A Collection of Fantasy and Science Fiction Short Stories - Special ...

logs onto a sheet, carefully selecting each one, checking for any wetness or other factors
that might cause it to burn poorly. When I am done, I wrap the edges of the sheet around
the wood, squat, and pick up the bundle with a soft grunt from the effort. It is heavier
than I expected, but lift it up and head towards my nightly route to the manor’s baths.
I finish with my work just in time to be one of the first servants in line for dinner.
Cook places the pots of food on the thick wood table and we all help ourselves to his hot
stew and warm bread. I sat down in a corner and quietly ate every last bit. I even
scrapped the edges of the bowl with bread and had second servings of each. There was
chatter surrounding me as the other servants conversed about their day, but I don’t like
speaking while I’m eating, so I stay out of the conversations. This leaves me with a quiet
life, but I like it that way.
* * *
It is hours after moonrise when I wake from my pallet by the kitchen hearth as
someone runs past me. I yawn and stretch and check on the fire. It is still going strong,
and it must, for it keeps the main part of the house warm through the night and I have to
attend to it at all times. I stand up and walk outside to see a sight that I was not expecting.
Aken is standing in the snow with a bag in his hand. He frowns deeply to himself
as he turns around in a circle as if confused about which direction he should take.
“Are you alright?” I step out of the shadows cast by the house and he gives a
startled little jump.
“Saran, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
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