The Raven Girl

Chapter 27

He had heard something. He was sure of it. Albeit quiet- a whisper, a thread of the song he could not catch- but he'd heard it all the same, and it would drive him to the brink of insanity if he didn't find its origin sooner or later.

However, his hasty questioning had led to its silence, and Asta's denial of its existence had got him no further to finding out where and when it had first been sung. Perhaps Eirik would have seen it as an obsession, a fickle matter that should not have had his brother so captivated, so consumed, but Rickard saw it as a puzzle, and puzzles were there to be solved.

He had not taken Asta for a liar, but her utter refusal of the fact she'd been humming seemed to prove him otherwise mistaken, unless she had somehow not been aware of it. Saying that, he was sure she would no longer have the nerve to lie to his face. Not after having been broken over and over again, until she was so broken she was barely reparable. Yet here she was, appearing as though she had never witnessed what she'd been through, able to talk to her torturer- smile at him, even- where others wouldn't be able to look on his face.

If anything, it demonstrated so vividly the strength she bore. Not physical, mind, for she- as a young, once wealthy woman- had not been challenged in such a field as this, but mental, and she struck Rickard as being the strongest he'd ever known.

That was enough to intrigue him, for the words that stumbled from her mouth were equally surefooted as they were quiet: attributes anybody would assume to be quite opposing in nature. However, Asta would say things that Rickard could assure wholeheartedly none in her position would and she continued to question his family even in knowing the risks. She was irrepressible; something within her refused to be crushed.

She was quite a bit ahead of him and almost oblivious, even, to his presence behind her, taking each step with a joy that spoke wonders to her real personality and not the one forced with a knife. Just as Asta watched the deer that crept about the gnarly roots of trees that reached several feet above the ground, Rickard watched her, treading with caution to avoid causing unnecessary alarm, mirroring Asta's movements to remain out of sight. It gave him a strange sense of contentment, one he hadn't felt in many a year.

The darkness was growing, a bitter cold wind rustling through evergreen needles and spindly branches, stripped bare from the increasingly wintery days. His thoughts turned to Asta, who seemed not to have noticed the cool night around them, fixated on pursuing the same deer that knew its way around the forest far better than either of them, drawing them into an unfamiliar wilderness stocked with endless thistly plants and weeds Rickard could barely see, let alone avoid.

These thoughts, though perhaps acting as a warning, distracted him. Soon enough, he lost Asta, the trees hiding any sliver of moon with which he could find her by. Why had he not returned to the castle sooner? He'd noticed the gloominess falling about the woods a while ago, but, of course, he ignored it, giving himself the excuse that he did not want to drag her away from happiness so soon.

The real reason, however, was probably more along the lines that he did not want to return to his brother, answer questions that would only bring out the dishonest and disloyal parts of him- parts he had buried long ago.

"Asta!" he called out, in vain. Useless. He'd have to search, for she was not about to answer to his beck and call, scampering back to his heel like a dog.

He pushed at the bracken in his path, tearing down the bracken and undergrowth blindly, hands, arms and face splintered with thorns, his eyes no longer aiding him in avoiding such injuries. He couldn't care though- what were a few scratches? It was the lack of sight that distressed him most. He relied most heavily upon his sight- the light that shone brightly on the countryside, far away from Eirik's court, was the only tangible thing he valued these days. Grasping out in front of him, Rickard could only hope he was still following the path and not heading off into the trees. He cursed himself again for not leaving sooner; what a cowardly mistake that had been, and now he was paying for it.

He couldn't tell how long it'd been, but he had grown tired of chasing her long ago and was thoroughly chilled, fingertips like ice. His eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness now, and he could pre-empt the majority of plants, but this by no means a great improvement. Though a tempting option, he did not turn back and give up, allowing himself to be dependent on his brother's forgiveness, which he knew to be a very fleeting thing. Rickard had gone against his orders, and try as he might to make Eirik see the harmlessness of the situation, he knew it would all be for nought and Asta would be punished all the more brutally, simply for going along with Rickard's offer.

Perhaps he should've returned only to fetch a lamp, its flame casting a low light around the pathway, allowing him to see clearly, at the very least, what was in front of him. Maybe he would have found her quicker then. But then again, even that option came with its flaws. For one, he would be leaving her, giving up, if only temporarily. And, for another, he'd have the chance of running into his brother, or someone who knew him. Their greeting would conclude in a similarly horrific manner, whoever the person.

So, regardless of the logic behind his choices, Rickard continued wandering aimlessly round the forest, bitter thoughts and regrets adding all the more weight upon his feet. It was at this point, though, that he awakened from the brainless motion, for he had heard a sound, unnatural to that part of the forest, or any part as a matter of fact, but at the same time it seemed very natural indeed, more so even than the wildlife itself.

It was singing, distinctive even through the thickly insulated forest with all its leaves and branches. Instantly, Rickard knew it to be Asta, for the tune was the same- a lilted, cheerful song- but the words she now put to it were rather odd and ill fitting. Well, the ones he could hear.

From what he could catch of the lyrics, he pieced together that the song on her lips was not a happy one, as he first imagined, but rather bleaker in comparison. It was chilling to say the least to hear her sing them with such a jubilant voice when they were very much otherwise, speaking of the dead with little remorse, as if simply surveying a play, describing what was happening in a factual manner. 

Our children lay in broken heaps of burning bones

They share their grave with those who share their fate

Where could she have learnt such a song? He searched his mind thoroughly, but could think of nothing. It was all he could do to remember as many words as possible, so he might take them back with him to the library, filled to the brim with old documents and books aplenty- far more than his own castle held within its archives- and delve deeper into its sombre verses at a later date.

The forest air is murky with the stench of burning flesh

And all had known the fire had spread

Shaking his head, he ignored those poignant words, focusing all his effort on finding Asta. There would be time enough for thought once he had recovered her and got her back inside the castle grounds safely, away from Eirik and his unforgiving stature, and to do that he need only to have followed the song, carefully storing any lyrics he caught along the way for later.

Soon enough, he found her, standing in the middle of the forest clearing, deer long gone and out of sight. She didn't care though; she was preoccupied, attention on something else entirely now.

She laughed, suddenly, a sweet smile spreading on her face, eyes lighting up as if someone had spoke of something very funny indeed. But no one was there, except for her and Rickard, and nobody had said anything.