[Aster]
The morning light, a soft, grayish hue filtering through the gaps in the wooden shutters, found Aster sitting at the table in that same small room that was both a kitchen and a living room, with those same woolens that hugged everything below his waist in a way no boy should ever be hugged, and that same tunic with a silly, curly bottom. Beneath the woolens was a small, delicate white something that he tried his best not to think about, the faint outline of which showed with every little move of his legs.
His sister and mother sat to his left, and like him, they looked no different from yesterday, in their new winter dresses of brown and dark green that ran all the way down to their ankles. Knitted socks peeked out from beneath the dresses, warm and cozy. The only difference from their yesterday selves was that he and Silvia didn't have headscarves on, but had their hair done in pretty, matching braids that hid their pointy ears just as well. They had a lot of time for that during the night.
Despite having an incredibly soft bed of furs to sleep in, they didn't get much rest. Caves and forests, they knew how to sleep anywhere, but not in someone else's home, with strangers just a curtain away. They spent most of the night tossing and turning, listening to the storm outside, anything but sleeping. When the morning finally came, they just gave up on it and instead had their hair done for the upcoming day. Even Nivalis had hers braided under her headscarf, in case something were to happen to it.
The three of them looked tired beyond words, with shadows under their eyes, faces even paler than usual, and slouched shoulders... and yet, there was still someone to find beauty in that. Every single movement of Aster, even as simple as scratching his nose, was followed by brown eyes from the other end of the table, belonging to a boy with messy dark hair named Tobias—a smaller, softer version of his father. He just kept staring, making the boy in panties blush and squirm in his seat more and more.
Aster ignored that part of the table with everything he had, as well as a muffled chuckle that came from Silvia, turning instead to see Margaret come in with their breakfast. "Here we go," the woman said in a quiet, cheerful tone, carrying a clay jar in one hand and a big loaf of dark bread in the other.
With a kind smile on her face, she placed everything on the table where six wooden cups and a knife were already waiting. "Got us a bit of goat milk from the neighbors, straight from the teat," she whispered as she began pouring steamy, foaming liquid into each cup, while Hagen, sitting near his son, did the cutting duty.
In under a minute, everyone had a cup of that warm milk before them, each with a generous slice of dark bread beside it. A breakfast as simple as they come. Never having tasted it before, Aster and Silvia both wrinkled their noses at the mention of goat milk, and even more so at the strong smell of it. "Just give it a try, girls. You'll like it," Margaret whispered to them, seeing their hesitant faces. "They never...?" she asked Nivalis, who quietly shook her head.
With a small bit of hesitation, the two of them took a careful, reluctant sip at the same time, their eyes meeting over the rim of the cups. Both had their noses soften at the same moment when the milk touched their tongues. It was sweet and creamy, despite the weird smell. Then, small bites of dark bread followed, and it tasted good. "See? It's not so bad. And it's good for young girls, makes your chest grow," Margaret hushed with a soft smile, pleased that they liked it.
That last bit instantly brought hope to Silvia's face and made her gulp down the milk twice as fast, pretty much inhaling it. Aster, on the other hand, almost choked on his bread. Both earned a little pat on the back from their mother, one to slow down and the other to breathe. "Thank you for this, Margaret. It's very good," Nivalis eventually said after the two calmed down and she took a few sips of her own.
"My pleasure, dear," Margaret hushed back, taking a bite of her bread while Hagen did the same. Everyone did, and a nice, quiet minute of just munching and sipping passed by. It wasn't until they were all about halfway through their breakfast that she spoke again. "Once we've finished here, I'll take you three to see Mother Anne, to talk about the house, and maybe ask if she has any coats left for you," the woman said, looking at the three of them.
Nivalis set her cup down, a nervous look on her face. "Alright..." she breathed, then gave her children a quick glance, only to see them both having milk mustaches on their pale faces. That brought the smile back to hers, her thumb gently wiping the white streaks off. As she did, she said to Margaret, "...yeah, sounds good."
A tiny grunt came from the other side of the table at the sight of the silver-haired beauty with white streaks on her lips.
Noticing how tense Nivalis got at her words, Margaret muttered, "Don't you worry, I'll do all the talking. She might be a bit strict and likes things done her way, but when it comes to things that matter, she's always there to help. No matter what." Hagen simply nodded at her side. After taking another bite of her bread, she added, "You just stay close to me, and we'll get through it just fine. Oh, and when she tries to wed you off to her son, just say no. No 'maybe' or 'I'll think about it,' just a firm 'no.' Trust me on that one... she'll start sending you gifts otherwise."
Aster's brow furrowed at that last bit, his hand disappearing beneath the table to find the softness of his mother's thigh. He gave her a look that spoke volumes about what he thought of her being married off to some old man—or anyone, really. A little squeeze on the back of his hand and a small, reassuring smile was her answer, after which she turned to Margaret and said, "Yeah, I-I... my girls are my everything right now, I don't think... I'm not ready for anything like that yet."
Margaret nodded at that, understanding completely. "That's what I thought. The house will be perfect for you, a bit away from the rest of the village, so no one will bother you much." Her words brought shy, hopeful smiles to their sleepy faces, but neither of them said anything in response, and with that, the conversation died. Everyone returned to their breakfast, chewing and sipping in the quiet comfort of the small house.
A few minutes were all it took to finish everything on the table. Aster ended up giving away a good third of his milk to Silvia, not by his choice but because "she needed it more," and that was the end of that argument. Being good guests, the three of them helped clear the table, washing the cups in a small tub of water, and then it was already time to go. Everyone but Hagen and Tobias went to the entrance.
Shoes, one by one, found their way onto their feet and were tied tightly, three incredibly worn-out pairs and one of fine leather. "She's probably at the hearthworks right now, so let's go there first. If not, we'll check her home," Margaret said as she stepped back into the house. Before the words had even fully left her mouth, she was already back, her arms full with three furs—the very ones they had slept on. "This won't be a long walk, but the wind still bites," she hushed, draping one over each of their shoulders. For herself, she only put on her coat, not bothering with a knit cap or scarf.
They were heavy, so much so that Silvia's knees almost buckled under the weight, but also incredibly warm and soft to wear. Shy hums of thanks and the creak of the door were the last sounds in the house as they stepped outside, into the gray morning of Lonecandle.
Snow covered everything, the entire yard and the village beyond it, with more of it still falling from the heavy, dark clouds above. The wind roared just like it had for almost a week, the snowflakes it carried whipping at their faces and sticking to their furs. "Follow me, girls," Margaret hushed over the noise, and they did, trudging through the thigh-deep snow in a single line, leaving behind a small home that smelled faintly of milk.
Wooden houses, one after another, appeared from the swirl of white on their left and right. All looked similar to each other, made of pine logs and roofed with straw, with snow piled against their walls and plumes of smoke rising from their chimneys. Aster was the last in line and, with his wool-covered legs disappearing into the white again and again, couldn't stop gawking at everything around him like a child seeing the world for the first time. It was pretty much the case.
Not very often, as the memories weren't pleasant, but Silvia and Nivalis did sometimes talk about their old village, about what it was like. All these years, he had this image in his head of what one might look like, of wooden houses and winding streets, fences, gates, and the like, of pines dotted all around... and here it was. Just like that, like stepping into a half-remembered dream. "This is so cool," the boy found himself whispering to Silvia again and again, with the girl nodding and giggling at him every single time.
They even spotted a dog in someone's yard, just sleeping there with a rope around its neck, its brown fur covered in a light dusting of snow. An actual, incredibly fluffy dog! Silvia nearly climbed over the fence to pet it, but Aster quickly pulled her back by the sleeve of her dress and made her keep walking, ignoring her little protests.
Then people began to appear, something Aster had completely forgotten could happen. He tensed when shapes of them showed from the swirling haze, moving towards them through the snow. An old, heavily bundled-up woman with a cane, a couple of men carrying logs, a small girl dragging a sled by a rope—all paused and stared as they passed by, their eyes wide and curious, but not unkind.
Most of them gave a quiet nod to Margaret and a small, hesitant smile to the three strangers she was leading, their gazes lingering on their silver hair and braids for a bit too long before they continued on their way. Nivalis and Silvia looked uneasy at that, but not as much as Aster did. Burning things, a bit of singing if the mood is right, and naughty stuff? That was his thing. People? Not so much.
Noticing the tense shoulders, Margaret hushed, "Don't you worry. Everyone's just curious, is all. We don't get new faces here that often." That did help a little, but Aster still found himself shuffling closer to Silvia and taking her hand in his, almost pressing his wool-covered thigh into hers.
After a few more minutes of trudging through the snow and enduring all the curious, lingering looks from the villagers, Margaret finally slowed down in front of a house. Little different from the others they had passed, perhaps just slightly larger and with more light filtering through its shutters, but that's about it. "Here we are," she whispered, and went straight to the door. The small family followed, sighs of relief leaving them as she opened the heavy thing, and they were able to hide from all the attention.
The relief didn't last very long. A warm, cozy room, smelling faintly of pine, greeted them on the other side, filled to the brim with women of every look and age. Young girls with messy braids and freckled faces, older ladies with wrinkles around their eyes and knowing smiles, mothers and daughters, grandmothers and granddaughters. More than two dozen of them, sitting in chairs or on the floor, some on benches, some on furs by the big fireplace, with yarn and fabric all around them.
Every single one of them was busy with something in their hands—knitting, sewing, weaving, or embroidering—and as one, their heads lifted, and their gazes fell upon the three silver-haired strangers at the door. Everyone went quiet, the needles and hooks stopping mid-stitch, eyes wide with the same kind of curiosity they had seen outside. "Mother Anne's here today?" Margaret asked, taking off her coat and hanging it on the hook by the door, while the three of them just stood there, awkwardly, all bundled up in their furs.
An old woman, with a kind face and hair even more silver than theirs, raised her wrinkled hand from her spot by the fire, surrounded by the youngest of the girls. "Always am, child. The day I skip the hearthwork is the day I die," she hushed, putting her knitting aside and looking curiously at the strangers, eyes of grey meeting blue and golden ones. "And these pretty things are?"
"This is... Nivalis and her daughters," Margaret said, helping her out of the heavy fur she wore on her delicate shoulders, before moving to the children standing at her sides. "Silvia," she whispered, uncovering the golden-eyed girl and her pretty braids, and lastly, "...and Asteria. Very pretty names." Soft woolens and a curly tunic were revealed to every woman in the room, to every eye there was, making Aster want to just die on the spot. Even the worst of nightmares, the kind that leaves you in a cold sweat, felt more pleasant than this.
"Hagen and I found them at the old farm last night, hiding in a barn from the storm in nothing but rags, eating rotten grain. We took them in, and Tessa helped me clothe them, but..." she trailed off, letting the room fill with a few gasps and whispers of "Poor dears." Some noticed scarred hands that Aster hid in his sleeves, frowning at the sight. Margaret noticed that and was quick to add a simple, "Husband's a trouble." Frowns instantly turned into disapproving shakes of heads, and the whispers grew louder.
Anne was among those few shaking their heads. "Come here, dear, let's have a chat," she sighed to Nivalis, motioning for her to join her by the fire, then gave a look to everyone around, "Back to your work, ladies. There's still much to be done before the snow melts." A few claps of her hands followed, and the room once again filled with the soft clinking of needles and women's quiet chatter, with some occasionally sneaking glances their way. A lot of them did.
After taking off their shoes, Margaret and the three of them shuffled towards the fireplace, trying their best not to bump into anyone along the way. "It's a shame what some men do," Anne whispered to Nivalis as soon as her knitted socks met the soft furs, her wrinkled hands patting the space next to her for her to sit.
When Aster and Silvia moved to sit down as well, she stopped them with a soft, "This conversation isn't for young ears, I'm afraid." Her kind eyes crinkled at the corners as she motioned around the room, "Why don't you go explore around a little, maybe get something to eat from the tables at the corner? There should be some honey buns left." Then, she looked at all the little ones around her and added, "And you lot, go see if your mothers need any help. Show them what we just learned."
"Yes, Mother Anne," came a chorus of little voices, all high and eager as the girls scrambled to their feet, darting in every direction toward their mothers. Aster's mouth opened to protest, not wanting to leave his alone with strangers, but a single look from her stopped him before he could even make a sound. "It's alright, sweetie. I'll be fine," Nivalis whispered, settling onto the furs beside the old woman, the firelight licking at her pale face.
They looked at each other, at her, and at the room full of women before a hesitant hum left their lips. Before they knew it, Aster and Silvia found themselves standing in a sea of women and yarn, all alone and unsure of what to do. "Let's keep Mom in our sight, and just..." Silvia whispered after a few awkward shuffles, her gaze shifting between one face and another. "...just try to not look too weird," she added, taking his hand in hers and gently pulling him to where one of the girls had gone, to the tables at the far end of the room.
Soft chatter, quiet giggles, and the clicking of needles and hooks came from all around them as they wove through the room. Many of the women smiled at them, some even waved, and all had the same look of curiosity in their eyes. Aster kept looking back at the fire, where Margaret and Anne were talking in low voices, with their mother just nodding along. Every so often, her blue eyes lifted from the flames, meeting his for just a heartbeat, and then went back to the old woman.
It wasn't until they reached the tables that he finally tore his gaze away, when the scent of something sweet hit his nose. Honey buns, just as promised, were neatly arranged in a wicker basket, covered by a thin cloth. Empty cups and jugs, wooden plates and bowls were all around with nothing but crumbs in them, all waiting to be cleaned. "They do smell good," Silvia whispered and, with a small, polite nod to a few women sitting nearby, took one for herself.
Aster grabbed two; one went straight to his mouth, and the other he tucked into Silvia's dress pockets with words, "For mom, later," muffled by a mouthful of sweet bread. A hum of approval left his sister at that, who then took a bite of hers as well. They were warm, soft, and dripping with honey on each bite, forcing them to be careful not to make a mess of their clothes.
After a few more nibbles, they spotted an empty chair not far from the tables, a bit away from the rest of the women. Silvia gave him that look, that 'c'mon' tilt of her head, and they went for it, their steps quiet against the wood.
The chair was old and creaked angrily when Aster sat on it, then once more when Silvia plopped onto his lap. "This... this hearthwork... was it a thing back in our old village? Why do they need so many clothes?" he asked in a whisper after he swallowed another bite, his golden eyes looking around the room, at all the women and all their yarn.
Before Silvia could even think of an answer, one found its way to them in a soft, friendly tone, "We sell them, mostly." Looking up, they saw a girl not much older than themselves approaching, skinny yet with round cheeks, brown hair done in pigtails, bouncing as she dragged a wooden chair of her own behind her. A simple dress that matched her hair, with a few embroidered flowers near the collar, hugged her developing curves.
The girl placed the chair next to theirs, sat down, and continued in a whisper, "There's another village about a day to the north that does a lot of sheep, and we sort of have a deal with them." She pointed with her thumb in a direction Aster was quite sure wasn't north, "Instead of just selling the wool, they give it to us at the end of each autumn, and we spend all winter making things out of it. When merchants start showing up in the spring, we sell those and split the coin. Good for everyone."
For an awkward moment, they just stared at her, with bitten-at honey buns in their hands. Silvia was the one to break that quiet stare, chewing and swallowing her bite before answering, "That's... very smart." Her butt wiggled a bit on Aster's lap as she turned to face the girl.
"Yup. Pretty much every girl in the village does something with the wool. Boys do the hunting, make the furs. Wool and furs... that's kinda our thing," the girl replied, her brown eyes shifting between the two of them, from the matching golden irises to the identical silver braids, lingering for a moment on Aster's tights and curly tunic. "It suits you much better than me. It's our place that Mrs. Margaret came over last night, saying she had found a family in the storm and needed some clothes for two sisters. I guess that would be you," she said, then with a soft smile, added, "Asteria and Silvia, right? My name's Anja. Tessa's my mom."
With a mouthful of the honey bun, Aster nodded, chewing quickly and trying to swallow, but the sweet, sticky bread was being difficult. Silvia was the one to answer instead, "Mhm. It's... nice to meet you, Anja," her own smile showing up, a shy little thing. "Thank you for the clothes; they're very nice. And sorry for the trouble."
Anja just waved her hand at that, "Nah, don't worry about it. Mom promised to get us new stuff in the spring, so it's fine." Anja hushed, then leaned in a bit, her pigtails bouncing as she did, "You're very pretty, both of you. Your hair is... weird, but in a good way. Like moonlight. Mom said it means you're not from around here, though it's kinda obvious by the names alone."
It was then that Aster finally won the fight with the bun, and he had no idea what to say to that. Not even the slightest. When both of them turned their heads and looked at him, expecting some kind of answer, he ended up doing the classic move of taking another bite of the bun, stuffing his cheeks to the brim, and pretending to be very, very busy chewing.
Silvia sighed at him and rolled her eyes, but did end up talking instead of him, "I like your pigtails. They're very pretty." A simple compliment that made a little dimple appear on the girl's cheek. "And yeah, we came from far away. From the northwest." That surprised the girl, as there was nothing but forests in the northwest.
What followed was about ten minutes of easy, light chatter about everything and nothing between the two of them—a girl's talk. Anja told them of her two younger sisters and how they'd been a handful all morning, about how she couldn't wait for spring to come. Silvia told her of Tobias and the looks he kept giving Aster, which caused a fit of giggles and earned her a pinch on the butt.
The entire time, Aster just chewed. It was actually pretty hard, as there wasn't much bun left, but he did a great job of making it seem like there was. His eyes were on his mother for most of it, on the quiet talk between her, Margaret, and Anne by the fire. She didn't look worried or scared, just... thoughtful, which was a good sign. He hoped. He wasn't sure.
Then, she smiled, and he was sure. He saw the words 'thank you' form on her lips, after which both Margaret and she got up from the furs. It took her a moment to find his golden eyes among the crowd, and when she did, she gave him a small, almost invisible nod. Good news. They had a home.
His chewing instantly stopped, and the bit of bun he was working on for the last few minutes got swallowed whole. "They're done," he whispered to Silvia, who was in the middle of telling Anja about a particularly nasty dream she'd had the previous night. She stopped right there, mid-sentence, and turned her attention to the fire, where she saw her mother putting on a coat. She didn't have a coat.
A few words of apology to Anja followed, along with promises to see her later, and they were already on their feet and making their way back to the fire, leaving the girl and her chair behind. They sailed through the women and yarn, and the closer they got to their mother, the brighter her smile grew. When they reached her, a quiet, "We're going to see our home now," was the first thing she said.
That got shy grins out of both of them, with Silvia doing a little bounce on her toes. Margaret was smiling as well, a very pleased one, while Anne just watched them with those kind, grey eyes of hers. "Now go before I change my mind. And get the girls their coats; we should have something in the back," the old woman hushed to Margaret, who then nodded and rushed to the curtain nearby.
Anne's attention shifted back to the two golden-eyed children, her wrinkled hands reaching out to take Aster's scarred ones. His were uglier. "Welcome to Lonecandle, little lambs," she whispered in a soft, motherly tone. "I hope you'll be happy here." Both Aster and Silvia found themselves just nodding at that, words slurring together to the point of being incomprehensible. That only made her smile more.
The next thing he knew, Nivalis led them to the front door, and they were putting their boots back on. "Here you go," came Margaret's hushed voice from behind them, and when Aster turned around, she held coats for him and Silvia to wear. Brown and warm, and with patches on the elbows, both looked much like the one their mother already wore, but smaller.
They slipped into them, murmuring their thanks as they did, then once more when they were helped with the laces at the front. Silvia ended up looking funny in hers as it was a bit too big for her small frame, the sleeves flopping over her hands, but she didn't seem to mind at all. Aster's fit him much better, snugly around the chest and reaching just past his knees, hiding most of the shame he wore beneath it. "Ready, girls?" Margaret asked, and they all nodded, stepping outside into the white world; Silvia did manage to wave a floppy sleeve at Anja, who waved back from the same place in the corner.
It was cold—awfully, terribly cold. But none of them felt any of it with how warm their coats were. Silvia beamed from beneath the fluffy hood of it, brighter than the sun would have been if it had broken through the dark clouds above. "Gods, this is amazing. I'd kiss whoever made these," she whispered in that same childish glee he had had when they were walking through the village earlier, her steps all funny and awkward as the heavy coat messed with her balance.
Aster couldn't help but chuckle at that, and he wasn't the only one. "Hagen did, at the start of the winter. Guess I'll have to let him know that there's a pretty lass who wants to steal him away," Margaret hushed over the wind, making the girl blush and shake her head furiously. That caused even more chuckles from everyone.
More people were outside now that the morning wasn't as early, all busy with their own things. Men with shovels clearing paths through the snow, women carrying frozen laundry from the lines, children helping them against their will. Sounds of laughter and angry yells, of axes chopping wood and gates creaking open, were heard all around.
With the silver locks mostly hidden away in the furs now, not many of those curious looks came their way as they passed, but a few still did. When they reached the edge of the village, even those disappeared, and only the howling wind and creaking trees were there to greet them.
A small path, barely visible with how much snow there was, led them away from the wooden houses and the smoke and into the pines. Further and further it went, winding between the dark trunks and bushes until, in the distance, a small house appeared. A blurry shape of one, tucked between the fluffy trees and almost buried under the winter. "There it is," Margaret said, and that made them all shuffle a bit faster. The closer they got, the clearer they could see the house.
It was bad. Moments away from someone green stepping out with a kick at a door and screaming, "Somebody once told me," the kind of bad. A small thing made of dark logs, with a chimney that tilted at an odd angle, and a roof that barely held under the weight of all the snow piled on it. One window was boarded up instead of having shutters, and the door creaked with every gust of wind, as if it were in pain.
And yet... and yet, they smiled at the sight of it. Smiled when they walked through the fence and into the yard, with snow almost up to their hips. When they stepped up to the porch and onto the creaky wood, and when the door was pushed open with a shove of a shoulder. And even when they walked inside and saw the cold, dusty interior, they still smiled. Smiled because it looked like home.