Into the Deep Wood

She did not leave the barn the next day. Midday, there was a knock, and when she opened the door, a basket with some food had been left outside. She brought it in and added it to the growing collection by the bedside. Marat returned for a moment in the morning, grabbed fresh clothes, and again left for the fields.

This was also the day that followed. And the next. She did not feel she had the strength to leave or the will to see anyone. Especially, she thought, Amir.

What would he say? What would his face tell her? Was he broken like she was?

Or, worse yet, was he okay?

She did not want to see the farmer’s wife, and she did not want to see the others - she had been discussed. Her body was appraised for her worth, and that was determined to be very little.

Only one of the nights did Marat spend inside the barn. He slept on the floor on the other side of the fire pit, getting up at night only to stir it and ensure it did not fully go out and grow cold. She hadn’t questioned where he went. She had no room for that right now.

On the fourth day, there was another knock at the door. Val got up, still in the clothes she’d come in days ago. Her hair was a greasy mess, her eyes red, and her face swollen. She had not brought any of her things when she came here.

When she opened it, the farmer’s wife stood outside in her apron.

“How are you doing, my dear?” she asked with genuine concern.

“I am trying, Mother,” Val answered, tired. No matter how much she slept, she could not shake the fog.

“Perhaps it would do you good to see the sun,” the woman suggested, “come with me; the chickens need to be fed. We must gather the eggs. The tomatoes need to be tended to.”

Val nodded, although without enthusiasm, and followed her outside.

They did not speak as they did the chores. They did not speak when they were done and returned to the main house. The farmer’s wife had brought her linens and some fresh clothes.

“Take these. I’d lit the stove inside the bath house for you. Quickly now, before everyone gets back. There is eucalyptus there and soap.” she urged Val out the door.

Again, Val obeyed. She walked down the packed dirt path to where the small bathhouse stood. It was built of oak and birch - its walls higher than the houses and the roof flatter. A heavy door led to the inside, where windows close to the roof let in just enough light to reveal benches set down every wall. A stone stove stood in the middle, already blazing hot. A large vat of water next to it.

Val grabbed the ladle and dipped it into the cold water. She poured it over her body, hair, and finally her face. The water was like ice and sent a shock through her, making her flinch back - but she was glad to have it after so many days. The stones from the stove sizzled and steamed as they were lowered into the water. The eucalyptus hung in bunches around the walls and immediately let off a minty, medicinal aroma. The bathhouse filled with steam.

Sitting back against the rough walls, she stared ahead, conflicted between relief and wanting to disappear into the covers of the cot again. She was grateful that Marat had allowed her to stay there after everything. Time and time again, she felt he had saved her when he did not have to. Especially now that he had nothing to gain from her. Now that he did not intend to take her back to his king.

But what would happen to him now?

Her mind drifted as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. The heated wood burned where it touched her skin, but in a way that did not feel painful. She felt the steam and her sweat form beads on her forehead and run down her face and chest. It was so much better than the tears had been.

Her mind was a bit clearer, and perhaps trying to avoid thinking about her own woes, it had come back to Marat.

It did not seem that he slept much anymore. Those long walks. They were not so bad at first, and then they became impossibly long. Now, he was gone most nights, not returning until morning. He looked worse for wear.

Where did he go? Was it a neighboring farm?

Was there a woman there with whom he spent his time?

Val did not like that thought.

At that moment, Val decided that this night she would follow him.

She was no longer afraid. She felt very little in the past days of anything at all, and tonight would be as good of a time as any.

When the steam became too hot, thickening the air, she dipped the ladle again into the vat and scooped the now heated water—washing herself with the soap again, sending the warmth cascading down her body.

Tonight.