Into the Deep Wood

Amir felt shattered. He never said those words to anyone. He never looked at anyone in the way he looked at her. Ever since she arrived, he wanted to protect and care for her.

He only ever had an interest in a couple of girls growing up. The first was only when they had been kids.

The second was a bakery girl near his master’s shop. For months, she would deliver bread baskets, their eyes would meet, and she would blush deeply. She began lingering there, and they would talk. She leaned on the counter, his face so close to hers. Back then, he was so young. So naive.

But Valeria, she had been an enigma. A riddle that he had to solve. She seemed to live in a fog of her thoughts. He would bring her little gifts in those first months, and she did not even notice. And he brought her many - apples, cherries, even a carved bear that he secretly left on her cot.

She did not even know that it was he who, that fateful night, had held her down as the farmer’s wife worked with his tools - his thread and needle - to put this porcelain doll together again. That when she grew tired, it was he who took the needle and so gingerly stitched and tied the knot.

She did not acknowledge when he helped her take short walks. They all took her out - but he would take her to the orchards so she could smell the blooming magnolias and look at the bright red cherry trees. He would even pick a few for her and put them into her small, delicate hands.

He loved her far before she came to the shop. He loved her when he watched her knead dough in the morning. She would touch her nose and leave a dash of flour on her face. It was the way she scrunched it so as not to sneeze.

He hinted to Aimak Sein that his orders had grown, and he could not keep up. For weeks he asked the farmer to allow the farmhand to help him - knowing full well that the man could not be spared and was needed in the fields. When she became well enough to work - she was the first Aimak had thought to send to him.

Spending the days with her had been a thrill. She listened so curiously to his words. He would show her exactly how to extract the tannins from the bark. How to handle the acid the freshly cleaned animal skins would be dipped into. She watched carefully and learned quickly. She asked him questions and seemed to enjoy his stories. She smiled, and his heart pounded.

And, when she kissed him first, his world had been transformed.

She was to be handled with care. She chose to play the games as if they were strangers in front of other’s eyes - although he would have declared his love for all to hear.

They walked the orchards, and he thought of all the wonderful things he couldn’t wait for her to see. He sat in bed at night, jotting down where he would take her. The flowers he would show her. He planned that next summer, they would take the boat out on the lake. He would point toward his family farm and tell her all about it then. And he just knew that she would smile and take in the smells of the water flora and watch the small delicate plants hanging on its surface.

He daydreamed about it whenever he was not around her. He yearned for it. He could not believe that she had been brought into his life.

But then, a blessing does not come without a curse.

Marat.

The rough, stoic man that had come with her. When they first arrived, Amir had thought this was the girl’s father. It was hard to tell his age beneath his long, unkempt hair and beard.

None of them had the skill to treat his wounds, but Aimak had the experience to know that there was no saving the man’s leg. So, they cut it off. Amir had done the job as Aimak held him down. The man had struggled, even if he was not fully there.

Amir had begun doubting the relationship between the two as Marat recovered, and she had not. He had been too attentive and watched the barn too closely while they were out working. The way he held her up while taking her on walks was not that of a father.

He did not speak, in fact, they knew nothing of him still, and Amir had distrusted him immediately.

Then, winter came. And Amir’s fears had been alleviated when Val had moved into the main house and Marat had not. But, surely, there was a secret held between the two. No one knew where they came from or why.

Amir still did not trust the man. The way Marat had sometimes joked, at his expense, and held himself so high. He talked about things that Amir did not know or understand. He towered over Amir when they stood near. But more than that, Marat had never addressed him with anything more than ‘boy.’

Then, one morning, he saw her leave the barn. His heart had dropped - she slunk away as if she meant to do it secretly.

It felt as if it was then or never. He had to know.

Then, Aimak appeared at his door. He sat Amir down and explained what was expected. What was forbidden, and what was at stake. He spoke of Amir’s father. Of the promises that were made between them. Of the dreams his father had for him. Aimak had spoken of the disappointment that it would bring had Amir continued to pursue the girl. And what it meant for her and her companion.

Amir had wept that night. He felt that in his hands, he held her fate. They would have asked her to leave had he not complied. She confided in him that at the farm, she found a home - one that reminded her so of her old one. So, he would be forced to give her up. She would be right there within arm’s reach and yet unattainable.

He spent days lamenting, and at night he began to plan to leave. It hurt too much to see her there and not be his.

But all that had been pummeled into the ground when he saw her leave the man’s dwelling once again. She clearly looked as if a sleepless night had taken a toll.

Amir pushed away the thoughts, he could not bear it.

Rage, boiling, thrashing against his heart and in his very soul. The memory of her lip’s warmth had still lingered in his mind, and she had already gone back to bed the vagrant scum.

How often had this happened right under his nose?

How many times had she lied to him? Had it been all the while he spent the nights thinking of how they would spend the summer? How could she? He was giving up everything for her…

The thoughts of her and Marat together blinded him, and when he came back to - he stood in front of her - her green eyes wide and sad. He immediately regretted what he said; but not enough to take it back. And not enough to listen to what she had to say.

He walked away. All he could feel was his fury, his disgust, his broken heart.

Now, there was no question. He was leaving.

But not before he killed Marat.

He’d seen him there, wandering past the fields and to the lake. Time and time again, Marat had walked off in that direction. Alone. Amir had known the path, it led to the overgrown dock. He would return as soon as he recovered from his illness.

Amir had packed his things. Perhaps he would go south to Sudraj? Or north to Roska? He wouldn’t see the fallout of them finding the crippled man’s body. Nothing else mattered. Whatever it was that Marat had on her, it would die along with him.

Physically, Amir could not overpower the man. This he knew. But he had the advantage of speed, mobility, and surprise. The latter was what he had counted on the most. He’d set a trap, an ambush. He’d be waiting just before dark. And when Marat came through the trees - he’d spring down with an ax. But maybe it was not an ax. Maybe a pitchfork. A hunting knife?

No, but a hunting knife would put him too close. Maybe a crossbow, one that the farmer had kept under his bed - from times when packs of wolves would roam the fields.

It would be the crossbow.

Amir had liked the poetic justice. A bolt would rupture Marat’s heart the way Valeria had broken his. Eye for an eye.

He found the perfect spot. Here, the trees would part after a shaded valley. The dock was just ahead - he could see it from where he stood. Here, he could wait behind the patch of reeds.

He would see Marat coming, and he would be ready.

That night, he took the crossbow while the farmer slept.

“Mother?”

“What is it, my dear?” the older woman paused her sweeping of the heart’s ash out the door. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m… “ Val was not sure how to begin, “...having trouble remembering something.”

The woman straightened, putting her weight on the broom, ready to listen.

“I want to ask you about the lake,” Val said.

“The lake? It’s warm enough, but the boat is stored - my husband had broken an oar at the end of last summer. I’m afraid there is not time right now to make another, but I can ask.” the farmer’s wife answered. “What of the lake?”

“It is not that,” Val answered, sitting beside her, “It’s just that my grandmother used to tell me stories about something that lives in the lake. But I’d forgotten them. I hoped that maybe you knew?” She lied.

“Oh, my dear, there are so many stories about the lake!” The farmer’s wife smiled. Across her face flashed memories of her children. “You do not remember? Why don’t I - but we have little time, right? Perhaps we can tell them later by the fire.”

“Please, Mother, I’ve been racking my brain for days - my grandmother was all I had.” Val lied again.

The farmer’s wife looked like she’d been won over.

“I recall,” Val said, “stories of a woman that'd turned into a frog.”

“Yes, she’d been kissed by her true love! And turned right back into a princess. That one was my favorite of all.” The farmer’s wife recalled, sitting down next to her.

“Another of a serpent who ruled the waters,” Val suggested, waiting.

“Ah, but you are mistaken, my dear. He did not rule the waters of a lake. He ruled the seas. In his crystal palace, he commanded the seas to go forth and run as rivers across the land. He was to thank for all the bounties that they’d brought with them.”

“Mother, there was another one. Of a water maiden, who lured men.” she watched the woman carefully. Had she asked it point blankly, she may have mentioned it casually at dinner. She could not have Marat know that she inquired.

“A water maiden! Oh yes, my kids had not swum the entire summer when I first told of it.” A cheeky smile appeared on her lips.

“And what of it?”

“She lived in the depths, abandoned by her true love. So every passing man she asked if it were he. And when they’d told her they weren’t, she’d take them in the lake and never let them leave.”

“Does this story not have a happy ending?” Val tried again; this much she could have guessed. She needed more.

“I think, eventually, she was defeated. She certainly did not find her true love.” The older woman said thoughtfully. “It’s been a while. They did not want to hear this one more than once.”

“But what is a story with no ending?”

The farmer’s wife sighed, thinking harder.

“They’d only been very little. But, I think a prince had come along, and she could not lure him into the lake. Instead, he took her by the hair and dragged her onto land. When her hair dried in the sun, she died.”

Amir returned to the spot nightly, waiting in the ambush. He would spend a few hours there, but the man never showed.

It was a few days later until Amir sat down between the farmhand and the farmer’s wife - and the loathsome man was back across the table. As if salt on a wound, Val was seated next to him. Although he did not speak, aside from nods from people wishing him good health, Amir felt tension in the air. Maybe Marat knew of the exchange he and Valeria had outside the barn.

They made eye contact. Marat’s dark eyes were impassive - but Amir was sure the man was gloating. He’d won. He’d shown the ‘boy’ where his place had been.

Amir seethed.

And that same night, he left before dark. He climbed into his hiding spot, his anger so considerable he could feel it heat his skin. He waited again, deathly still.

A branch crunched, and his muscles tensed, ready to shoot.

“Why do you wait in hiding, my love?”