Someone had stripped me of my ruined dress and placed me in a soft nightgown. A tingle ran through me to see my old, shaggy work boots stuffed into a corner by the door, but…my knife? I scanned the room. There was nothing more dangerous than a clay pitcher and the splinters on the floor. I fingered the rough fabric of the curtains as I tried to swallow my bitter disappointment, and I pulled them back, revealing the world beyond.
The very first things I saw, and pretty much the only things I saw, were trees. Big trees, little trees, pointy trees, soft trees, and some species I didn’t even recognise. The window was cold as I pressed my face up against the glass and glanced down, letting out a quiet yelp as the ground seemed a deadly drop beneath me. I flung the windows wide to get a better look but sorely regretted it as a harsh wind blew straight through to my bones. I slammed them shut and hobbled as fast as my feet would carry me back to bed before throwing myself under the covers and huddling in its previous warmth.
The room seemed so ordinary, yet out of the ordinary at the same time. There was a dresser beside the window and a long, framed mirror with an intricately engraved border. A chest of drawers and a beaten-up cupboard stood next to a stained wooden door – I guessed it would lead to the rest of the house – and everything had a distinct, damp smell to it. Just how old was this place?
After I’d regained the heat I’d previously lost I rolled cautiously out of bed and started toward the stained door. My fingers barely grazed the doorknob before it rattled under the strain of another’s hand outside. The bruises on my feet protested angrily as I leapt back and retreated, dropping behind the bed and stuffing myself underneath. Two sets of footsteps entered the room and stopped at the sight of the empty, strewn sheets.
“What-?” The voice was light and warm.
There was a moment’s further silence before one of them moved toward the end of the room, clomping her feet in a playful fashion. “My, my.” The voice was strong, like that of the other but more defined. “I thought that we left a little wounded sparrow here to rest. Did she fly away?” The footsteps stopped at the window. “No? Well perhaps she decided she was feeling better and wanted to play a game. What about the cupboard-?” No, nothing in the cupboard. The doors opened and shut, and footsteps stopped at the bed. “In that case she must have been cautious little creature and hid...” the sheets lifted up, revealing me, “under the bed.” The woman laughed. “You’re ‘it’, little sparrow.”
I shook fiercely. Though the woman was beautiful and certainly seemed kind, the last stranger I’d trusted tried to kill me.
“It’s nice to see you awake at last, Ava. I’m Willow.” The woman knelt down and reached her hand toward me, letting it rest on my forehead. “Good, but not perfect.” She got back up and peered under the bed once more. “You need a few more days of rest before you can fly, little sparrow.”
Her footsteps were replaced with another set as a younger girl poked her head underneath. “Your energy felt good today so we brought some food.” The girl slid a tray under the bed and smiled. Both she and Willow had the same blue eyes. She looked to be no older than Kaela and her golden hair had the same hue. “Try not to eat too quickly or you’ll be sick. You’ve been out for a while.” She flipped the sheets back down and both exited the room.
How long was a while? I rested my head in my palms and eyed the bowl of broth, my stomach grumbling hungrily. The spoon was crafted from a fine metal and I did as I was told and ate slowly – at first. A spoonful or two into the meal and I was practically drinking it down, though I intensely regretted it soon after and spent the rest of the day trying not to vomit.
FIVE SUNS HAD risen and fallen, and only on the morning of the sixth day did I finally stop hiding under the bed when footsteps approached the room. The door handle turned and Willow entered, holding a tray full of various medical supplies and, to my delight, breakfast. She chuckled as she saw the top of my head poking above the mattress, the bed still firmly between us. I wasn’t that comfortable.
“Well, you may not be seated in bed like a star patient but this certainly makes it easier to treat you.” Willow set the tray down on the dresser and felt my forehead and neck as she did every time. “Completely normal. Good girl, that’s what I like to see.” Willow pulled up my nightgown and inspected my ribs and shoulder. I couldn’t help but flinch as my tender side protested against Willow’s touch. “Your scapula feels immensely better, though you’ve got some nasty bruising, and your ribs are on the mend. A few weeks and you’ll be back to normal, I’ll bet my left shoe on it. As for now, eat up. Then when you’re done I’ll take you to the washroom. I expect you’ll be desperate for a bath.”
I was. Daeus above, I was desperate to wash off days’ worth of sweat and sickness; the feeling of Gabriel pressing himself on me…
“Thank you,” I croaked, my throat stiff and dry.
Willow paused for a moment, almost disbelieving, and then smiled. “At last she speaks.” She pulled a few tins of balm off the tray and passed me a bowl of porridge. “You should use your voice more often, it’s beautiful.”
Willow left me at first to eat breakfast, returning shortly after with a pair of soft shoes. I tried to turn them down, insisting that a walk to the bathing chamber was hardly cause for dirtying fine slippers but Willow raised her eyebrows at me.
“Trust me, you’ll want them,” she said with a wry smile.
She helped me into a warm robe and opened the door at last. Despite the iciness of the breeze that greeted us, it was the most wonderful thing I’d ever felt as it tore around my body. Though, the first thing I noticed as I stepped out onto the threshold was the sickening drop either side of us as we emerged onto a hastily-made wooden balcony. I grasped onto the doorframe and took in the sight.
The room itself seemed buried in the trunk of a large tree. Its roof sloped away from the centre and was covered in aging moss that fell in clumps when the wind stirred. But when I peered behind, I could see cut stone half-wrapped around the back as it sprung up alongside the trunk and out in a more definitive manner. When I got the courage to near the edge of the bridge I noted one other constructed tower slightly below us on the other side of the house, similarly half-buried in a tree, a grand building at the very base. I gulped. The distance between us and the floor wasn’t particularly pleasing, nor was I fond of the rickety bridge leading to the tower and stairs opposite us. Only the trees were holding this house together.
I formed a new respect for Willow as we walked over the bridge. It was sturdy enough but still swung in the wind and dealing with that while carrying up trays of food, medicine and water must have been a skill mastered by few. I crossed to the platform opposite, trying not to trip over my feet. What kind of people chose to build into the trees? Well, people who weren’t afraid of heights. I almost kissed the bar when my fingers wrapped around the dark metal railing on the other side.
“Not a fan of heights, I take it?” Willow asked.