Labyrinth

Prologue

The cold breeze whisped against the widow's skin, making goose bumps crawl up her arm. She shivered against the harsh wind, trying to escape the prinpricks of pain that came with the chill. She only wore a thin cotton shirt, the frayed trousers of her late husband, and sandals. Snow would be falling soon. She could smell it on the air. The cold wouldn't help the illness inside of her. She had a few hours at most. 

 The widow wasn't sure if her baby would survive. The baby was tucked away in the hand wagon the widow pulled, and as far as she knew, her tiny daughter was asleep. But who was to say she wasn't dead, already? The night was cold and ruthless, and all the widow had to wrap her daughter with were a couple of rags and their only blanket. The Widow was tired of pushing the hand cart. Her arms ached, and the cold wind was so fierce it felt like fire on her flesh. She couldn't feel her feet. But she continued on, down the dark cobblestone road. Only a few lights were still burning in the windows of the buildings. They were the only things guiding the widow. 

 I cannot last much longer. she thought, I can feel the sickness growing stronger inside of me. It will take over my body, soon. But I have to continue. I must find a place for my baby to stay. But maybe she wouldn't find a place. Maybe the baby would die with her, in the cold night. The thought urged her aching muscles on, desperate to take it somewhere. 

 An hour passed. The moon had barely moved, taunting her with it's slowness. The baby had started crying, to the widow's relief. At least her daughter wasn't dead. The widow became weaker, the sickness making her mind adled and her fingers lose feeling. An awful pain wreathed in her stomach. thirty minutes, at most, was all she had left. She stopped pushing. She couldn't do it, any farther. The baby's cries filled the cold night, swept away on the wind. The widow stumbled away from the handles, to the back of the wagon. The baby was wreathing in her swaddling, kicking and wailing with her little pink mouth arched in an O shape. The widow scooped her up into her arms, and carefully made her way to a random door, her feet unsteady. She knocked. Seconds ticked by, the fire in her belly screaming in unison with the child. Finally, the door opened. 

 "Hello?" asked the man behind the wood. The widow couldn't see his face. The illness had crept to her eyes, making everything grey. She thrust the wailing baby deftly into his arms. He might have yelped in surprise. She couldn't hear anything besides ringing. 

 "Take care of her." she wheezed, slipping to her knees. She felt the man crouching down next to her, shaking her shoulder. He tugged her inside the house, and warmth touched the widow's skin. She had just enough energy to smile at the blanket of heat. 

 He might have been saying something, but she couldn't tell. With her last ounce of strength she grabbed his arm, pulling him close. 

 "Her name is Kaem." she whispered. She closed her eyes. Nothing had seemed more welcoming than darkness. It reached it's arms out to her, and all she had to do was jump into it. She lept into the inky abyss, and peace filled her body. She was free. 

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 Asa was shocked. He held the dead woman in his free arm, the other arm occupied with the screaming baby. 

 "Gone." he whispered to himself, as he stared at the limp body, "She's gone." The baby whimpered, extending her chubby pink hands. The woman had a smile on her blue lips, frozen on her face. She stared at nothing. Asa wasn't sure why she died. He couldn't see any sign of injury. The only things she had said rang through his head. Take care of her, and Her name is Kaem. He glanced down at the sobbing child. She had a single red curl on her dumpy head, similar to the flowing red mane of her mother. 

 "Kaem." he said the the baby. She stopped crying, looking up at him. Her large blue eyes stared at Asa, as if she expected something from him. He didn't know what else to do. He set the baby down on the ground, (Asa didn't know much about babies,) and dragged the dead woman into his home, setting her by the fire. He couldn't leave her body out in the cold. Her last smile had been because of the heat. Asa picked up the baby, and brought her into the kitchen, feeding her some of the goat milk in his cabinets. What else was there? 

  "I suppose I could take you down to the orphanage." he told her, as she slurped at the goat milk cup he held up for her. She stared at him with that expectant stare. The orphanage was a horrible place to grow up, but she didn't seem to show a way of responding. "Stop staring at me like that. It's rude." he ordered. She ignored him, and seemed to stare harder, with those big blue eyes. He sighed. "Fine. Be that way. You'll be gone by tomorrow."