The Singer ch.2

“Battle wounds?” the shadow asked dryly, coming out of the shadows towards Cadenza so that it was apparent that it was a young woman with short hair cropped close against her head. She wore a loose linen jacket and a pair of leather pants that had made her silhouette look like a man’s.

Cadenza rubbed her hand over one of the cuts on her cheek, burning with humiliation but relieved to see that the figure was not the man from the forest. “Did you see that too?”

The woman grinned and shook her head. “I just heard you crashing through the tree, and Cello told me all about it afterward.”

“Who is Cello—who are you?”

“Oh, I’m a friend, but we’re not acquainted yet, are we? I’m Viola,” the woman said, extending a hand. Her tawny eyes glowed with light that was not leant by the moon. Cadenza took the proffered hand warily. “And the fellow who sent you tumbling down out of your perch was Cello,” the woman added.

“He’s not here now, is he?” Cadenza asked, staring anxiously into the shadows. Viola snickered and shook her head, making the shaft of light coming through the door move across her chestnut hair.

“No, worry not. He’s sound asleep in the inn. Snoring, most likely.” Viola cocked her head to the side for a moment, then looked back to Cadenza and nodded. “He sure is. The lazy lump.”

Cadenza frowned and looked to the wall, where the stable joined the main inn building; she could not hear a thing. It came to her that the young woman was probably mad; Cadenza hoped she was simply harmlessly delusional, and not something more sinister.

“Though I suppose it’s lucky for you that I was the one to keep awake and meet you here,” Viola continued, unaware of Cadenza’s silent questioning of her sanity. “You would have fainted had Cello been hiding in the shadows.”

“What do you mean, meet me?” Cadenza asked, alarmed. The stable was growing even less welcoming with the strange woman’s mysterious words. She wished she had stayed in her bed and waited for sleep to come.

“Oh, I meant that I had to wake up in the middle of the night to check on the horses,” Viola corrected herself absently, stepping back into the shadow to the silver mare; Cadenza presumed it was the woman’s horse, but she wasn’t sure. “Cello tried to convince me that Woodwind was a safe little village, but you never know when thieves will follow you into a town and steal your horses at night. My being here has nothing to do with you, of course.” Viola winked and continued stroking the shining coat of the mare.

Cadenza took a step towards the moonlit street outside. Instead of consoling her, Viola’s explanation, accompanied by her curving grin, only convinced Cadenza that there was something dangerous happening. So much for a harmless madwoman—Viola was utterly frightening.

“I—I have to go home,” Cadenza stammered. She flinched when Viola’s amber eyes turned back on her.

“Yes, of course,” the young woman said. “Go home and rest. Who knows, perhaps we will be able to get to know each other better tomorrow.”

Cadenza turned and ran, Viola’s soft laughter following her out of the stable. Her heart pounded in time to her frenzied footsteps as she sprinted down the cobbled street and away towards her home. She desperately hoped that she would never have to see either of the strangers again.

Once she had reached the wood fence that marked the beginning of her family’s farm, Cadenza realized that she was breathing in loud, wheezing gasps. She stopped short of the door; she would wake up the whole house if she went inside in her present condition. Instead, she raised her hands to her head and walked over the fields.

She slowly controlled the irrational fear that had gripped her in the stable. Perhaps it wasn’t so irrational, Cadenza thought, but it certainly wasn’t helping her. Her mind was buzzing with questions and dark foreboding, but no matter how hard she tried to reason it out, Cadenza couldn’t straighten out any logical explanation for the sudden appearance of two strangers that seemed to know about her. How was she of any interest to them—to anyone, for that matter?

Cadenza reached the edge of the cultivated fields, and vaulted over the fence to walk through the long grasses that grew wild over the gentle slopes on the other side. The moon’s light shone over the fields, dulling the usually vibrant green into mystical silver. A slight wind came from the north, blowing ripples of silvery grass towards Cadenza as she waded through the meadow, her fingers trailing through the long blades.

The tranquil moonlit world calmed Cadenza’s heart and mind. Whatever was lurking in the town could not reach her here; this place of waving grasses and wind was her home, and Cadenza trusted the soft silence. Soon she had walked far enough over the downs that a line of trees stood between her and the village. The familiar tree trunks and sweeping boughs seemed to understand Cadenza’s need of peace and privacy.

She came to a small meadow protected on three sides by trees, and lay down in the middle of it. A soft whistle of a shepherd came from far off, and Cadenza imagined him gathering his sheep together as he neared the town. She stared up at the moon, sending her thoughts up to its familiar face. Maybe the moon knew what was happening to the hushed town of Woodwind and Cadenza’s regular, predictable life.

Someone ought to know, Cadenza thought, since she had no idea.