The scene haunting and surreal appeared in front of my eyes: a crowd of women gathered in front of the barn. They were rambling around with no purpose. The first hint of sunrise touched the sky and enveloped their bodies in the soft dusty light. Their breath formed clouds in the air as they stood there blankly staring in front of themselves. All these women, young and old, tall and short—all so different, yet they all looked the same—a grey lot of empty shells.
A horse whinnied in the distance and I jumped, ready to scream, when Zaira's hand covered my mouth.
She dragged me towards the back of the barn.
"What in Dagda's name!?"
"Sh…" Zaira whispered.
I looked around and tugged her towards my house. The streets were still empty. Hollow echo rolling out from our footsteps. The dread of the scene was tagging along with us, stepping on our heels, breathing down our necks.
I shut my house door as soon as we tumbled inside, cutting off the ardent chaser.
The heat from the kid's heart was enough to warm up the kitchen a little. So I took off my coat and invited Zaira to sit at the table. I rubbed my cheeks, trying to come to my senses and process what I have just seen.
"I remember it like it was yesterday. It was my first week in the village and I was walking past the barn to get some herbs for Tim's tea, so he would heal faster. He's always sick, you know. These women, they were like puppets, all dressed and clean, but… empty? It was… I don't know. I was so stunned that I didn't notice the pastor approaching me from the back… Apparently, men were using the same road to return from their Sunday prayer in the woods."
She swallowed heavily.
"This was the first time the pastor hit me…"
I gasped.
"I fell to the ground. He started preaching about my devilish curiosity, about my sins and disobedience. And Zeon did nothing… Just stood there, staring at me with disapproval. In our ten years of marriage, I have never seen such an expression on his face, you know? I tell you what: that man is not my husband anymore. I don't know what happens to them in the woods, but we, the two of us, should run. Run from this place as far as we can…"
Chilling fear purred down my spine as I listened to Zaira. I did fell the same.
"I saw your magic, you know," Zaira confessed after a moment of silence. "And it's amazing! You are one of the strongest witches I have ever seen."
"Wait, you are a witch, too?" I was surprised as I didn't feel any energy coming from her.
"Barely. Enough for a small cauldron of healing tea, but not enough to survive a walk through a winter forest. Makes it easier to hide, you know. But I don't think we can trick the priest. The way he is looking at me sometimes. Bad, hungry… We should run as soon as Zef gets better. Will you help me? Please?"
I caught myself nodding.
"Sure. I am in. I will tell Atti to pack and get ready when he comes."
"No!" she grabbed my hand. "Do not trust your man. Not after he comes back from whatever they do in that forest. They are different after their first prayer."
"But I can't just leave him here."
Even a thought of abandoning my husband in this cult felt sickening.
"You will see. They will be back soon. Remember my words and tell me when you are ready to go. Trust me, the sooner, the better."
After Zaira rushed out of the room, I couldn't help but feel puzzled as I contemplated her words. I wondered if I could ever leave my husband, especially if I noticed a change in him. But I pushed those thoughts aside and got up from the seat, my mind turning to my morning chores. I started the fire, set up the table, cooked eggs and grits, and woke up the kids.
When Atti came back from the prayer, I couldn't help but observe him. Suspicion and uncertainty were contaminating. I watched closely the way he held the kids, the tone of his voice, the way he smiled. Everything seemed the same. I couldn't find any changes by the time when we finally settled for the night.
When he wished me good night, a warm smile lit up his face and his embrace was as comforting as ever. The heavy feeling that had weighed on me since the morning slowly lifted from my shoulders. Atti was still the same man I knew and loved.
***
As Monday dawned, I gathered the clothes and linen that we received as donations. Elisa escorted me to the laundry spot, and even helped me carry the heavy baskets.
The village seemed so normal in the light of the day. The cobbled streets were slick with frost. Wooden houses surrounded me with thatched roofs. Their inviting warmth a stark contrast to the crisp air of the winter morning.
The sight of the laundry house came into view. A large wooden structure was close to the water's edge. Wide-open windows allowed the steam from the boiling cauldrons to escape. The sound of the river rushing by, and the splashing of water from the building reached us. The scent of lye soap and wet linen hung in the air.
The whiff of cold, wet air pierced through my clothes, numbing my fingers and stiffening my back. The weight of the clothes made my arms ache. The thought of submerging my hands in the icy water for the entire day without being able to ease this task with magic weighed heavy on my shoulders. It sucked the energy out of me before we even started. This will be a long day.
The few men that went out to greet me and Elisa circled us like guards. And they made no attempt to help us carry heavy baskets . Their stern eyes followed our every move as we settled inside.
Elisa introduced me to some of the other women in the group. Zaira was already there. Her face was bearing fresh bruises. I wanted to ask what happened, but she turned to the opposite wall as soon as she noticed me.
The laundry house filled up with the sounds of sloshing water and the occasional muffled grumble. After we started working, the only words spoken in the building were strictly utilitarian.
As I soaked our clothes in soapy water, I looked around. I was trying to place women's faces and recall if I had seen them yesterday.
It's always nice to have company while doing chores. How is your family, Marta? What do you all like to do while you're doing laundry? I usually enjoy sing to pass the time. Are you using that washboard, Annie? - All my attempts to catch someone's eye and engage in small talk were ignored.
When passing by, Zaira looked me in the eye and shook her head. With her eyes, she pointed towards men that started to take an interest in my eagerness. Zeon shot me a disapproving gaze before transferring his heavy stare back to his wife. I got it. I shall keep quiet.
I trailed after Zaira, trying to keep up with her as she went to rinse her bed linens in the river. My heart was heavy with worry, as I couldn't help but stare at the deep bruise on her face. I came closer, eager to ask about it. But the moment I came close to the river, I felt a strange, hostile magic radiating from the water. The sensation washed over and my skin crawled with goosebumps.
A loud male voice pierced the silence, and brought me back to reality. I turned to see what was happening.
Zaira was standing at the riverbank, pale as the surrounding snow. Zeon and two other men were pushing her into the water. They were pointing at the fabric that got caught on the tree roots not far from the shore. She stepped forward and my heart sank to my stomach. Please don't go into that water.
Zaira attempted to retrieve the linens with a stick from the safety of the shore. But it was too far. The men pushed her in the back.
Numbness crawled up my limbs, as I Zeof shove Zaira further and further into the stream. Her clothes soaking up the moisture and her body shaking from the cold. I transferred my angry gaze to her husband and other men.
My blood pulsed in my ears in a deafening beat. My thoughts bump into each other in a desperate attempt to find a way to help the woman.
But I just stood there, paralyzed by the sheer idea of stepping into the water filled with the sickening magic.
When Zaira started her way out, I raced to take the stiff piece of fabric from her shivering hands.
Her skin was pale, almost translucent. Her eyes were blank, making her look like one of the puppet-women that surrounded us. I wrapped my warm shawl around Zaira's shoulders, but it got wet in seconds, bringing no relief.
"Go home and change…"
"Quiet, woman!" Zeon yelled at me. "I decide what she will do here."
"If she goes down coughing up blood, who will take care of your son?" I asked, keeping my eyes down.
We stood awkwardly. Only the sound of Zaira's teeth clacking was breaking through the gargling of water. I felt Zeon's heavy gaze on me, too afraid to raise my eyes from the snow. I didn't want to be shoved in the water, too.
"Fine, go home and start on dinner, wife."
Watching Zaira shuffling towards the village was hard. As if reading my mind, her husband placed a firm hand on my shoulder, digging his fingers into my skin. I wanted to scream for him to let go of me. But couldn't push out a sound past my numb lips.
A knot had formed in my chest, twisting and tightening until I couldn't breathe. The urgency to leave this place made me feel like I was standing at the edge of a cliff.
Later that evening, I finally worked up the courage to speak to Atti.
"Ari, you look very tense. Did something happen?"
"Love, you always trusted my gut feeling, right? I never lied, never mistaken before. Right… Something terrible is going to happen if we stay. Please, let's leave tomorrow. Everything in me is telling we must leave."
"We are not leaving in the middle of the winter, Ari. We discussed this. You remember how it was in the forest with kids? You thought about Art. It's only for the winter. We've survived worse."
"I saw how people change around here. This place is doing something to the minds. How men are treating women? Yesterday I saw the merchant, Bruno, doing awful things to Galahad's wife, and she just stood there. Like a doll. Everyone just ignored it!"
I was careful not to mention Zaira, as for some reason he disliked the woman.
"You must have misunderstood. Bruno is a good friend of Enoch and Galahad. Besides, where would we go, my dove? All nearby villages we know of are aware of us and black death. We won't survive alone in the forest."
A moment of silence felt heavy, drowning.
"Common on, my dove. It's not a big deal. This is a great place, and maybe we finally will be able to settle. It's not a good thing to raise our children on the constant run!"
I couldn't argue with that logic, but this was not a good place! The hopelessness of the situation pushed on my chest.
"Just wait a little, just for the winter," Atti kept repeating.