Shadow Lives

Chapter 1

Chea

My eyes wandered over the vast grasslands. It took a long time before the green reappeared from beneath the white. The winter was long, harsh, and especially cold. Luckily, we had enough wood to keep the stove burning; not everyone was so fortunate. Many children won't return to school, and the bakery's sales won't pick up anytime soon. Mr. Vonders will continue to complain about his struggling business for the coming weeks until people realize they need bread to live.

'Chea!' I startle out of my reverie, look at the wooden door flying open, and hide further behind the tree trunk. The almost entirely gray-haired man in his late forties glares with a thundercloud above his head over the yard. I know why he's standing there, and even if I had forgotten, the bunch of feathers in his hand is a good hint. The man looks around with a red face as he initially walks further away from the orchard. His head darts in all directions, searching for me. It doesn't take long for him to realize I'm not in the sheep pen.

'Chea, come here,' he calls again over the yard. No wonder Liza, his eighteen-year-old daughter, comes running out the door in her nightgown and stares at her father in surprise. Her two brown eyes look questioningly at the angry man while her disheveled brown hair clearly shows she just got out of bed.

'Dad, what are you doing?' she calls across the yard while rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The man glances in his daughter's direction for just a second before steadily walking further toward me.

'What do you think?' he angrily calls back to his utterly innocent daughter. Unlike her father, Liza doesn't need minutes and a half walk to look in my direction. Even though she's tens of meters away from me, I can see the disapproving look in her eyes. I can only smile at the scene unfolding before me. I'm distracted just long enough by my good mood to lose sight of the angry man. When I take my eyes off Liza and look around, I stare directly into the man's two blue eyes.

'Come down here, and do it now,' he unnecessarily calls from beneath the tree. I sigh deeply and push myself away from the tree trunk. My two brown shabby shoes balance on the meter-high branch. There's no escaping it. I jump down from the tree, land neatly in front of the angry man in the grass, and look at him.

'Yes, Tom?' I ask in a tone that only makes him, justifiably, angrier. He raises his hand with the bunch of feathers and shakes it in front of my eyes. I don't move a muscle and keep looking at him.

'Can you explain why there's another dead chicken in the coop?' I innocently shrug.

'Maybe they're sick again?' Tom doesn't appreciate my answer in the slightest and turns even redder. The vein in his forehead, just beside the scar, throbs before my eyes.

'Sick? They don't get torn apart and half-eaten from an illness!' The man has a point.

'A fox? Maybe even a wolf?' I continue my denial, although we both know better. Wolves don't live here, only cows, chickens, and sheep. The man looks at me as I did at that chicken a few hours ago, ready to tear apart.

'I think it's more likely a very big cat with yellow eyes about seventeen years old. How many times have I told you to leave those chickens alone? We have enough supplies, and you get enough food not to go hungry. Chickens are expensive and certainly not for eating raw.' This is the hundredth time he's given this speech, and each time the effect is short-lived. I've never found a way to control this murderous instinct and strongly doubt I ever will. No one has ever explained it to me, and I wonder if there's anyone who can, anyone like me.

'Sorry, Tom. Oh, is it that late? I have to get to the bakery,' I end our conversation before giving a polite smile, turning around, and walking away. I hear Tom sigh before saying the same words as every day.

'Be careful, and you know what I always say...'

'People work in a bakery; cats live in nature,' I finish his sentence before starting my walk toward the village. I walk this stone path every day, along the main road, towards Lentier.

If you follow the main road, you'll end up in Runcast, but I can't remember the last time I was there. Everything between the big city and the small village is forest and grasslands full of livestock. Lentier is small, with only a bakery, butcher, and goldsmith. Everyone knows each other, whether they like it or not. Tom's farm is just outside the village, and we have no neighbors.

Life on the farm isn't exactly exciting or full of special twists. Tom is not a man who travels often, and neither do we. The farm is the man's pride and joy, Lentier is small, and I was forbidden from going to Runcast when I was younger. The largest population in the village is over forty, and honestly, I'm not eager for a busy city like Runcast.

'Chea,' Mr. van Conder calls as soon as I walk into the village's main street. The older man lifts his hat in greeting and continues home. I smile without saying anything before entering the bakery. I've been spending time in this bakery for three years now. Normal girls my age are engaged, married, or pregnant. That fate has been spared me so far, thanks to Tom. A search for a suitable partner like Liza's is unthinkable for me given my condition.

'Good morning, Mr. Vonders,' I greet my boss. The chubby man in his fifties looks at me with a red and sweaty face. Sweat drips from his bald head to the start of his flour-stained brown shirt. The gray apron that just barely ties around his belly is even more stained.

'Morning,' he says, panting while taking out his aggression on the bread dough. I take one of the gray aprons from the pile, wrap it around my usual brown dress, and check the bun in my blonde hair to see if anything has shifted. Once I've confirmed everything is in place, I continue with my daily tasks.