(Private - flashback)
Cassandra Willows
Staddle, Willows Residence
Roughly ten years ago
Cassandra stood gazing thoughtfully at the abandoned peddler's cart, hands on her hips as her brown gaze studied it. The wagon had a badly broken wheel on one side, and the other was completely gone. As a result, the wagon itself was on its side, clearly forsaken by whomever had left it here. It had been left to rot in the back yard, half buried in the tall grass at the edge of her husband's family's property. The cart had been there far longer than she had been, that much was evident. In all the years she’d been married to Jeff, that thing had been there. Now, she had thought up a use for it... assuming it was still structurally sound.
Wading through the tall grass, the carpenter's daughter took some time to inspect the outside of the peddler’s wagon. At various places, she rapped her knuckles on the wood, checking that it was solid. It seemed alright, surprisingly strong. For reasons unknown to her, the window of the cart had bars across it, and as she reached the back door, she noticed that it had a hefty deadbolt on the outside. The outside? That, combined with the bars on the window, made her feel a bit.. well, she wasn’t sure she liked the feeling that gave her about the original intent behind it... but she was repurposing it, now.
After a little further inspection, Cassandra decided that it would work perfectly for what she wanted. She knew, by now, that there was no hope of leaving Jeff. He’d made it perfectly clear that he would hunt her down if she ever tried it, and the threats to harm her..
their.. daughter, well, she wouldn’t risk it. They had already lost one, and she would not lose the other. He had a violent temper when he was drunk, and he was far too possessive over Cassandra to ever let her go. But at least she could provide her daughter a safer place to hide, when she needed to get away from her father. Particularly when he was drunk, or had that
friend of his over. Which was far too often for Cassandra's liking.
Sighing softly, she wished that her father were still alive. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. Without him, she had no one to turn to for help, and therefore must rely on herself to do what she could for herself and her daughter. But she had gained much knowledge from him of his craft, and so, using some tools she'd inherited from him, it only took her a few minutes to move the deadbolt to the inside of the door, after checking out the inside of the wagon. It was surprisingly secure, she noted with satisfaction. As secure as any jailor could want for transporting prisoners, in fact...
She spent the next hour fixing the wagon up a bit more. Tapping a nail back in here, replacing a splintered board there. Over the course of the following week, she worked on it any chance she had.. when her daughter was asleep, when her husband was out at the tavern, or passed out drunk in the house. She added many things to the interior to make it feel more like a
fun hideout, rather than a
necessary hideout. A small bookcase, containing a handful of story books. Shutters for the window, to keep out the rain, and a pretty curtain to hide those bars. Pillows for a bench she put inside, some decorations for the inner walls, and so forth. A coat of paint on the walls, to make it look nicer.. on the
inside. She wanted to leave the outside looking just as dilapidated and abandoned as possible, so it would appear like just a heap of junk no one would pay any attention to.
Last, but not least, she laid a square plank on top of a long-empty barrel she had found in the cart, then retrieved a black and white checkered cloth she had sewn together, spreading it over the board. Smiling softly, the young mother then took out a collection of buttons she’d saved back for this purpose, and arranged them to be the chess pieces. Pawns. Along with some other miscellaneous items for the other pieces. Bronaeth was turning five soon, but she was quite smart, and Cassandra figured it was a good a time as any to teach her how to think strategically and plan ahead. She would need such skills, with the situation they found themselves in. Besides, Cassandra’s father had taught her to play when she was very young and she had always enjoyed that time with him, even when he insisted on making her answer mathematical problems, practice spelling, or review history lessons while they played.
By the time the day had come when her little girl would be turning five, Cassandra felt quite pleased with her work.
Bronaeth, as she called her daughter, would like this. And she ought to be safe enough from harm, in here. Cassandra hoped, anyway. Satisfied with her work, Cassandra nodded to herself and set off to make her daughter's favorite breakfast. Then she would show her the surprise. She hoped it would bring her much happiness, but more importantly.. a safe refuge from those who would harm her.
(All things relating to
@Ercassie's characters were approved by her)
|
Brooke &
Dog
(Private solo post, continued from
here to conclude this thread of the tale)
The wagon looked even more dilapidated than it had, over ten years ago. It was also difficult to see beneath the blanket of snow. That was a good thing. Despite her newly acquired winter apparel, Brooke was shivering by the time she reached her little hideout. The trip to Bree had been mostly silent. She had not found much cause to speak to Ranger Gwandhyra, and had felt far too shy and awkward to attempt any sort of conversation. In a way, she’d wanted to tell him thanks, for what he had done. But she didn’t really know how to get started, and she wasn’t sure he’d even want to talk to her. He probably thought she was like the majority of folks around town, who thought poorly of rangers. She’d never understood that, really. But she also couldn’t really think of any way of telling him she didn’t feel that way, without bringing up any cause to ask why she thought he thought so, and a whole other slew of questions she didn't want to answer. Then again, maybe he just thought her a nuisance, since he’d had to leave the warm cabin, and Seri’s company, in order to take her home. Besides, with her sniffles and occasional coughing, it seemed wise to avoid breathing the icy air through the mouth as much as possible.
So, as it turned out, there were few words exchanged between them. At the beginning of the trip, when she requested to ride side-saddle on the horse (since he seemed set on having her ride on the horse) and at the end, when she declared one of the houses, at random, to be her home. It wasn’t until she was standing on the ground again that a certain four-legged friend had come bounding out of the snow to greet her. Brooke was stunned as the dog nearly bowled into her, spooking the horse slightly by his sudden appearance. And then, the playful canine had proceeded to evade all attempts at being caught, until Brooke had no other course of action than to let him come along with her. But that posed a lot more problems, none of which she could explain properly without delving into a whole other can of worms.
At the same time, it also provided an answer to another, smaller problem. She now had an excuse to go around to the back of the house. Claiming, to the ranger, that she would have to secure the dog in the back yard before asking her parents whether she could actually keep him, Brooke had then given a shyly offered thanks to Gwandhyra for seeing her safely home, before making her way around to the back of the house with the dog bounding along at her side.. yet always skipping away if she made any attempt at capturing him with the intent of sending him back with Gwandhyra. So, she gave up on that. From the back yard of the stranger's house, she had waited, around the corner and out of sight, until she was sure that the ranger had gone on his way toward the Dogwood’s residence. After that, she had walked the rest of the way home. Because she had to go home, or Claire would destroy the book that meant everything to her.
As she approached the house where she really lived, the broken window was the first thing she noticed. She stopped, feeling a sort of.. sense of impending doom. She stood in the front yard for several moments, fighting against the panic that threatened to surge up and overwhelm her. Why did a broken window terrify her so much? She couldn’t quite explain why. The dog was growling, beside her. She noticed it after a long moment, and looked down. Blinking. Why was he growling? She looked toward the house, where the dog was looking. The fur along his back was raised. “Shh..” She whispered. She was shaking, but she didn’t know anymore whether she was simply cold, despite the warm clothing Seri had given her, or if she was frightened. Maybe both. She did her best to smother a cough into the folds of the cloak she wore, muffling the sound to render it as inaudible as possible.
Cautiously, Brooke moved forward, and pressed herself to the wall at one side of the gaping hole. She put a hand out toward her new friend, in hopes of stalling the dog from moving forward, hoping he would keep quiet. She listened there, at the side of the window, and it felt as if she could actually feel herself growing paler. No… not
him. Not here. How? Why? She bit her lip, feeling frozen to the spot. No wonder the ranger couldn’t find any trace of him. It was just as she had feared.. and now what? She felt as if the air were too thin to breath, and closed her eyes. It was cold, not thin. She drew in a shaky breath, trying her best not to cough again. Ms. Seri’s tea had helped a lot, but now her throat was protesting the frigid air she was breathing too rapidly. What to do?
After a moment, Brooke moved off of the porch, slowly, carefully. Pulling the dog with her as well as she could, she moved away, taking extreme care not to cross in front of the window, for fear that by some wild misfortune, someone inside might observe the movement even through the thick blanket that covered up the hole. The last thing she wanted was for any of them to discover that she was here. But then.. she remembered Claire's threat to destroy her book. That was why she had come back here at all; because she couldn't let her mother's book be destroyed. No.. she had to get it back somehow. But how could she hope to do any such thing? Even if it had been only Claire.. it would have been a nearly impossible task. But with Mr. Spruce inside,
with Claire?
Oblivious to the frozen flakes swirling thickly and lazily about her head, Brooke leaned her back against the outer wall to the side of the abode, arms wrapped tight around herself. Her breath was sounding more and more like wheezing than breathing. Before her, the dog planted himself in front of her in the snow, and looked up with his head tilted to one side. He whined softly and lightly pawed at her knee. When this failed to bring the response he wanted, he abruptly raised himself up on his hind legs, doing a dog's best impersonation of a human as he put his front paws on her shoulders and attempted to lick her face.
Startled, yet touched by the canine's caring attitude toward her, Brooke let out a faint laugh after she'd recovered from the suddenness of it. She rubbed gently around his ears and gave a weak smile, feeling the panic slowly beginning to fade.. not completely, but enough that she was able to force herself to slow her breathing, and attempt to calm down. Right.. a plan. She needed a plan. She drew in a slow, shaky breath that ended in a cough, and closed her eyes, thinking hard. The dog dropped back down to lean against her legs, sniffing the air as he looked around. As if he were watching for any unwelcome approach.
Every plan she could come up with to try and rescue her book came back to one major problem; Sully. She couldn't take a peek through the smashed window to try and spot the book, because he would see her. She didn't dare try and sneak into Claire's room to see if it might be there, because she didn't want to end up getting trapped in there if they went in there. And she couldn't just go in through the front door, because then she'd be right back in the same situation she had been in before Clay and Aislin rescued her. She wasn't about to endure
that. Not to mention the dog was a factor in all of this, now, too. She looked down at him, seeing that he was looking up at her expectantly.
"We'll see if he's gone by morning," She whispered at last, reaching a decision that seemed the most logical for the moment. With that decided, she tried very hard not to let herself think about what Claire might do to her book, and set off around to the back yard, trudging through snow that would hopefully fill in behind her as the flakes continued to fall heavily around her.
Inside her 'fortress', it took her a little longer than usual to get her '
heater' lit, as her hands were feeling a bit stiff. But soon, she was holding them out toward the clay pot that radiated a little warmth, from the multiple small candles nestled beneath it, inside a dented loaf pan. "We'll be safe in here," She told the dog, sitting cross-legged on the rug that her mother had put there, many years ago, and rested her back against the bench. Brooke sniffled, then coughed a couple of times, her throat feeling scratchy already. She frowned, feeling as if she might be getting a fever, but hopefully it would pass by morning.
She laughed softly as the dog spread his upper half across her lap, tail wagging as he looked up at her happily. "Alright.." She decided quietly. "If I can keep you secret from them... you can stay with me." She smiled, scratching gently around his ears. "But you have to behave, and don't let Claire or Amber or my dad find out you're here... deal?"
The dog licked her face again, then gave a quiet bark as if he were agreeing to these terms. As he laid his head down on her lap, Brooke smiled softly and looked around the quiet little hideout. After a few minutes, she repositioned, curling up on the floor with the dog snuggled up close, and she pulled her new cloak over them both. She was still shivering despite the mild warmth emanating from the nearby device. She also felt achy and tired. She hadn't slept the night before, and the weariness was finally taking over. After all the adrenaline and fear from the day, along with all the walking and other physical exertion... she felt tired enough to actually fall asleep tonight. The dog already was, she noticed, and the sound of his soft, steady breathing seemed to lull her into a state of slumber as well, despite all else. Whatever awaited her in the morning, she would at least get some sleep tonight.
