Morning exercises – run, circuit training, gymnastics. Sometimes two runs. This is the best bit of the day. Usually I run barefoot. The mud is part of my feet now.
Cleaning me, my clothes and my cage – empty my bucket, fill my bucket with water from the stream, wash in stream, wash my shirt or my jeans if it looks like they will dry quickly (I only have one set of clothes), sweep out my cage, oil and clean the cage, locks and shackles, though most nights she doesn’t make me put them on.
Breakfast – I make it and I clean up after it. Porridge in winter, porridge in summer. I might be allowed honey or dried fruit.
Morning chores – collect the eggs, clean out the chicken coop, put out chicken feed and water, feed the pigs, clean the kitchen range, chop wood. The axe is chained to a log and Celia always watches while I chop. (One of my first, admittedly not well-thought-out escape attempts was when I tried to chop away the log holding the chain.)
Lunch – make lunch, clean up after lunch. I bake bread every other day.
Afternoon exercise – self-defence, running, circuit training. I am improving at self-defence but Celia is seriously fast and strong. Basically it’s an excuse for her to beat the shit out of me.
Afternoon study – reading. Celia reads to me, which sounds sweet but isn’t. She asks questions about the things she reads. If my answers aren’t good enough I get slapped and those slaps sting. But at least I don’t have to read. Celia tried to teach me but we came to an agreement to stop that; it was too painful for both of us. She even said ‘Sometimes you have to admit defeat,’ and then slapped me for smirking.
Last week I picked up a book and started to spell out some of the words but she snatched it out of my hands, saying she might have to kill me if I carried on. Celia has a few books. There are three witch books: one on potions, one about White Witches from the past and one about Black Witches. She reads them to me and to herself, I guess. The fain books make a bigger pile: a dictionary, an encyclopaedia, a few books on bushcraft, mountaineering, survival, that sort of thing, and some novels, mostly by Russian writers. I prefer the witch books but Celia says she is providing a ‘rounded education’, which seems a blatant lie. Sometimes when she’s reading these other books Celia doesn’t seem like a White Witch; she seems … almost human. She is currently reading us a book called One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. She loves all these books about the gulags. She says that it shows that even fains can survive in much tougher conditions than I have to cope with. The way she says it makes me wonder if she is planning something harsher.
Tea – make tea, eat, clean up.
Indoor evening work – thankfully this is short in winter as it’s soon dark and I have to be outside. But for the time we are together we talk about the day, things I’ve learnt, stuff like that. Celia says she doesn’t teach, she talks and I have to learn by listening and talking back ‘using my intelligence’. After that, if it’s still light, I may be allowed to draw.
Outdoor evening exercise – in winter when it gets dark early this takes most of the late afternoon as well as the evening. I can run fine in the dark. I can’t see but something guides me and I let it and just run. This is the one thing that I don’t need a trick to enjoy.
As well as running, we practise combat in the dark. I’m stronger and faster at full moon. If it’s full moon Celia can’t beat me, as long as I keep out of her reach. A number of times now she has said, ‘Good work. That’ll do for now.’ I think she might have been struggling a bit.
Bedtime (cagetime) – shackle myself up if she’s in a bad mood.
Night – sleep most nights, bad dreams most nights. It’s good if I just look at the stars, but it’s often cloudy and I’m usually too knackered.
lessons about my father
Celia is an ex-Hunter. She won’t tell me when she retired or why. All she says is that she’s employed by the Council to be my guardian and teacher.
She guards against me escaping and she teaches me about fighting and surviving. We have now moved from unarmed to armed combat, though we are only armed with wooden knives. I asked if we could practise with guns and she said, ‘Let’s see if you can master the knife,’ like she’s some ninja expert, which of course she turns out to be. The pretend knives are all the same unusually long and slender shape. I’m guessing that the Fairborn is like this.
Celia also teaches me about Marcus.
So it all seems to be heading in a certain direction. At first I said nothing, played dumb, but I can’t play along any more. I have to make some effort to fight back and so the other day I tackled it head on.
‘I won’t kill my dad. You know that, don’t you?’
She blanked me.
But I know blank looks and I shook my head. ‘I won’t kill him.’
She said, ‘I’ve been instructed to tell you these things. I tell you them. I don’t question why.’
‘You teach me to query everything.’