Girl in the Red Hood (2 page)

"You're a little old to be chasing chickens,
aren't you?" He'd smiled easily as he walked up the dirt path to
the house. Liesel felt herself blushing as she returned the
smile,

"Yes, but if I don't, no one will."

"Well, that's a good way to think of it if
nothing else," he'd laughed. His clothes were simple, but clean. In
fact, their detail suggested a bit of authority, someone with more
influence than a simple tradesman. He spoke clearly and smiled
pleasantly, but Liesel hadn't missed how his eyes traveled up and
down her the way her grandfather eyed a horse he might purchase.
"Is your father nearby, perhaps?" Liesel had fetched her father
from the field, wondering the whole time what the stranger could
want. He answered her question when he introduced himself to
Warin.

"Good morning, sir! My name is Izaak," he'd
greeted her father enthusiastically. "What a lovely vineyard! And
your name is?" Liesel nearly let out a giggle. Whatever he wanted,
this man was not off to a good start.

"Warin," her father had grunted. "What do
you want?" Izaak looked slightly taken aback by Warin's
brusqueness, but recovered his smile quickly.

"I'm not familiar with this countryside, I
must admit. I've never seen anything quite like your land-"

"It's not mine," Liesel's father had turned
and started walking back to the fields. The thin stranger
followed.

"So, you aren't a farmer?"

"Blacksmith."

"And you're out here because...?" Warin
turned sharply to face the man.

"Look, I'm busy. What do you want?"

"I must confess," Izaak finally lost his
smile and sighed. "My village suffered a great sickness last
winter. Many died, and there are few to take their places. I'm
looking for strong men who could move out to work in our village."
Liesel felt the first ripple of unease when she saw her father's
eyes light up at the mention of moving. While Warin had agreed to
live at the vineyard, everyone knew he hated living with his wife's
parents. Then disappointment settled into his face.

"Interestin' as that sounds, my wife is ill.
We've had healers from all over to see her, but none could help."
The man's eyes brightened again.

"Ah, but since the sickness, we have a new
healer! She came to us from the Far East with herbs and salves few
around here have seen! And I know she hasn't been to see your wife
yet because she refuses to leave the village." The moment he
mentioned the new healer, Liesel knew they were going. It wasn't
long before all of the details of the move were settled between the
two men.

"Liesel," her father had called to her as
the thin stranger left. "Don't tell your grandparents quite yet.
I'll tell 'em when it's the right time." The right time came two
nights later, apparently, when her grandfather was gone hunting,
and her grandmother was powerless to stop him. And now they were in
the middle of a forest without light.

"We're almost there," Liesel whispered to
her mother before laying a goodnight kiss on her cold cheek.
Leaving the vineyard was the last thing Liesel had wanted to do. As
she stared into the fire her father had built, however, Liesel
decided that maybe it was worth a try. She would do anything to
have Amala back.

They rose early again the next morning and
continued along the road. The further they traveled, however, the
more uncomfortable Liesel felt. These woods felt sick. Though no
direct sunshine had penetrated the trees the first day they'd
entered the great forest, it had still been light enough. But on
the second day, even the brightest spots made the forest appear the
way the sky had during the darkest storms back on the vineyard.
Liesel looked down at her bright red cloak, suddenly glad for the
vivid color in such a dull place.

They arrived at the town late that
afternoon, or what Liesel guessed to be afternoon at least. Glad to
see signs of life after their strange, solitary ride, Liesel smiled
at the first passersby she saw. Men, women, and children came out
of their thatch roofed cottages to stare at the newcomers, but
oddly enough, no one returned her smile. Further into town, a small
child raised her hand to wave, but her mother pushed it down and
hurried her out of the street. Soon the houses grew closer
together, and shops, stalls, and larger buildings all blended
together until they could see what looked like a town square up
ahead.

"Father," Liesel called in a low voice. "It
doesn't look like there was an illness here recently."

"What do you mean?"

"All these people...the shops are full, and
people are everywhere."

"Bets are they're like us," Warin said with
a shrug. His nonchalant attitude didn't fool Liesel, though. She
could see him looking at the people as well, a small frown
furrowing his brow.

When they reached the well in the center of
the town square, Warin pulled the horse to a halt and instructed
Liesel to stay with her mother. He was on his way up to the steps
of the largest building Liesel had seen yet, when a rather rotund
man walked purposefully towards them, Izaak trailing nervously
after him.

"You must be our new blacksmith!"

"Which is odd, considerin' I just passed one
up back there," Warin frowned at Izaak, his lilting accent making
his displeasure even more obvious. "You said there had been an
illness that wiped out the village." Izaak paled a bit, but the
other man, unfazed, stepped forward with an overly friendly
smile.

"We can always use another blacksmith,
especially as ours is getting along in years."

"And you are?"

"Odo, town mayor."

"Well, Odo, we're here to see your healer."
The mayor's sweaty smile faltered for a moment before reappearing
on his face. “Surely you'd like to see your new home first-"

"The healer. Or we're leavin'." Liesel felt
a small flicker of hope in her heart. Perhaps this healer might
know something the others didn't. And when Amala awoke, she could
convince Warin to leave the forest and take the family home. The
mayor looked a bit unnerved, and paused before answering. Finally,
though, he glumly nodded and turned, motioning for the family to
follow. Warin hopped back up into the cart and clucked at the
horse. Just two streets over, they stopped before a small
cottage.

It looked no different than the other
cottages, with the exception of an herb garden that lined the path
to the door. Liesel felt another stab of unease as she glanced at
its contents. The garden itself was barely larger than her mother's
had been, and she recognized every plant in it. Most of the plants
looked sick, which Liesel guessed was from the lack of direct
sunlight. The weedy plot hardly looked like it belonged to an
herbalist from another land, just as the woman walking out of the
house to greet them hardly looked like she was from the Far East.
She had pale skin, as did everyone else in the forest village,
mousey brown hair pinned back carelessly beneath a dirty blue cap,
and a thin face with dull eyes.

As Warin gently lifted his wife from the
back of the cart, the mayor fairly sprinted over to whisper in the
woman's ear. Her eyes widened a bit, and she looked over the
mayor's shoulder to glare at Izaak. By then, Warin was heading up
the path. Liesel didn't miss the look of panic that flitted across
the woman's face as she opened the door for them to walk
inside.

The cottage room was dark with just one
candle to see by, but there really wasn't that much to see. Liesel
had been inside the healer's house back in her old city, a building
that was full to the brim with dried plant pieces in jars, other
plants hanging upside down to dry, a large variety of mixing bowls,
mortar and pestle, and a large pot to boil mixtures in. This house
had only one shelf of jars, and most of them were covered with
dust. The mayor cleared the table so Warin could lay Liesel's
mother on top of it.

"What-" the healer began to ask, but Izaak
interrupted her.

"Remember the sleeping sickness I told you
about, Doffy?" The woman stared at him blankly until a look of
nervous recognition came to her face.

"Oh...oh, yes." She walked over to her shelf
of jars and stared up at them for a moment before pulling four
down. Grabbing the dirty mortar and pestle from another dusty
table, she went to work grinding and mixing the herbs. Liesel
watched intently as she worked, running through the plants and
their uses her head. Her mother had been an expert with herbs.
Although this mixture of herbs the woman had concocted seemed a bit
simple for the kind of illness her mother was suffering, nothing
was too alarming until she pulled out a dried clipping of a dark
green branch with spiky leaves and fluffy orange buds.

"No!" Everyone jumped when Liesel cried out.
"That's fox heel!" Everyone, even the healer, stared at her as if
she'd spoken another language. Only then did Liesel realize how
rude it must seem for a girl to correct a grown healer. But Liesel
knew all about that plant. She'd nearly eaten it when she was two.
Her mother had looked over just as Liesel had raised it to her
mouth, according to the family story. They kept it in the garden
because it could heal skin wounds, but it was absolutely never to
be eaten. Amala had run so fast she'd dropped and broken a clay
bowl to keep Liesel from touching it to her tongue. When she was
older, Amala had taught Liesel how to safely apply it to a bruise,
but never was it to be eaten or drunk, according to her mother.

"Crushing the flowers into the herb makes it
poisonous," Liesel explained softly as her father's look of shock
turned into a glare.

"Liesel, outside. Now." Liesel felt her face
redden with embarrassment as she followed her father out the front
door like a small child. Warin bent down to look her in the eye.
"Just what do you think you're doin'?"

"I told you," Liesel whispered. "Fox heel is
dangerous."

"You think their healer doesn't know her own
trade? That a girl of thirteen knows better than she does?" Liesel
felt resentment rise in her throat. Glaring back at her father, she
huffed.

"They lied about the sickness. There's
obviously been no blight here. They lied about their healer being
from the Far East! Doesn't it seem that they might lie about this,
too?"

"One more word out of you, girl, and you'll
regret it!" Warin gave his daughter a withering look.

"I don't care!" Liesel shouted, tired of
watching such foolishness play out. "If you let them give that
rubbish to Mother, she'll die!" She could be just as stubborn as
her father when she wanted to be. Warin stared at her in awe for a
moment before giving her a sneer and stalking back inside. Liesel
took off after him, darting around his large frame, just in time to
see Doffy prepare the mixture for a tea. Without a second thought,
Liesel knocked the spoon out of the woman's hands.

"I don't know what you think you're doing,
but I'll not let you poison her!" she yelled. Two strong hands
grabbed her from behind, however, and Warin said,

"I apologize for my daughter's behavior.
She's just upset about her mum being sick. Please, do what you need
to do. She'll see eventually that she needs to trust those who know
better than her." After giving the mayor a nervous glance, the
healer lifted another spoonful of the mixture out to prepare the
tea again. Liesel felt like her heart had stopped beating and
dropped into her stomach as she watched the woman mix the poisonous
orange tinted tea. Tears began to slide down her face as she
realized she was going to watch her mother die. She shrieked for
her father to stop them, pleading with him to save Amala's life.
Warin put his hand gently but firmly over his daughter's mouth as
he continued to restrain her.

"It'll be alright, Leese," he whispered
kindly into her ear through her weeping. "I know you're frightened,
but this woman will save her. She'll be better. I feel it in my
gut." All too soon, the deed was done. Amala had swallowed the tea,
and the family was taken to their new cottage.

"The old tailor lived here," the mayor had
explained. "He passed away three years ago. It's yours now. Let
Izaak help you carry your wife in so she can rest." Liesel watched
it all with dead eyes. The mayor and Izaak left soon, and then it
was just their family. Liesel sat with her mother, holding Amala's
hand as Warin emptied the cart.

"Is she showing any signs?" he asked
hopefully. It was all Liesel could do to stay silent in response,
when all she wanted was to scream. She glared instead and shook her
head. "Well, then I'm off to the butcher's. Take care of your
mother. I'll be back." Liesel silently loathed his hopeful tone,
ignoring his wave as he left. It wasn't long after that that
Amala's breathing slowed and her hands grew cold. Through the blur
of her tears, Liesel finally saw her mother's gray-blue eyes
flutter open for the first time in a year.

"My Leese," Amala's hand shook as she lifted
it to touch Liesel's face. Her voice was raw, but it was sweeter
than Liesel remembered. Liesel grabbed her mother’s hand and held
it to her cheek.

"Mother," she sobbed, "I tried to stop them,
but they wouldn't listen! Father wouldn't listen!" In some part of
her mind, Liesel wondered why she was blubbering about the tea when
her mother's eyes were finally open. Didn't that mean she was
better? Besides, there were so many other things she wanted to tell
her about that had happened in the last year, but all she could do
was sit there and cry like a child.

"I know, sweet girl," Amala's voice was
faint. "I couldn't see you, but I could hear.”

“You could hear?” Liesel frowned in
confusion. Coughing, Amala nodded.

“I could hear everything."

“Since the day you fell sick?”

Amala nodded, wincing as though in pain.