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Her name is Pest.
Maybe. She’s not quite sure. She’s been called other things too. Demon Child, Devil’s Spawn, Witch, Saporian, Bastard, and many other things. She gets called Pest the most though, so that must be her name.
She sneezed when the cold and crisp air nipped her nose. Her calloused feet padded gently on the forest floor. She heard the rhythm of the forest in her ears and bones as she ventured deeper into the woods. As the sun vanished into twilight, the nightly orchestra began their daily song. The crickets played their strings as the owls sang their hunting song. Pest could hear the squeaking of field mice and the wind rustling what little leaves the trees had left.
She hummed to the tune of the babbling brook and howling wolves as she wanders further from the cities that scorned her. The cobblestone paths of Corona were cruel to her and the crowded streets of Vardaros felt bitter and lonely despite the numbers ambling along. In the forest she felt warm, safe, and free. While the forest was full of predators and unseen dangers, Pest knew what to expect. It cradled and cared for her in a way no village ever could.
The trees started to thin and the ground began to soften as she approached a lush clearing. Browning tall grass brushed against her legs as she sprinted through the hidden glade. She could see on the other side of the clearing was an old oak tree. She couldn’t help but giggle as she ran faster and started to cartwheel towards it.
The stars shone brightly overhead, not a cloud in the sky. The creatures of the forest went about their daily routine, either watching the young girl or giving her wide berth. To Pest’s happiness, many of the animals that resided in the forest considered her a friend.
She botched one of her cartwheels and collapsed close by the tree. Her shoulders shook as melodic laughter intertwined with the forest’s natural song. She laid there awhile, looking at the stars above. She lazily traced pictures in the stars with her spindly finger, smiling brightly. Pest could not tell you how long she laid there, gazing into the heavens or resting in Mother Nature’s hands.
It was the cool wind blowing through her rags that made her rise from the comfortable ground. Not wanting to freeze over, crawled into a hole by the base of the tree and slipped in. The small alcove was not much to look at, but the floor was lined with dried grass, and delicate carvings decorated the walls. She had a little box filled with food she swiped from vendors and passersby stored for the snowy season.
Yes, the forest took care of her, but she remembered the emptiness that snow brought. The forest can only provide her so much. Pest wasn’t like the bears that slept all season, or the birds that flew south for warmer weather. She was just a boring girl. Or was she a changeling? One old lady called her a girl but the man at the bread stand called her a changeling. People were confusing.
Pest crawled through her hidden space and sat next to the box. Rusty nails held the box’s somewhat rotted wood together. Its lid laid slightly ajar. Pest sighed and rested her chin on her knees. She needs a new box.
Concerned about her spoils, she carefully pried the box open. Berries and vegetables, some dried, some fresh, was piled in somewhat haphazardly together. The fresh things were meant to be eaten that week or set out under the glass shard at the top of the tree during a sunny day. The dried things were for the days of snow. Luckily, no critters or insects made their way into her box, but it was only a matter of time.
Tomorrow, she decided.
Pest would wander out of her forest and back into Vardaros for a new box and maybe some other things. Like bread. She liked bread. The breadman did not like her however, so it was a rare treat.
Shielded from the heavy gusts outside, Pest curled up with her back against the hole’s wall and laid her head on the dried grass. A rag to wrap herself with at night would be nice. Even with protection from the wind, the cold would seep into her little room like water in fabric. She couldn’t help but shiver as the cold began to billow through the entrance of her room.
Tomorrow could not come soon enough.
~-~-~-~
She was still cold when dawn came. Her little makeshift nest of grass did little to keep her warm. She flexed her toes to get them warming and moving. She rubbed her face against her worn sleeve until she could feel her face again. She really wanted to stay in her hole today. She didn’t want to go back to a city so soon, but she needed another rag to keep her warm. Her stomach grumbled in upset.
And she wanted bread.
It was the thought of bread that finally convinced her to step out into the world above. No snow, but she could taste the chill in the air. She had a few weeks before the snowy season really started. She swiftly yet quietly made her way to Vardaros, dodging tangle vines, sandpits, and living mushrooms that always tried to bite her.
She could feel the forest shifting under her feet. The forest was feeling playful today. It would take longer to find a way out. She pretended to stomp her foot on the ground and huff. “I’ll make it out by the time the sun is just starting to move!” she yelled before taking off, leaving a trail of soil and leaves behind her.
The forest decided to take that as a challenge.
Cliffs appeared out of nowhere, giant butterfly creatures with teeth chased after her, and holes that shot steam were only some of her obstacles as she raced through the woods. A grin stretched across her face as her feet barely touched ground. Had it been night time she would have joined the wolves and howled in delight, since it was day, she settled with laughter.
She ended up tripping and falling into one of the sand traps. She was spat out outside the forest and landed on her bum. The sun had slowly crawled into the sky and had only moved a finger stretch into the sky. Pest was slightly disappointed that the game was over, but she had a box to grab. She stood up, dusted herself off, and ambled down the dirt road leading to Vardaros.
~-~-~-~
The streets were crowded as per usual. People went about their daily lives and mostly ignored Pest. Usually that would feel like she tripped and hit a rock on her heart but today it worked in her favor. It’s easy to swipe bread no one wants and rags someone tossed, but a nice box that’s not falling apart would be pretty big to hide.
Pest wrinkled her nose in displeasure. She was crafty and fast. She’d figure something out. Luckily for her, the more people in a crowd the less they paid attention, not that they paid attention to her anyway.
The streets only grew more congested as she walked closer to Merchant’s Alley, a small street with nothing but vendors. She weaved between a sea of legs, keeping her head ducked down. Lively chatters and upbeat music filled the air, good. There’s probably some party going on in the square, which meant more people.
She spotted her prize a close distance away. The bread vendor set up his booth towards the outskirts of the events and—
Huh.
What do you know?
There, besides the stand, was a beautiful, somewhat large box.
Pest could not believe her luck! She couldn’t stop the wide grin from stretching across her face with all its bucktoothed glory. Not only was it a perfectly good box, it was full of misshapen loaves! They were probably waiting to be sold to some restaurant for soups and puddings. Too bad for him, Pest thought while rubbing her hands together. She was going to swipe it first.
She dusted her hands on her old, brown dress before stepping lightly towards the box. The man who worked the stand was talking to a customer. They laughed and playfully hit each other. Pest heard them exchange jokes and talked about the upcoming festival. She felt pride well in her chest at how accurate her guess was. With the two men enraptured in their conversation they didn’t notice Pest slowly reaching for the box.
A horse’s cry echoed through the alley with screams following soon after. The already bustling street transformed into pandemonium for some reason Pest could not see nor understand. However, she was not one to squander opportunities. She hefted the box up and took off running.
“HEY!” An angry shout rang from behind her. “GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE PEST!”
Another day, another angry shout. Would it kill the breadman to be more creative for once? Now getting bread was getting boring.
She focused on getting out of the city and refused to look back. With the chaos going around her, Pest was just another face in the crowd, even with the stolen box of bread. The swarm of bodies shielded her from pursuit and the man’s angry shouts were drowned out by the crowd’s panic. She heard more spooked horses and their agitated clops of the ground faintly behind her as she dodged swarming bodies. Pest’s need to escape was greater than the curiosity she had about what had the grownups were scared of.
Colorful buildings and banners blended together as her feet guided her to the edge of town. The tiled plaza faded to gravel as she passed the shops and gathering buildings. Houses filled with people spaced out along with occasional pens with livestock. The crowd started to thin and scatter like dandelions in the wind. Pest forced herself to run faster, gripping the wooden box as tight as she could.
She bumped into several people, not bothering to call out and apologize. She would like to eat and go home today, thank you. Whatever had the people spooked kept the attention off her, despite her rudeness. It paid to be small, Pest mused to herself. Other than a few curses underneath their breath, no one pursued her.
The houses grew sparser as she approached Vardaros’s city limits. The uncomfortable gravel path smoothed to dusty dirt. She slowed her sprint to an awkward jog, her arms shaking like the colored leaves still on the tree. Her steps mimicked those of a newborn deer as she slowed down, the danger of being caught lessening with every step.
Pest very much felt like those new deer. Limbs too long, unsure of what came next without a mother to guide her. She had to have a mother somewhere, right? All the animals had mothers; bears, birds, deer, even people!
Not Pest.
She dropped the box and collapsed beside it. Her limbs buzzed like the insects flying by her ear during the hot season, summer? She’s pretty sure. The snowy season was either called winter or autumn but she can’t remember. Why not call the seasons like they are? The flower season, the hot season, the colored leaf season, and the snowy season. The world is slightly spinning and her lungs are so full yet so empty she doesn’t understand—
A leafy tendril poked her cheek.
Pest blinked rapidly, but she couldn’t see. Well, actually she can, but she can’t really see it right now. She panted like the overworked hunting dogs she’s seen men have sometimes.
A delicate touch wrapped around her wrist, and Pest felt the ground move under her. She was dragged along by the tendril into a shaded area, soft grass slightly crunchy from browning. Her arms and legs felt heavy like the box. She couldn’t lift them. More leafy vines grabbed her and tossed her into the air like a straw doll.
Pest shrieked in shock as awareness flooded back into her body. Her surprise turned to awe as she flew up in the sky. The sun had not moved much from the highest point in the sky. She could see trees as far as the eye could see, rivers, white and rushing, winded its path through the land, clustered buildings of Vardaros, and the long stretches of sunflowers that went on forever.
The colors of the sunset decorated the trees that still had leaves. White, puffy clouds dotted the sky. The wind whistled in her ears. I feel like a bird! Pest thought to herself has she began to descend, fiery red hair whipping behind. A gleeful shout left her lips as she crashed into the tree, cradled by hanging vines. Leaves and twigs entangled themselves in her thick hair.
“Again!” she cried out in laughter. “That was amazing!” She threw her hands up and relaxed against the vines. The vines bounced her gently back and forth. One of the leafy tendrils that dragged her there tucked a piece of her unruly hair behind her ear, much to Pest’s amusement.
To her disappointment, the tree lowered her to the ground beside her box and tugged it once towards the forest. Pest sighed, but understood. She placed her hand on the tree. “Thank you, forest.” She said, resting her head on the tree’s trunk. “That was fun.”
Pest stepped away and gave a small wave. The great tree waved one of its branches in return, leaves flittering down as it did. Pest giggled to herself as a shower of golden leaves rained on her head. She picked up her box, her spirits much higher than they were prior, and hefted it onto her hip.
Small, dirty feet walked the familiar path to her home tree. Though she could not see them, Pest could hear the local pack of wolves tromping along besides her, hidden in the shadows. The wind started to pick up, its cool bite growing harsher as the forest shielded her from the sun. Squirrels and rabbits foraged for their own meals as birds flew overhead.
Pest could feel the ground shift beneath her feet. A sense of rightness and belonging washed over her. Her life before the forest was painful. Life outside the forest was painful. But here, safely hidden amongst the trees, bushes, and dirt, Pest could truly live.
The trees thinned once more giving way to her glade. Pest adjusted her box so she would feel more comfortable. She smiled at the thought of bread. It had been too long since her last loaf, and now she had a box full of them!
She walked the trodden path to her home before she dropped her box.
In front of her hole, was a girl a few years older than her, sleeping in her tree’s branches. Pest wanted to yell at her to go away and ask her why she was here, but she knew better than to sneak up on someone with a dagger strapped to their side.
The girl was curled up in a ball and shaking. Shocking white hair falling undone from its rope like tie. Pest knew it had a name; she didn’t bother to remember it.
There was two ways Pest could get her answers. She could wait, sneak in her hole and stay there until the mysterious girl woke up. Or… she eyed one of the pebbles in the field.
…
Pest threw the rock.