Risk

Chapter II

Jasta awoke to the early morning crow of a neighbor's rooster. Although she had worked hard all through the week, her muscles were well-toned from years of work and she didn't feel a single sore muscle.

It was the day off, so Jasta allowed herself a few minutes of stretching before she crawled out from underneath the heavy wool blanket. She stretched her arms up in the air, yawning. She winced as her bare feet hit the cold, earthen floor.

She shivered slightly. The fire must have gone out. She heaved herself up and walked into the main room. Sure enough, there was nothing in the hearth but a pile of ashes with a charred log in the middle.

It wasn't long before she had the fire lit again. She held out her numb hands towards the warm blaze. She was alone in the room. Either her mother and sister had slept in later than she or they had already gone outside.

She pushed the front door open and grunted when it hit something hard, throwing her off. The hard thing moved and she pushed her way into the open air, grinning when the morning sun filtered through the branches and touched her face softly, like a kiss.

She looked down to see what had been blocking the door. Sitting there on the ground was Rose. She looked tired and had dark circles under her eyes.

"Why are you sitting out here? Do you want to catch a cold?" she said in a teasing tone. Rose, in reply, only pointed to the corner of the yard, a giant yawn stretching her mouth wide.

Jasta looked to where she had pointed, her gaze resting on her mother, standing over Esa, the pregnant pig. But not pregnant anymore. Six tiny piglets were laying beside the big sow, suckling. She instantly understood. Esa had given birth during the night and Rose and her mother had not woken her up to help.

"I would have woken you up, but by the time I had thought about it, Esa was already done. And besides, you were so deeply asleep that I doubt even an earthquake could have awoken you." Her tone was at first serious but it melted into a joking tone near the end.

Jasta gave a light chuckle and walked over to where the tiny pigs were laying. They were so cute. They all seemed to be mini copies of their mother. She reached down and picked up the smallest. It was mostly black with several blotches of white. The little milk-wet mouth continued moving even after she removed it from the mother's teat.

After a few moments, she set the tiny piglet down. It immediately started suckling again. She smiled in delight. She always loved seeing the teeny pigs. Usually, it was a neighbor who had a litter, but this time the small babies were in her own front yard. She would see them every day. Most of the villagers raised pigs unless they had some other way of making a living. Like the bakers or the shopkeeper.

"Hullo! Jasta!" she heard her name called and looked up to see the familiar face of Etta. Etta was the closest thing to a best friend that Jasta had. She knew everyone in the village, from the old widow, Gredle, to the newest baby, Symon. But the only person that she was truly friends with was Etta.

"Hello, Etta." Jasta returned cheerfully.

"Jasta, I was thinking that we could spend the day together. It is the day off, and I'm sure that you would rather spend the day with me rather than sitting around in that damp, little shack." Etta said laughingly. Jasta and Etta had a long-standing joke. They would each take any chance that they could to criticize the other's house. So far, Jasta had made the most remarks, but Etta had more to make fun of, so it only made sense that she was quickly closing the gap.

"No, I think that I would rather sit in the meadow. After all, your house is just so dry that my nose bleeds just looking at it. I don't think that I could stand another minute being in the same village as it." She replied with her own biting remark, careful to add a smirk at the end to clarify that she had been joking.

"But seriously, Jasta. What do you want to do today?" Etta said, exasperated.

"Our wood box is getting very low, and I'll be too busy tomorrow, so I think that I'll fill it today. You can help if you want."

"Oh dear. What am I supposed to do with you? You are always thinking about one job or another!" Etta threw her hands up in an exaggerated gesture of her annoyed exasperation.

"It's not my fault," Jasta said, her tone mockingly hurt.

"Oh, but it is your fault." Said Etta slyly. "As soon as you could walk, you threw yourself on a needle and a stick of tinder. And now, the needle and kindling are still in your blood, making you work at every available chance." She acted dead serious at first but her face melted into a wide grin as she finished.

As they walked to the woodpile, Jasta admired Etta's lovely features. She had pretty golden hair, the exact shade of the pale yellow butterflies that favored the meadows around the village. Her eyes were the color of the sky after a spring rain—a nice, blueish gray. Her face was heart-shaped and she had rosy cheeks. It seemed that all of the boys in the village had given Etta flowers or even their brief attentions at one time or another, and it was only a matter of time before she picked one to settle down with.

Jasta had never been given flowers, or even looked at much by the boys. She felt a prick of jealousy but quickly quenched it. Etta was her best friend. She didn't want the simple fact of not receiving flowers to get in the way of the only real friendship that she had. Who cared about those rowdy boys anyways?

They were very close to the woodpile now. Jasta could see it through the trees up ahead.

The men of the village had all pitched in and made a huge woodpile in the woods at the edge of the very last row of houses. The reason was that some of the villagers didn't have a man in their household to do the harder work. Like chopping wood. Her family was one of them that used the wood, along with the old widow and a few other only-female households.

She loaded her arms up with wood. Etta did the same and they were soon on their way back to Jasta's house. They walked back and forth until the wood box in front of Jasta's house was filled to the brim. A few extra pieces were stacked along one side.

Jasta spent the rest of the day with Etta. They took turns helping each other with chores that they would be too busy to do during the week.

Etta's family were the town blacksmiths. Etta's upper arms were thick with muscles from lifting heavy blades and tools of metal, and helping bellow the furnaces and forge. The grueling work of the forge had done nothing to mar her lovely face, though. It just meant she was strong and nice to look at. It wasn't a common thing. There had once been a girl that was born as lovely as an angel to look upon, but had been so week and sickly that she had hardly left the house for the whole seven years that she'd lived.

Sunset seemed to come all too quickly. Jasta joked as she walked away but she was heavy with sadness. She knew that she would most likely not be able to see Etta until the next day-off. A whole week away. She knew that Etta felt the same way, and she could see the slight twitch in Etta's smile that meant that she was hiding sadness as well.

Jasta looked at her hands as she walked home. They were covered in dirt from working in Etta's and her own family gardens. She stopped by the rain barrel of her way home, scrubbing her hands until they were a bright, clean pink. Her boots squelched in the mud. The road was made of dirt and they had been getting a lot of spring rains.

At last, she was home. Wafting through the cracks in the house, she could smell the delicious odor of meat stew. She pushed the door open, smiling at the high-pitched grunts of the new piglets. Esa was lying in the corner as if still exhausted from her early morning labor.

The lamp on the table was lit and it cast a cheerful light over the whole room. There was a large pot of stew over the fire, over which her mother was stooped, stirring. She could tell by the smell that her mother had used the last of the winter's potatoes. The stew would be hearty and would most likely last for a few days. Her mouth started watering. She had only eaten peas from the gardens that day and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

The night passed with merry conversation and when it was time to go to bed, Jasta found herself reluctant to leave the warm atmosphere. She was contently full and she wasn't bothered by the itchy wool blanket as she drifted off to sleep.