Messenger

“Deirna, mother’s calling.”

I glanced behind me at the warm familiar voice sounded behind me, a welcome contrast to hear besides the howling wind of winter that accompanied it. Shuffling inside for a moment was Benji’s hunched head enclosed in layers and layers of thick, rough fabric, leaving only his mop of brown hair – the same color as mine – displayed. Here, in this day and age, those who resembled the dirt seemed fated to work it.

“What now?” I muttered, my solemn gaze returning to the same sight that consumed my every day. Rough calloused hands that had been worked to the bone, my hands. I bent down to pick up another bundle of firewood, preparing for the export tomorrow.

“Supper,” Ben replied hesitantly, and I only shook my head. I could feel his nervous energy fill the air. “Deirna,” he began, his tone becoming instantly softer in an effort to soothe the bitter taste in my mouth. It felt like I could already taste the dry sand that was our dinner every night. “You know she doesn’t mean to…”

I dropped the bundle suddenly, hearing it land on the hay matted floor of the barn. It was not his job to make excuses for her. We both knew that. Benji stopped talking at the thud of the logs and I turned around with a soft smile forced on my face. “It’s okay Benji,” I nodded, smiling tensely. “I’ll be there soon. I want to finish up here.”

Looking at my little brother always seemed to hurt, seeing those beautiful and trying eyes. Unlike the rest of the family, he seemed blessed with a honeyed hazel gaze that always seemed warm despite the harshness of winter. I knew that it was his burning hope for a better future someday, somewhere, and to be honest, it hurt me to see gaze get dimmer each day. Yet, I would be lost the moment that fire was diminished. So, I had to keep smiling.

Benji nodded with a matching smile, one that spoke of affection that can only happen between siblings. A knowing of each other’s minds. Drawing his body back into a ball, he clicked open the barn door and headed back towards the house that glowed in the distance. Well, more like a hut. Faintly, I could hear the crunch of his worn boots on the snow behind him.

As I bent down to retrieve the bundle of firewood, a loud fluttering sent my heart jarring as I jolted. Inhaling sharply, I immediately looked up. The quick snap of my neck caused a searing soreness to already appear, but my eyes did not have to wait long find the culprit.

“It’s a bird,” I groaned, closing my eyes in relief. My heart beat so loud for a long minute, and I kept my hand on my chest. When my heart became its bitter calm again, I glared up at where the owl perched on a beam. Against the backdrop of rotting wood and faint lighting from the fire keeping me company, it seemed out of place. The owl did not bother to look at me, probably because I was too insignificant to get even a beautiful bird’s attention. I scoffed, bending back down and shaking my head. “Just a stupid bird.”

“How rude. And untrue, we’re known to be wise after all.”

I blinked once. Then twice. Bent close to the ground with my back to the door, I was in the worst possible position to deal with a robber. Taking a shaky breath, I lurched for the rusted iron pitchfork I kept near me for reasons like this. The cold grip seemed to burn my hands as I turned, aiming towards the door to see no one there. I frowned. I definitely heard someone.

“Come out!”

As I scanned the small barn, I narrowed my eyes as no intruder was found. There was a feeling in the air, one of waiting. Like someone was playing with me, waiting quietly for the moment when I would relax.

Tough chance. Clearing my throat, I gripped the heavy pitchfork tighter to my body. My forearms were already beginning to burn from holding it.

Another bout of fluttering interrupted the silence inside the barn as a flash of white zipped past me gracefully, causing me to flinch. I stepped back, eyeing the owl that was very much paying attention now to me. Its dark mirrored eyes seemed to watch me passively, but the cock of its head seemed almost… human.

I started to smile in disbelief at my own thoughts. “No way,” I scoffed, laughing breathlessly. Perhaps, 22 years of starvation were finally catching up with me and I was already going mad from hunger. Dropping the pitchfork without reserve, I eyed the staring bird. Now that it was closer, I realized what looked strange about the owl. Barn owls usually had some brown feathers on their wings with a golden-brown crown upon their heads. However, the only shade of color was the latter on this specific bird, its golden crown quite bright in the fire glow.

It acted like it knew it too, the way it just continued to watch. For some reason, I was starting to get a little ticked off. Biting my lip, I turned around and picked up the firewood, finally hauling it to the cart near the entrance. The owl’s head followed my movements, back and forth, as I repeated the action for several minutes. Mother was going to be furious with how long I was taking. Sighing, I threw the last bundle into the cart and turned to face the bird once again.

This time, it was gone. I looked back towards the entrance, feeling a queasiness in my stomach. A glance up above did not yield a sight of it either. Now that I thought about it, “How did it get in the first place?”

“The lock on the loft’s window is broken,” a soft voice whispered by my ear. “You should get that fixed.”

I screamed. Trying to run forward, I feel my foot bend awkwardly and the ground seemed steadily approaching till a strong hand wrapped around my arm with long fingers. My voice seemed to then escape me as I pushed against the chest of whoever was holding me, detaching myself from his hold immediately. I created some distance fast before turning to see a man standing where the owl once stood. A naked man.

“Oh the Gods,” I gasped, forcing my eyes away as the man chuckled strangely, his laughter broken by little silences, sounding animalistic.

“Not quite, more like a messenger really.” I coughed awkwardly as the man spoke, his voice sounding higher for a man of his size, almost half a ruler taller than me who was one of the tallest in the village. Realizing why I was staying silent, he added nonchalantly, “Oh, my apologies, now I’m the one being rude. I’m afraid wings don’t carry clothing.”

My eyes widened as I stared stubbornly at the floor beside me while I took a shaky step back. I could not run nor turn away with a stranger in the barn, but his bareness was enough reason to keep him in the blurred peripheral view. What I could not help but really notice was the long length of the man’s hair, almost a shade of white despite the soft golden gleam it had in the fire that was burning a little low. Where did I put that pitchfork?

“You’re looking for this?”

Human instinct took over as I flinched back after seeing a sharp black coming at me, stopping right before my face. Instantly, I looked right back at him with our eyes snapping back into a connected gaze. Like the owl before, his eyes were a glassy black, a pupil barely visible. The man had only a soft smile as he held the pitchfork in his pale hand. My gaze followed the pitchfork’s sharp tips to the one hand he used to aim it at me. One hand. How?

“Uh-Uh—” I stuttered, trying to take another step back with the fear he would follow through. I could barely hear my voice, it was so lowly cracked, “Who are you?”

The man smiled charmingly, pearly white teeth accompanying his otherworldly visage. “Like I said, a messenger.” While his tone was kind, there was a dancing mirth in his eyes that indicated something otherwise.

The words rushed out before I could stop them. “I don’t really need any messages so…”

There was silence before the man slowly raised a brow, almost in disbelief at the haughty implication of my words. Trust me, I was cringing too. I took another step back, and the man let me, as if in deep thought himself. Yet, the silent rise and fall of chest indicated he was actually laughing and if I listened closely, it definitely sounded as chirpy and light like an owl. I think it was time to go.

Spinning on my heel, I ran towards the door. Immediately, I regretted the heavy clothing around my chest, seeming to grow tighter with every panicked breath I took. As the cold iron handle of the barn door met my fingers, the door jolted hard from incredible force as the pitchfork impaled the wood beside my head. A small scream escaped me as I looked beside me, the rusted iron up close and personal. He was trying to kill me!

“Oh, the Gods, I’m not dying here, not in the barn,” I whimpered as I heaved the door open, heavier with the pitchfork in it.

“You’re being quite difficult right now,” the man’s amused voice murmured as I felt his arm snake around my stomach, tugging me back out of the winter and into the fleeting warmth of the barn. “Now just wait a—”

“Get. Off. Me!” I screamed, turning to hit the man away. In that moment, the only thing I could think about was the fact that this bizarre stranger’s anatomy was quite close.

“Just. Calm. Down!” The man shouted over me and wrapped his fingers around my flying fists. “Deirna, please! It is about your brother.”

At the sound of my name coming from his lips, I stared up at his dark eyes in shock. In that moment I took to pause, he quickly shut the door behind me and forced me still against it. However, I did notice that he did not touch me more than necessary and I kept my eyes up and leveled to avoid acknowledging what was in close proximity.

With only my shaky breath, I finally broke the quiet, “What about Benji?”

Even as I mentioned my brother’s name, the familiar fire to protect him laced my words. My mother knew that hardness in my tone well. It seemed this man noticed it too. The smooth porcelain of his face settled, and I was met with the uncomfortable image of how unblemished his face looked compared to mine. Now, when I thought about it, he did look strangely like the priests of this land, those rumored with power to deliver the word of the Gods.

“When the first of spring comes, move your family to Hartnell. Your brother will fall ill mid-season and any time later would be too late. He will be cured in Hartnell and you’ll find comfort.”

I stared. The man softly smiled, his long hair seeming to dance in invisible wind. Slowly, he stepped back. “How strange,” he cocked his head and blinked, much like an owl. “For his sake, you’re willing to actually believe.” There seemed to be age entering his eye, dating him older than I thought he seemed. “Good for you.”

“How do you…” I started but felt his warm hand come over my face, forcing my eyes closed.

“Live well.” I kept my eyes closed and only opened them when I heard the departing flutter of wings.