Chapter Two

At breakfast the next morning, the woman in gray came to Jira and asked how old she was. The woman looked the same as she had the day before, and the harshness in her voice startled Jira into silence.

“She doesn’t know,” Oni said. “She lost all of her memories. She told you that, didn’t she?”

The woman glared at Oni, then said to Jira, “You look eight. You’ll be cleaning sheets in the basement.”

Jira scowled at the woman’s back as she turned and stalked off. “Miss Veith isn’t a pleasant woman…”

“That wasn’t Miss Veith,” Oni said. “She died six years ago. That was Miss Garner.” She glanced at Jira and saw that she was still scowling. “You aren’t eight, are you?” she whispered so the other children around them wouldn’t hear. They were loud and were throwing little pebbles at each other and wouldn’t have heard Oni anyway.

“No,” Jira said. “I’m ten.”

“Be glad she thought you were eight. Ten year-olds go outside and tend to the yard.”

“What yard is there to tend to?” Jira asked, stirring her porridge, if one could call it that. It was a gray, disgusting lump with milk poured on top.

“She doesn’t make us work because work has to be done,” Oni explained. “She makes us work so she doesn’t have to deal with us. And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone how old you really are.”

Jira stayed close to Oni over the next two weeks. True to her word, the little girl didn’t tell anyone that Jira was not a murderer. She didn’t ask why Jira was lying, either. Oni began spending less time with Neva and the other girls and more time with Jira. Because of this, Neva began calling Oni a murderer as well. “Birds of a feather flock together,” she would say.

Oni seemed to notice how guilty Jira looked when Neva said those things. “I never really liked her anyway,” she told Jira.

Cleaning the sheets seemed worse than working outside to Jira. The large room was filled with wide, shallow tubs of cold water. It was foggy and the room stank of vomit, urine and something rotting. The sheets were filthy, and often covered in maggots. She had to scrub these sheets clean in the cold, slimy water for most of the day. They started working after breakfast and stopped working for a short break in the afternoon and then kept working until dinner. Her arms were covered in slime from the water and were shaking with the cold by the time she was done. The whole room was so cold that her soaked arms began to frost over before she even reached the stairs.

Oni had told her she would get used to it. The younger girl, who was six, dusted the halls every day, though, and had nothing to complain about so Jira only grumbled. It didn’t comfort Jira to know that in two years, Oni would know what the dungeons were like.

They never got any days off, so Jira’s only free time was the small break she had in the middle of the day and the nighttime. She spent both of those times thinking of the wolves. She had named the nice one Silver, for the color of his coat. She didn’t name the other one, for she had no intention of seeing him again. She tried to come up with reasons why one wolf, the larger one, no less, would be kind to her and the other would want her dead. “She isn’t like other humans,” Silver had said. Did he think she was a witch like the children from her old village? If so, then at least he didn’t hate her for it. She tried to find ways to leave the orphanage, but the window in her room wouldn’t open wide enough to let her slip through. She doubted she could climb down, anyway. The front door was always locked at night, and one of Miss Veith’s guards stayed at the door every night anyway.

An idea didn’t come to her until she had been there for nearly two months. She had almost forgotten about her desire to escape. But when she went down into the dungeon one morning to get to work, she was greeted with something that smelled sweet and warm air instead of cold washed over her. She had gotten used to the smell of rot and filth and almost didn’t recognize the smell of lavender.

Her look of amazement made someone laugh. “They change the water every few months. Now, the water is nearly too hot to touch and the soap in it is fresh.” The boy took a deep breath, grinned and then went down the stairs. She followed them down and watched as they all went to the far wall instead of the tubs. The air was humid now, and was much too hot. On the wall were grimy windows that Jira had never noticed before. The boys climbed ladders, wiped the windows and then pushed them open. Cool air came in and everyone set to work. Jira stood there, staring at the windows. They were level with the ground outside and she could see other children meandering about, pulling weeds. She was still on the steps and was looking out the window at an angle that let her see the wall surrounding the yard. It didn’t look that high, and the door to the dungeon was on the opposite side of the front door where the only night guard sat…

“Hey!” someone shouted at her. “You best get to work!”

Jira snapped out of her daze and went to one of the tubs. The water was clear and it burned at first. The air from outside helped cool the water down so after a while it wasn’t too painful. But she wasn’t thinking about the sheets or the water. She was thinking of escape. ‘I’ll get out tonight!’

She didn’t tell Oni her plan. Over the past months they had gotten closer, but not close enough for Jira to tell Oni what had happened to her family, or of the wolves. Oni never pried, and the more time they spent together the more she began to laugh and smile. Jira supposed that Neva was never a good friend for Oni, for when Jira first came, Oni was very reserved and quiet.

At night, Jira would tell her stories. Some she made up, others were the old fairy tales her mother used to tell her. The first night that Jira had told one of the fairy tales, Neva had screamed at her. “You can’t speak of such things! Fairies, goblins and magic don’t exist!”

“Who told you that?”

“Miss Veith told this to all of us years ago. And the king told her!”

Jira still told stories. The word of the king meant nothing to her. She had heard of him just once and that had been years ago. Other than that, she had heard or seen nothing of this king. Oni didn’t believe in the stories like Jira did, but she still told them when Neva and the others were asleep.

They spoke often, of stories, life outside the orphanage and anything that came to mind.

That was why Oni was worried when Jira didn’t say a word at dinner the day Jira decided to leave. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she spooned up some thick stew.

“Nothing,” Jira said.

Oni frowned. “You have no complaints about today’s work or theories of how Miss Veith is getting rich off of us?”

Jira grinned. For fun, Jira had rambled on about how Miss Veith was using them to gain money. She probably sold the sheets they cleaned and showed off her orphanage, cleaned by the orphans themselves, to curious citizens who just wanted to have a look at the ancient building, for a fee, of course.

It had taken Jira weeks to warm up to Oni to the point where they could laugh together. She didn’t think of her parents nearly as much as she used to, but she still couldn’t help feeling that someone may be out to get her. She felt her skin prickle every time she walked down a dark hallway and wondered what was waiting for her in the shadows.

“No, none of that,” she replied. She ate quickly, hoping to get a little bit of sleep before she set out. She wasn’t worried about waking up too late. Neva snored, and Jira woke up every twenty minutes every night. Even after two months, she had not gotten used to the snores.

“Don’t choke,” Oni said, noticing how fast Jira was eating. She watched Jira for a moment and then went back to eating her own meal. Jira slowed down, just to appease Oni. As soon as she was done she leaped up and put her bowl in one of the sinks in the other room then weaved her way through the thickening crowd to the stairs, pretending not to hear Oni yell for her to wait. She rushed up all of the stairs and burst into her room. It was empty. She crawled into her bed and pulled the blanket up over her eyes. She kicked off her boots and pushed them off of the bed. She tried to fall asleep as soon as possible, but her heart was pounding too hard in her chest. She was going to leave this orphanage! She wouldn’t have to eat that horrible food anymore, she would never be cold again and she wouldn’t have to wash those sheets! She would go to the wolves and find out why Silver had been nice to her and then… then where would she go?

She didn’t have much time to think about it, though. Moments later, Neva and her friends came in and went to bed. Not long after, Oni came in.

“Jira?” she said quietly. Behind Oni, Neva had begun to snore all ready. “Jira, are you awake?”

Jira bit her lip. She felt bad for lying. Oni was the only friend she had, and she was about to abandon her. But when she realized that she didn’t know where she would go after she saw the wolves, she realized just how many holes were in her plan. How would she eat? Where would she live? How would she hide from those hunting her when she had nowhere to turn to? Her future suddenly seemed so dark and uncertain, and Oni deserved better than that.

Oni sighed. “Good night.” Jira heard the soft tapping of her feet and then the shuffling noises of her getting into bed.

Jira relaxed and tried to sleep once more. But as she thought of the wolves, she came to another realization. She didn’t tell Oni her plan because a part of her didn’t want the girl to know about the wolves. Silver thought she was special in some way. What if he thought that Oni was too? No… Jira wanted that attention, however strange, to herself. She frowned and looked over her shoulder towards Oni’s bed. She would miss the girl. She laughed easily and was a good listener. She was the only friend Jira had ever had.

Jira thought about going over and waking her up. They could fight through the uncertainty together. Jira could get over her jealousy if Silver did think Oni was special like her.

But she wouldn’t be able to take care of her. She doubted she would be able to take care of herself out in the city. It would be harder on them both if Oni were with her.

Jira rolled over and listened to the wind blowing outside. She focused on that noise, pushing the snores away from her mind. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

The moon was high in the sky when she woke up. Just as she had predicted, Neva’s snores had done the trick. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and slid out of bed. She pulled on her boots and made her bed. Perhaps if Oni saw that the bed was made, she would know that Jira had left and wasn’t stolen away. A kidnapper wouldn’t have time to tidy up afterwards, but a girl hesitant to leave would.

She watched Oni for a few moments. What would the girl think when she woke up and found Jira gone? Would she try and befriend someone else, or would she be on her own? She wished she could leave Oni a note, but she didn’t have any paper. She wasn’t great at writing, anyway.

“Goodbye,” she said quietly and then tiptoed towards the door. Neva snored louder than ever and Jira flinched. Neva groaned in her sleep and her snoring went back to normal. Jira relaxed and then went out the door. She shut it quietly and then looked down the hall. There were no windows and none of the candles were lit. Fear gripped her as she looked into the shadows. Was someone waiting for her? Images of her parents’ bodies flashed through her mind and she stumbled back, gripping the door handle for support. Her knees felt weak and she could feel sweat beginning to dot her brow. She had pushed away all of her fears of what had happened to her parents. She had pushed away the fears of what could happen to her if she was caught. But at times like these, when she was alone in the dark, these fears came back. She could smell blood and hear the angry shouts of the villagers. “Do you think she’ll come back?”

“If she does, then we’ll kill her.”

Her heart pounded and she wanted to turn back and run into her room. But as her eyes began to adjust she relaxed. There was nothing in the shadows. She stepped forward, stopped, and then took another, hesitant step into the shadows. Her heart’s pounding had slowed down, but she was still stiff with fear.

She walked slowly down the hall, flinching at every noise. Her hands groped at the wall and she nearly shrieked when she stumbled down the steps. She had been listening to the noises in the bedrooms and hadn’t even noticed where she was going. She took a few moments to catch her breath and then continued. She jumped when she heard a creak come from downstairs. She listened closely and then heard footsteps. Her eyes widened and she hurried back up the stairs. She stumbled on the last one, letting out a surprised yelp. The footsteps halted for a moment and then came back faster. She got up and went down the hall, trying to be quiet and fast. The more she focused on being fast, the louder she was and the more she focused on being quiet, the slower she went.

“Hello?” someone called from the staircase. She gave up trying to be quiet and ran down the hall. “Wait!” She ignored him and kept running. At the end of the hall was a large door that Oni had said was always locked. She didn’t tell her why. She had nowhere else to go, so she tried the doorknob. It clicked open and she slipped inside. There was a winding staircase in front of her. She could hear the man coming down the hall. She ran up the stairs, her heart pounding in her ears. Everything around her was a blur. Her calves burned. She was sure she would get caught and kicked out of the orphanage.

She turned a corner and ran into something hard. The breath was knocked out of her and she started to stumble backwards. A hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back up. “What are you doing here? What are you doing out of bed? Did someone see you?”

Jira was dizzy and couldn’t understand a word that was said to her. “What?” she asked, her hand coming up to her temple. She moaned and leaned against the wall. The girl sighed and dropped her wrist. Down the stairs, a door opened. The girl stiffened and then started to push Jira up the stairs. When they had done a few circles, she pushed in Jira’s shoulders, making her sit down. “Wait here!”

Jira nodded and watched the girl go back down the steps. There were no windows, and no candles, so she could barely see her.

“Karla? Was that you I heard in the halls?” a voice asked. Jira held her breath.

“I wanted to see the sky.”

The man sighed. “Again? There’s nothing interesting about it. It’s… it’s empty, Karla. And there’s nothing in it for you to see. Your aunt is expecting some wealthy clients in the coming week. If all goes to plan, she’ll be able to afford to have a guard stationed at your door all night. Now, I don’t mind you coming out. Ain’t natural to keep someone locked up this way. But if you have to come out then do it quietly! You were clomping about as if you wanted to wake the whole orphanage up!”

“Yes, sir.”

“I might be able to convince your aunt that you don’t need a guard. You just have to promise me that you’ll be quiet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go eat. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you again tonight!” Jira heard footsteps and the opening and closing of a door. The girl sighed and then came back up the stairs.

“That was close, aye?” she asked, walking past Jira. “Mmm… roast beef!” She continued up the stairs and Jira heard another door open and close. She frowned and stood up, going up the stairs. She came to a door that was slightly ajar. A candle was lit inside, a pale gold stripe of light coming through the crack in the door and onto the stairs.

“Hello?” Jira said. “Karla?” She pushed the door open and stepped into the room. She expected to see a room similar to her own. Thin sheets, a rickety bed and a cold stone floor. Karla’s room was nothing like that, though. There was a thick carpet on the floor, and the bed was wide and tall, with beautifully embroidered blankets. There were candelbras on the walls, but only one candle was lit, and it sat on a small writing table where Karla was eating her dinner of roast beef, the candlelight making her bright red hair shine. Jira’s mouth watered and she looked away to get her mind off of the food. Karla hadn’t noticed her, so she walked around the room slowly. The room was round, and the furniture was cut to fit the curve of the wall. She passed a toy chest, brimming with tops, dolls and wooden swords. There was a bookshelf that reached the ceiling, and next to it a ladder. Each shelf was stuffed with thick books. On the wall hung a portrait of a man and a woman. She couldn’t make out their features very well in the dim light. There were other oddities hanging on the wall. There was a scrap of cloth that was dirty and smelled awful, a feather, a ripped out page from a book, and, to Jira’s surprise, her father’s cloak. She ran to it when she saw it and caressed the edges.

“Where did you get this?” she asked Karla, looking over her shoulder. The roast beef was gone, but Karla was still sitting at the table. She was rocking slowly and humming to herself. Jira shuddered and turned back to the cloak. She started to pull at the pins holding the cloak up when Karla jumped from her seat.

“No! Don’t touch that!” she cried and ran forward. She grabbed Jira’s wrists and pulled her away from the wall. “Don’t!”

“But it’s mine! That cloak was my father’s and…”

“It’s mine! I found it…” She let go of Jira and stepped back, a confused frown on her face.

Jira stared at her and then turned back to the wall. All over the wall there were odd objects. She saw a hat, a broken chain of a necklace, a shoelace, an old, battered ballet slipper and even the arm of a teddy bear. She looked back at Karla who was fiddling with her fingers. She had never seen this girl before, and Oni had told her that no one knew what was behind the door leading to this room. She looked around the room and noticed something that sent chills down her spine. There were no windows. He recalled the man warning her about a guard watching her door all night.

“You’re a prisoner here, aren’t you?” Karla flinched. “You take these things when you go wander at night.”

“They’re my treasures,” she said, walking to the wall and touching a few of the objects.

Jira looked back at the cloak on the wall. The girl had everything she could dream of in this room. Prisoner or not, Jira was taking her cloak back. “Well, this cloak isn’t one of your treasures. It was my fathers.”

Karla looked around. “Where is he?”

Fuming, she replied, “He’s dead?”

“Then I imagine he doesn’t need the cloak anymore.”

“I need it! It’s the only thing of his that I had!”

“Why do you need something that belonged to him?”

“To remind me of him…”

Karla laughed. “He must have been a bore!”

“Don’t say that!” Jira yelled. She wanted to hit this girl. There was something odd about her eyes. They were wide and bright green, with little orange flecks near the pupils. But it wasn’t the color she was concerned with; it was the fact that they lacked a certain light. There was something missing in the girl.

“Why not?” Karla asked, not noticing the way Jira was staring at her. “If you need something of his to remind you of him, then he must not have been very interesting.” Jira looked down, not knowing what to say. She was right, in a way. Jira didn’t need the cloak to remember her father. She just wanted it. She fiddled and pulled at her teardrop pendant, like she always did when she got upset. Karla said, “You belonged to him. I…” she cleared her throat. “I need the cloak now more than you do…”

Jira looked up. Karla was crying. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and went back to the table, pretending to clean up. Jira knew she was just trying to distract herself. She would do the same thing when she was embarrassed and didn’t want to get upset in front of people. She took one last look at the cloak and then left, closing the door behind her.