Yearn to Say

One

The smell of smoke still hung heavily in the village. For the last three days, the charred remains of the healers cabin - of her cabin - had sat on the edge of the village. And for the last three days, many had come to gaze at it.

"What a tragedy," They whispered, "The poor girl. She has nothing now, doesn't she?"

From the room she had been given in the inn, she could see it. Her childhood, her family, her memories - all were stolen by the flames. And all anyone cared to do for her was gawk at her misfortune.

You gazed out the window, arms crossed across your chest. Dagen, the butcher's son had come again. His name alone was enough to cause your blood to boil. The nerve of these men - no, these boys - to come around asking for your hand in marriage. So, soon, and only because you had no other choice.

Such news had caused many of the boys who lived in your small village had come to see you.  First to ask was Dagen, only hours after the fire had swept through your cabin. He was a slightly pudgy boy you had grown up with. Nothing much in appearance and less in smarts, but he would be the butcher someday and he could provide, and he knew that itself made him an attractive match. After that had come Balruk, the son of the most profitable merchant in the village. Although, that wasn't saying much. There weren't many merchants within the village.

Then had come Soril and Fabien, Eldar and Orion. All playmates from when you were a child. Earlier on the third day, Dracyian, the son of a retired knight who resided in the village had come to ask for your hand. When you told him you'd have to consider it, his father came later in the day. You figured he'd come to ask you to reconsider his son's proposal, and instead offered his own. The widowed knight, twice your age, if not more, had gotten onto one knee, telling you how he could provide as long as you provided him with more sons. You told him you had much to consider.

One or two of your suitors engaged to be wed to other girls, though your reputation as the loveliest in the village attracted them to you. Or perhaps it was your reputation as the only girl who dare not to fool around with the boys in the village. Your grandparents had always said you looked like your mother, that you were as beautiful and intelligent as she. Most days, you knew that was good. Not on days such as these. All it attracted then was attention from men you cared not for.

You knew you'd have to accept one of your proposals soon enough though. Gone in the fire was not just all your possessions and a home to keep you warm, but your grandparents, who had cared for you for many years. Truly, they were all you had. And know you had nothing, but a room at the inn that the owner had let you have until you had a new home, and a few dresses that one of the mothers of your old friends had given you.

Had the witcher known the girl he had cared for years before was in such distress, he would've come to find her without hesitation. Although, destiny and fate would bring the two together anyways. And pull them apart just as easily.