon behind him.

“After you’ve made it in and out, meet me at the old road out of town, in the trees. By that rock you used to climb when you were younger.”

“Why? I don’t want to risk my father finding out you aren’t at the barn. I don’t want you any more involved. You’ve done too much already,” she stated, still letting her eyes sweep the fields behind Gastaf’s head.

“Please, Winnie. I want to be able to say goodbye,” he said in a soft tone. She looked at his weathered face, one she viewed with more love and affection than she had for her actual father. Gastaf had always cared for her. If he wanted to say goodbye, she couldn’t deny him that. She nodded.

“Okay,” she acquiesced. Let’s get it over with.”

Moments later, Gwendolyn was walking, attempting to be casual. She circled the house, stopping at the back where a large elm tree cast shade over a part of the house. The branches stretched wistfully toward the window that opened from the small kids’ room.

“Good thing I’m a good climber,” she muttered to herself as she hoisted herself up onto the lowest branch. She began to climb, long practiced at sneaking back into the house for an hour or so to nap, because sometimes when her parents were out Gastaf would cover for her.

She popped up onto the branch closest to the window and inched forward until she was able to slide a twig under the frame and pop the window out toward herself. Then she quickly hopped over the sill and landed quietly. She had to keep as quiet as possible because her parents’ bedroom was directly beneath the room she was in.

She slipped through the door, thankfully left ajar by the kids when they left, trying very hard not to listen to her parents in their room while still listening for the sound of the bedroom door opening.

It only took her a moment to riffle around in her trunk to find the clothes she had bought for herself and painstakingly snuck into the room. A woolen sweater and pair of thick linen pants, as well as equally thick undergarments and a winter dress. Lastly, a pair of boots and a pair of thin linen shoes.

As she pulled the shoes out, something else tumbled from her trunk. Looking down, she realized it was the little shoes she had fashioned for Bartin’s doll yesterday. She tucked them into the pocket of her dress. With that, she took one last look around the room she had grown up in.

She slipped back into the smaller bedroom, and carefully placed the shoes on Bartin’s pillow. She sat on the bed for just one moment, knowing she may never see her siblings again.

Suddenly she heard a noise to her right. The sound is a loud “mreow”.

Her head shot up. “Marelon,” she whispers, looking at the little reddish-brown cat with little black spots, “shoo, Marelon!”

“Mreow,” the little cat responded, “mreow, mreow.”

She reached out to pet him and he purred into her hand. She scratched his cheek, and he jumped down onto the bedroom floor.

“Mreow,” he called, circling her and sniffing her ankles. His little cries got louder, despite Gwendolyn’s attempts to placate him.

“Is that the stupid cat?” She heard her mother from the room below.

“Aye,” she heard her father’s voice. “Jus’ ignore him, baby.” Her father is slurring his words slightly.

“No, I hate that cat. Should never have let that girl keep him, the nuisance.”

“Eh, he isn’t all that bad,” her father says, his voice muffled but not inaudible. “Good mouser.”

She heard her mother’s voice, so low Gwendolyn couldn’t quite discern the words. Her father’s voice, equally inaudible suddenly, made her mother giggle in response and then there is a creaking of floorboards and shuffling.

“Mreow, mreow, mreow!” Marelon shouted insistently. He usually curled himself up at the bottom of Gwendolyn’s bed, but hadn’t come in last night. Gwendolyn thought perhaps he needed to make up for lost attention. She petted his head quickly and made a decision to try to rush out.

Gwendolyn stood abruptly and bolted as quietly as possible to the window, as Marelon’s screaming meows were getting louder behind her. Throwing one leg over the open windowsill, she shot a quick “shushhhh” behind her.

Marelon responded by getting louder, running to the wall under the window and reaching up to scratch it.

“Ugh, shut up,” came her father’s voice, and suddenly she heard the sound of his footsteps approaching his bedroom door, clearly coming to kick Marelon out of the house.

Gwendolyn frantically tossed the boots in her hand to the ground, where they landed with a loud thunk. She frantically shook the branches, hoping Gastaf was still watching. She froze on the windowsill, externally stunned with fear but externally trying to decide if she could climb down and hide fast enough to avoid detection.

A moment later, just as her father’s footsteps had started up the stairs, Gwendolyn heard the front door. It opened, and her father’s voice said, “Gastaf? Is something wrong?” She heard the sound of her father walking back down the few stairs he had ascended. “Did you run here?”

“Mreowww?” Marelon looked quizzically at her. “Mreow?”

“Oh, yes, uh… it’s Riela! Riela, I think she’s in labor. The puppies are coming.”

“What? Oh wow, thank The Five Gods. I was beginning to worry about her. Maryan, Maryan, Riela is giving birth.”

Maryan shouted something unintelligible and, from the sound of it, made no attempt to leave the bedroom.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Sardain said. “Wait, where’s Gwendolyn?”

“Oh, she went to gather some herbs in the forest. You know, in case we need them. For Riela.”

“Hmmmph. Your idea, I suppose. Girl doesn’t have the sense,” Gwendolyn closed her eyes wearily, her hand dropping off the windowsill in tired annoyance, listening to her father insult her once again.

Without another word, the pair of them hurried out the door.

“Mreow,” this little meow was quiet, as Marelon pushed his head against her hand. He purred contentedly.

She pet him for a moment, then moved away from him, and brought her other leg over the windowsill and hoisted herself back onto the tree.

“Mreow!” Louder again, Marelon protested.

She paused on the branch, then made a decision.

“Fine,” she hissed at Marelon. Putting both feet on the ground, perching herself on the windowsill, she opened her bag on her lap, reached down, and scooped the cat up.

She stuck him inside, and he just barely fit into her bag. He immediately quieted. She drew the drawstrings tight to keep him safe and tied them together to prevent it reopening.

Pulling it back over her other shoulder, Gwendolyn secured the pack carefully so that the cat wouldn’t fall out, and then hopped as quickly as possible back out the window and onto the branch. “Stupid cat,” she muttered under her breath. “Gonna get me caught.” But as she muttered it, she grinned. She loved the stupid cat.

Her shoes making a thud as she hopped off the tree, she heard Marelon chirp happily inside the bag. Scooping up her boots, which wouldn’t fit into the pack now that she had gained a passenger, she glanced to her left, then her right, and ensured no one was nearby. Then she set her sights on the tree line in the distance, curled her fists, and made a mad dash for freedom.

When she hit the tree line, she kept running straight in for a few minutes, letting the momentum carry her deeper into the forest. When she finally slowed to a brisk walk, she breathed in.

“We did it,” she whispered to the little cat curled up in her bag. A tiny, muffled chirp answered her.

Turning left abruptly, she almost instinctively found the road that would lead her to the climbing rock. Glancing overhead, she knew she couldn’t wait for Gastaf for too long. She couldn’t linger, or she would risk being caught.

But to her surprise, and joy, Gastaf was waiting for her at the rock when she emerged into the little clearing some way off the road.

“You made it!” he said with a grin, stretching his arms wide. “I know you have to go, Winnie. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Thank you for everything,” she muttered, letting him envelope her in an embrace. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Winnie, you can do anything, and I do mean anything, all by yourself. You don’t need anyone. But I know Abbia would never have forgiven me if I didn’t help you.”

“How did you get away from my father?”

“Ah, he thinks yer out gathering herbs still. I convinced him to load the dog up in the cart and take her down to the doctor,” he shrugged. “She’s past due for it anyway, and you know your father will never spare an expense for the dogs.” The disgust in Gastaf’s voice was palpable, and it made his voice and his mannerisms rougher. He had never made any secret to Winnie how much he despised Sardain’s treatment of his children compared to his animals.

“Especially not now if he thinks he’s about to make gold off my virginity,” Gwendolyn giggled softly.

“Hey,” Gastaf put a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye, “you take care of yourself, promise me. I may never see you again, but I’ll rest eas’er if I know you head straight to the Capitol. Don’ you stop ‘til you get somewhere safe.”

“I promise, Gastaf. I promise.”

“I’ll look after the youngins, okay? Especially little Tannia. I tol’ him you went out gathering to the southwest, down by the pond, so you stay away from there. You’re going the other way, right?”

“Yes, thank you, I’m taking the Eastern Pass.”

“Good, good.”

“Mreow!” Marelon meowed from Gwendolyn’s bag, suddenly fighting the drawstring top to be let out.

“Ah, you’re taking my mousing buddy!” Gastaf laughed. “Good. You’ll need the protection.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a simple, blue beaded bracelet. It’s aged and the leather has faded in some spots. “This belonged to my Abbia, she called it her good luck charm. Had it with her when she got to Bartet, never took it off, not until she died. She’d have wanted you to have it. You need the luck now,” he held it out.

“Gastaf, I can’t!” Gwendolyn was touched but backed away a half step.

Gastaf reached out and gently took Gwendolyn’s wrist, slipping the bracelet on and tightening the leather to secure it.

“I got a house full of memories, three beautiful kids, and even a portrait of Abbia and I together. I don’t need this keepsake. And I spent all my luck for my entire lifetime the day that woman agreed to marry me, wouldn’t have it any other way. So, this is for you.”

Gastaf dropped her wrist and started to turn away. As he did, he brushed a single tear from his cheek.

“Thank you, Gastaf. I’ll cherish it forever,” Gwendolyn finally whispered, rubbing a finger over the delicate glass beading.

“I know you will,” he said over his shoulder, walking away.