Chapter 83: No Response
Meredith adjusted her shawl over her shoulders, balancing the basket on her arms as she walked into the nearby village market. The sun cast golden hues over the stalls brimming with fresh produce, bread, and goods.
Merchants called out their wares to passersby. The air was filled with the scents of ripe fruit, freshly baked bread, and herbs.
Her triplets were at home, watched over by Edna, who had offered to help for a few hours. Meredith needed to restock their pantry and hoped to find fresh ingredients to prepare hearty meals for her growing boys.
“Good morning, sir,” she greeted the first vendor standing behind a stall of vibrant vegetables. “How much for the carrots and potatoes?”
The man glanced at her, but his smile faded as his gaze flicked over her plain dress and unfamiliar face. Without a word, he turned to another customer.
Meredith's stomach sank, but she forced a polite smile and stepped aside. Perhaps he hadn't heard her.
At the next stall, she tried again, approaching a woman selling eggs and butter.
“Excuse me, how much for a dozen eggs?”
The woman's eyes narrowed, and she leaned slightly away. “We're sold out,” she said curtly, though Meredith could clearly see baskets full of eggs on the table.
“Ah… I see,” Meredith murmured, stepping back and clutching her basket tightly.
At a stall selling bread, she reached out to pick up a loaf but froze when the vendor suddenly snatched it away.
“That's reserved,” the man said sharply, though he hadn't mentioned it to the customer before her.
“I understand,” Meredith said softly. Her cheeks burned, and a tear nearly fell from her eye, but she sniffed it away. Her chest tightened, but she moved on.
The whispers began to surround her as she walked through the market.
“She just showed up out of nowhere. No one knows where she came from. What if she's running from something? Or someone?”
“Running from the law, more like. What if she's killed a man?”
“And now she has three boys? Just like that? Who's the father?”
“No father, I'll bet. Probably some wandering soldier… or worse.”
“Maybe she's a prostitute.”
“Or sick. Wouldn't surprise me.”
Meredith kept her head high, though her heart ached at their words. She had expected this, but it still caught her off guard.
Finally, she reached a stall manned by a young woman with auburn hair and kind eyes. The table was lined with jars of honey and bundles of dried herbs.
“Good morning,” Meredith said hesitantly. “How much for the honey?”
The girl smiled warmly. “Two copper pieces a jar,” she said.
Relief flooded Meredith's chest as she handed over the coins. “Thank you,” she said earnestly.
The girl nodded, her smile faltering slightly as her gaze shifted past Meredith. A tall, stern-faced woman approached the stall and glared at her.
“Lila, what are you doing?” the woman snapped. “You don't sell to strangers. You never know what trouble they bring.”
“But—” the girl began, looking flustered.
“No buts!” the woman hissed, snatching the jar of honey from Meredith's hands and slamming the coins back into her palm. “We don't serve your kind here.”
Meredith's throat tightened as she thought, What does she mean by that? Her hands trembled as she clutched the rejected coins.
“I'm just trying to feed my sons,” she said quietly.
“Then you should've thought about that before coming here,” the woman said coldly, turning her back.
Meredith's heart sank as she stepped away, her basket nearly empty. As she left the market, tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She thought of her boys waiting at home, their bright smiles a balm to her aching heart.
They didn't deserve to suffer because of her.
“I'll find another way,” she whispered to herself.
Meredith returned home. As she opened the door, the sounds of her boys laughing with Edna filled the cottage. The sight of them—Daemond tugging on Edna's skirt, Ksaver babbling excitedly, and Marcus quietly playing with his wooden ring—brought a bittersweet smile to her face.
“How did it go, dear?” Edna asked, her gaze falling on the nearly empty basket in Meredith's hands.
Meredith hesitated, biting her lower lip as she set the basket down. “The market… the vendors wouldn't sell to me.”
Edna sighed, her face darkening slightly. “I told you I should've gone myself. Fools, the lot of them...”
“It's okay.” Meredith knelt by her boys, stroking Marcus’s curls as he looked up at her with wide eyes. “I'll find another way,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.
“You'll need to,” Edna said softly. “But you're clever, Merry. I've no doubt you'll figure something out. Just remember that you can always rely on me...”
That afternoon, after tucking the boys in for their nap, Meredith sat at the small table across from Edna.
“I can't depend on the market or on you, Edna,” Meredith said. “You've already given us so much, even things I didn't know how to ask for.” She lowered her gaze to her clenched hands, pausing for a moment.
She continued, “But I noticed wild berries and mushrooms in the forest near the river. And herbs—plenty of them. If I gather them myself, I can barter with others who might not visit the market. Or even sell them to nearby villages.”
Edna nodded thoughtfully. “It's risky, wandering the woods alone. You've got those little ones depending on you, Merry...”
“I know,” Meredith replied, meeting Edna's gaze. “But I don't have a choice. I'm broke, and my boys eat so much.” She paused. “The forest is my best chance. And besides, I'm stronger than they think I am.”
Edna's lips twitched into a smile. “That, you are.”
Meredith made her way through the underbrush. The fading sun filtered through above, dappling the ground with golden light. Clusters of wild blackberries caught her eye, their dark, glossy fruit glistening like tiny jewels.
She knelt and carefully plucked them from the thorny vines, smiling as each berry slowly filled her basket.
Nearby, she spotted a patch of mushrooms nestled at the base of an ancient oak tree. She crouched beside them, gently brushing away the leaves to reveal their stems.
Suddenly, a chill prickled at the back of her neck.
Meredith's hand hovered over another mushroom. The leaves rustled, but it wasn't the soft swish of the wind or the scurry of small animals. It was almost as if someone were stepping carefully through the forest, watching her.
Her heart quickened, but she steadied herself. She stood slowly, her eyes scanning the tree line. The dense foliage offered no clear view of anything beyond shadows and shifting light.
It's nothing, she told herself. I'm overthinking things.
Still, she couldn't shake the strange feeling that settled on her heart. She tightened her grip on the small knife at her belt.
She took a step forward, her basket hanging from her arm, and then she heard it.
A howl.
The piercing sound sent a shiver down her spine. She glanced toward the direction of the sound but saw nothing.
The forest suddenly fell silent.
The rustling of leaves and chirping of birds disappeared, leaving only the sound of her own breathing.
Then, another noise. A faint rustling in the brush behind her.
Meredith turned sharply. “Who's there?” she called.
No response.
The underbrush swayed as though touched by an unseen hand, then, too, went still.
For a long moment, Meredith stood rooted to the spot. Nothing moved. No more howls echoed. Just the eerie silence, as though the forest itself were holding its breath.
You've faced worse than this, she reminded herself, forcing her legs to move.
She shifted her basket higher on her arm and started back toward the river. The odd weight lingered on her shoulders, but she refused to look back. Instead, she focused ahead. She had children to feed and care for—no time to dwell on shadows.
By the time she reached the familiar sound of the rushing river, her chest eased slightly. The forest began to hum again, as though nothing strange had ever happened.
But Meredith knew better.
She knelt by the river to rinse her hands, casting one last glance over her shoulder, her gaze sweeping the trees.
Nothing moved, but her instincts whispered that she wasn't alone.
Whatever—or whoever—had been there was gone.
For now.