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4, A Boyish Exterior

They may have left the abbey with anger simmering inside them, but now, Britta felt numb. She felt as if when the full gravity of the situation hit, she would keel over. She couldn't begin to understand what had happened but knew it had something to do with The Voice. The loss of control scared her more then she would have her sister know. 

They walked to edge of the forest in the wavering light. Diana spread out the blankets and they wrapped themselves in the shawls to sleep. Britta couldn't get comfortable. It was the first time she had slept outside the safety of the Abbey's walls. The dark forest could hold any kind of evil inside it. Every time she heard an owl hoot she jumped and was jerked wide awake. Her life was crumbling down around her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to rebuild it anymore. Diana had drifted off to sleep, despite the uneasiness Britta was no doubt threading through her. 

The morning found them gazing out at the wilderness ahead of them. There were dark shadows under Britta's eyes, and her back ached from her curled up position. The woods in front of them, White Hart woods, were thick with every kind of plant in the area. Sunlight didn't seem to reach the forest floor, where brambles trailed, their thorns sharper than cats' claws.

"We should put on the trousers." Said Britta finally. Diana looked reluctant, although she'd been the one to grab them. "Think about it." Said Britta firmly. "The only way to explain the whole thing at the Abbey is gunpowder. It will look like we've tried to hurt Mistress Core. The whole village will be looking for two girls, they'll never find two boys." Britta untied the bundle. Her heart ached when she realized they really would never be able to return to the Abbey.

Diana nodded wearily. "How long will we have to keep this up?"

"We can say we're looking for work or something. When we have enough we can set ourselves up and begin our life again."

"Do you think the news will have gotten out yet?" Diana asked.

"Obviously." Said Britta, deciding there was no longer any point in talking gently and tactfully; this was her own sister after all. "The Strange Man – He'll have people looking for us too. Do you think we are the princesses he mentioned?"

Diana shrugged. "He must've wanted us for something." She said uncertainly. "We never knew our parents." 

"Then how come he's never seen us before?" Asked Britta. Diana did not answer, only passed her sister one of the two trousers they'd grabbed off the line.

Britta examined them. The trousers were made of a light, strong material, softer than anything they had ever owned, the ends were evidently supposed to be tucked into boots as they were long and would drag on the ground.

"The ends of these will get covered in mud, we need to keep them clean somehow."

They had to cut them off, folding the cut-offs into the makeshift bag. It left them with a garment that ended just below the knee. Britta then pulled her long hair out of its tight bun and gripped the hunting knife tightly in her hand. Hesitating slightly, knowing she couldn't undo it, she sawed through it so it fell just below her earlobes. With less weight, her hair fell into tight, wiry curls. Diana's hair when it was cut similarly looked less feminine as it was straight.

After looking down at herself, Britta pulled the ends of the trousers back out and bound her chest tight. Under the loose clothing, her curves were now barely visible. Diana did the same, kicking dirt over the hair.

Diana smiled slightly, taking in their appearance, then, her smile froze. "We're going to have to be careful to keep this up. Speak deeper and don't smile, you'll give yourself away."