The First Day of Spring

Deep in the valley of Riverfowl the first day of spring did not dawn; the season started with a storm so grim that no one noticed the sun’s journey above the horizon. An old stone cottage marked the border between the fields that fed the village and the Wilds. It sat at the very edge of man’s kingdoms like the last trailing star in the tail of a constellation. Men had lived in Riverfowl for so long that even the gods that were made had all but forgotten the ancient foe that dwelt beyond the settlement. They had forgotten the creature they bound to darkness when the All-Father was raised above them to be all-powerful and ever-present but never there. They had forgotten that so long as an enemy lives, they are never truly defeated. For the vengeance of a God is a game played in aeons.

At the tolling of the second bell after spring’s lost dawn, Cassie-Anne Carpenter was lightly snoring in the hayloft. The cattle bedded below her were a blanket of whispers and warmth. The musky scent of the beasts suffused the rough-hewn ash and oak. On one of the thick rafters, a small grey cat with a split in her ear readied herself to pounce. Soft paws landed on crackling straw as the feline took a seat beside Cassie’s shoulder. The thin tip of her tail twitched. Raindrops smattered the side of the barn, caught in a strong gust of wind as the cat tilted her head to the side, lifting a graceful paw. 

Cassie was woken by a wet nose and a claw. “Tufty, stop it,” she mumbled but still drew the blankets aside to allow the cat to slip into the warm bedding. 

Tufty nestled tightly into the crook of Cassie’s arm as she fell straight back to sleep. Not long after, the light snoring that filled the barn was interrupted by a complex series of knocks. After a few breaths without response, a head of chestnut curls slipped through the narrow opening. 

“Wake up,” Sarah-Ellen Carpenter called, her voice thick enough to catch flies.

Shoulders hunching, Cassie pulled the blankets tighter. 

“You must wake up now, little sister.” Sarah-Ellen’s head poked over the top of the hayloft, the ladder’s rungs creaking as she climbed higher. “I brought you breakfast.”

Cassie sat straight up. 

“Tufty, no!” Sarah-Ellen shrieked, losing her grip on the ladder as the cat flew past in a streak of grey fur.

Cassie grabbed her sister before she fell, wrenching her into the safety of the loft. The ladder hit the floor below with a clatter, startling the sleeping cattle awake. The sisters peered over the edge to the long drop.

“That was close.” Sarah-Ellen brushed a shaky hand through her hair taking a deep breath.

Cassie moved to the edge of her blankets to make space for her. Once she was settled, Cassie fixed her with a suspicious glare. Her dress was wet, and her dark curls, damp from the rain, were becoming wilder by the moment.

“What did you get me?” Cassie asked.

Sarah-Ellen pulled a roll and a lump of cheese from her pocket. “It’s all I could sneak without ma’ seeing. She’s watching the kitchen like a lizardhawk.” 

Cassie yawned as she tore the roll in half. It was still warm, tendrils of steam rising in the crisp morning air. She broke the cheese, crumbling it between the halves of the roll. “What’s she doing in there?” Despite the storm, the barn was light enough for dawn’s bell to have long passed. “Shouldn’t she be in the workshop already?”

“She’s been baking since before dawn.” Sarah-Ellen drew her bottom lip between her teeth before she spoke. “Says she wants everything to be perfect for tonight.” 

A splattering of crumbs spilt onto her bedding as Cassie chewed on the crumbling bread. “Wha-s hap-g t-ght?”

Sarah-Ellen shook her head. “I can’t understand you when you speak with your mouth full.”

Rolling her eyes, Cassie swallowed the half-chewed mouthful, wincing as the brittle crust caught her throat on the way down. “You could have brought me some tea.” She brushed the crumbs off her lips. “I said, what’s happening tonight?”

Her second bite was enough to finish off her breakfast. The heat of the roll had softened the hard yellow cheese, lending it a sharp, smoky tang.

“The Smiths are visiting to celebrate the engagement.”

Cassie swallowed as she remembered the joyous reason for the celebration. It felt like a lump of burnt coal in the pit of her stomach. She sighed as she slumped back. “I forgot about tonight.” 

Above their heads, Tufty’s thin grey tail hung over the edge of a beam, twitching pendulously from side to side. 

“You sound so miserable.” Sarah-Ellen plumped the pillow beneath her arm, sinking into its softness. “The Smiths aren’t all bad, and there’ll be lots of food.”

Cassie fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “Not all bad … just mostly awful.”

“Thom is awful,” Sarah-Ellen agreed, taking her hand.

Her skin was soft, but hours spent plucking lute strings had left hardened calluses on her fingertips. Above them, tiny bits of dust floated through the air, glinting in the stray beams of grey light that filtered through the thatched roof.

“I don’t think much of Jonas either,” Cassie admitted.

Tufty sneezed, a flicker of whiskers briefly visible over the edge of her perch as her tail puffed.

“He’s to be my father-in-law.” Sarah-Ellen squeezed her hand tighter. “Please have some patience with them. For my sake—and Jack’s. You like Jack at least, don’t you?”

Below them, the cattle stirred, anxious to be let out. The wind whispered, carrying the gentle rumble of raindrops, and the hope in Sarah-Ellen’s eyes wrenched Cassie’s gut.

“I’d like him more if I didn’t have to sleep in the barn every night so you could sneak him in,” Cassie said, letting go of her sister’s hand and pulling the blankets over her head. 

It was dark under the soft lambswool, as if she were hidden inside a cloud. A gentle tug at the corner interrupted her peace.

“Did you want to share the room with Jack and I?” Sarah-Ellen asked. 

Cassie shook her head vehemently. “He snores, I can hear it from the barn.”

“Of course you can.” She yawned loudly, tugging once more on the blanket.

Relenting, Cassie exited her cocoon. “Don’t you find his snoring annoying?” 

Sarah-Ellen scrunched the blanket in her hand. “No worse than the snoring I’ve put up with for seventeen winters now.” 

Cassie gave her a look over the edge of her pillow. “You know, Sarah-Ellen, you’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.” 

“You’re right, little sister.” A smile split the older girl’s lips. “I’m far cleverer than even I know.” She tapped the tip of Cassie’s nose. “But I’m not half as clever as I know you are.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “You think you can just flatter me into doing what you say?”

Sarah-Ellen shook her head. “Of course not. I intend to bribe you as well.”

Cassie rubbed her eyes. It was too early to navigate deals with her sister. Regardless of her claimed innocence, Sarah-Ellen had a habit of getting the larger share.

“What do you have left to bribe me with?” Cassie scratched a hand through her hair, enjoying the sensation of her fingertips grazing her scalp. “You’re already so deep in debt to me you’ll be doing my chores for the rest of the season.”

“I’ll thread a hundred ribbons into your braid,” Sarah-Ellen offered.

A heaviness gripped her chest. It had been years since either of them had worn ribbons in their hair. “I’m not a child anymore,” Cassie muttered.

Sorrow drifted over Sarah-Ellen’s face. “No, you’re not.” She shook her head. “But it feels strange to say that you’re a woman now.”

Cassie didn’t like the seriousness in her sister’s eyes. “Even stranger than you being an old maid?” 

A peal of laughter left Sarah-Ellen. “Calling me an old maid, I’ve only seen a winter more than you. Come here.” She lunged forwards, wrapping Cassie in a tight hug. “Little beast.” 

Cassie squealed in surprise, trying to wriggle away, but she was trapped. “Fine.” She accepted the embrace, her heart feeling lighter for it. 

The cattle grumbled below them again, impatient to start their day. Cassie felt the gentle whisper of her sister’s breath on the top of her head, accompanied by the steady beat of her heart. 

Sarah-Ellen released her. “Come on, I need you to help me find the cockerel. Or what’s left of him.” Standing, she offered Cassie a hand, pulling her to her feet.

“Edgar?” Cassie frowned. “Won’t he be in the hutch for the storm?”

Sarah-Ellen began to roll up the blankets, hiding the pillows in the centre. “He got out again.” She stowed the sheets at the back of the hayloft, hidden from prying eyes. “Or a fox got him.”

“I’m sure he’s alright.” Cassie searched the straw, finding her dress hidden amongst the brittle golden strands. “He’s like that escape artist that came with the player’s troupe last summer.”

A frown creased Sarah-Ellen’s brow. “The one that almost drowned in the glass cage?”

“He survived, remember.” Cassie brushed straw and grey cat hair off her dress. “Just like Edgar always survives when the foxes come to visit.”