B1 Chapter 13: Morning

Belladonna stepped outside into air that still smelled of rain and wet wood. The storm had finally burned itself out, leaving the sky scrubbed clean and the moon hanging heavy and bright above the village. Everything glistened. Every roof dripped. Every rut in the road held a silver reflection.

It was late. Far later than she normally wandered alone.

She stepped off the narrow wooden walkway that connected the houses and sank ankle-deep into the mud of the street without even flinching. The cold soaked through her boots. She barely felt it. Down the slope she went, past shuttered windows and darkened lanterns, toward the crooked little cabin at the very edge of the village where the trees began to crowd close.

She paused at the door only long enough to steady her breathing before pushing it open.

“Mom. Dad. I’m home.”

Her voice echoed faintly in the small space.

The cabin smelled like damp herbs and smoke. Familiar. Safe.

She crossed the room to the mantle where two small clay urns rested side by side, simple and unadorned. She brushed her fingers over them the way she always did, as though checking a pulse that was no longer there.

“I met somebody today,” she said quietly. “And I think… I think I’m cursed.”

The words hung there between her and the ashes.

She exhaled shakily and dragged a hand down her face.

“He’s really fun. In a stuck-up, irritating, too-proper-for-his-own-good kind of way. But he’s dying.” Her throat tightened. “And I don’t know why I feel so bad about it. I think I’m blaming myself. I’m pretty sure I sped it up by taking him on an adventure I had no right dragging him along for. All for a prank. A stupid prank.”

A humorless laugh slipped out of her.

“You always said my pranks would get me in trouble. They haven’t. Not really. I’m still standing.” She swallowed. “But they’ve gotten everyone else around me in trouble at least a little. And maybe this time it’s more than a little.”

She leaned her forehead against the mantle.

“He asked me to take care of his horse when he dies,” she whispered. “Like that’s just a thing you ask someone you met this morning.”

Silence answered her.

“Anyway. I love you both. I miss you every day. I wish you were still here. You’d know what to do.”

Her voice cracked.

“Don’t tell Millie I said that. She’d call me a little bitch. And she wouldn’t be entirely wrong. I’m just… emotional today.”

She straightened, wiped her face with the heel of her palm, and walked into the back room.

She stood in front of her pantry for a long moment, staring at shelves lined with jars of dried herbs, preserved roots, wrapped cuts of meat, and sacks of grain. Her eyes sharpened. Something settled inside her.

She nodded once to herself.

The cabin didn’t sleep that night.

Metal scraped against stone. Water boiled. Mortar and pestle ground until her arms ached. Smoke coiled thick and fragrant through the rafters and poured from the chimney in lazy streams. If anyone had been awake to listen, they would’ve heard muttering, swearing, the thud of something heavy being hauled across the floor, and the occasional sharp curse when she burned her fingers.

The smells drifting out into the village were rich and strange. Bitter herbs. Rendered fat. Something sweet undercut by something dark.

By the time dawn began to stain the horizon gray, Belladonna looked like she hadn’t blinked in hours.

She stepped outside with a massive sack slung over her back, straps biting into her shoulders. It barely fit through the doorway. She had to turn sideways and shove to get it clear of the frame.

Her eyes were ringed in shadow. It was hard to tell whether she had woken early or hadn’t slept at all.

The road was still slick with mud. The air held that sharp morning chill that bit at bare skin.

She started toward Modivar’s shop without hesitation.

Halfway there, she veered abruptly and marched to a squat little house with crooked shutters. The door that looked like it had survived at least three bar fights.

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She pounded on it three times with the flat of her fist.

“Ed! Edd! Eduardo! Get up, ya bastards!” she bellowed.

Inside, something crashed. A muffled curse followed.

After a long, fumbling moment, the door creaked open. Three nearly identical gnomes blinked out at her, hair sticking up in different directions, shirts half-buttoned, eyes barely open.

“Oh, Bella,” one of them mumbled. “I thought there was some sort of attack.”

“There will be,” she snapped, pointing a finger at their chests one by one, “if you don’t get your asses over to Modivar’s shop and help me fix his goddamn roof.”

The gnomes exchanged a look.

One rubbed his eyes. “It’s barely dawn.”

“Good,” she shot back. “Then we’ve got the whole day to get it done.”

The three nodded as one, agreeing with her logic, and followed along after gathering the supplies they needed.

By the time they reached Modivar’s shop, the sky had brightened to a dull gray and the village was beginning to stir.

Belladonna spotted Millie first.

Millie stood in front of the shop with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression impatient and sharp. The moment she saw Bella trudging up the road with the sack on her back, she lifted one hand and held it out in a firm stop.

“What the hell are you thinking, girl?” Millie demanded.