“Ora, it’s time.” Daks ruffled his daughter’s dense, blond curls.

  “Yes, Daidi.” Ora picked up the weathered bucket with a grunt.

  He smiled. He opened the door, and she skipped out into the cool, autumn air.

  “I’m going to play with the chickens!” She gazed up at him, her green eyes sparkling. “No, milysh. Don’t play with the chickens now. We need to feed all the animals and milk the cows. We can play with the chickens later.”

  Ora’s grin faded into a scowl. She sighed. “Yes, Daidi…”

  Daks shivered from the lonely morning breeze. The sun’s golden glow was barely a halo on the horizon. Quin always loved this time of day—when the world was still quiet. More than once, she would stop to watch the sun rise over the cliffs of Glaum on the way to morning chores.

  The little one outran her father, her hair dancing behind her. She raced to the chicken cype, threw it open, and disappeared inside.

  Ora’s presence in the cype brought about the furious fluttering of wings and angry squawkings.

  “Careful with the eggs, Rae-Rae!” His pace quickened.

  Ora’s scream cut through the ruckus. At first, Daks thought she was expressing her delight but quickly discerned the note of terror. His heart stopped. “Ora!”

  Had a wolf gotten into the cype? No wolves had encroached on the farm since Daks and his family had put up the stone fence years ago. Even the smallest wolf could not fit in the cype. But a fox could—what if it was rabid?

  He couldn’t lose her, too.

  Daks broke into a run toward the cype, about to break down the wall, when Ora emerged—no bucket—and ran into his arms. He embraced her and then pushed her back to see her face. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

  She showed no signs of injury.

  She pointed to the cype. “There’s a girl!”

  “A girl??”

  “I think so! She scared me! She was sleeping!”

  As Ora was explaining, a matted and ratty mass of deep brown hair stumbled out of the side door of the cype, and somewhere underneath it did appear to be a young woman. She was smattered in straw and feathers. When her face appeared, her eyes were red and squinting.

  Daks pushed Ora behind him. “What are you doing in my cype?”

  The girl grimaced. “Please,” she said with a whisper he could hardly hear.

  “I said, why are you here? Who are you? Are you here to steal from me????”

  The girl cowered at the sound of his raised voice, covering her ears, her eyes barely open. She struggled to respond, her voice raspy and forced. “Please—please—I just needed a place to sleep—please—”

  Daks quieted his voice. Was she hurt? “What happened to you?”

  “My name—is Prim. Please—please could I sleep a bit longer in your cype? I don’t wish to bother you. I’ll leave as soon as I’m done sleeping. I won’t take anything. Please.”

  “Do you have any weapons?”

  “I have nothing.”

  Quin would want him to help this girl. Damn her soft heart. “No, no—Prim. Come inside. Let us get you a bed.”

  “I don’t think I should…dangerous…”

  “Oh, no, I won’t hurt you. You are safe here.”

  She drooped, resigned to what he had said.

  Ora ran to the young woman before Daks could say anything. She grabbed the woman’s hand. “Come to our home! We have so many blankets!”

  “Oh—thank you—” Prim stumbled forward. “I’m sorry—my head hurts so much.”

  She had been drinking. “Talk quietly, Ora.”

  The woman stumbled and nearly fell, but Daks caught her arm. He helped keep her upright as they turned. She definitely smelled of spirits. Daks and Ora hobbled Prim to the house.

  “Open the door,” Daks said.

  Ora sprinted ahead and opened the door.

  Daks walked the woman into the small entryway, and Ora closed the door behind them. “Clear the sofa, Rae-Rae. Quick.”

  Ora ran to the sofa and yanked back the pillow and the colorful quilt on it. Across from the sofa, the stone fireplace quietly crackled.

  “Atcha, Prim, now, sit yourself down.”

  Prim dropped onto the sofa, her eyes already closing. She mumbled, “Thank you…thank you…”

  What would Quin do? She was so great in situations like this. Daks turned to Ora. “Go grab some blankets from the chest—and a pillow! I’ll start some tea.”

  “Yes, Daidi.” Ora ran upstairs.

  Daks grabbed some water from the water pump outside and brought it in.

  Ora was standing by the sofa with the blankets and pillow. “She’s already asleep, Daidi.”

  Sure enough, the girl was nestled under the quilt, sleeping deeply.

  “Well, let’s not wake her. We’ll go finish with the animals and make her a bed in the barn for tonight.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  As Daks and Ora milked the red cows, Flu and Clover, Ora said, “Daidi?”

  “Yes, Rae-Rae?”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I…think she’s a little sick.”

  “Oh, no! Will we get sick, too?”

  “It’s a different kind of sick. We’ll be fine.”

  “Oh. That’s odd.”

  Daks chuckled.

  “Daidi?”

  “Yes, Ora.”

  “Where’d she come from?”

  “I don’t know. We can ask her when she wakes up.”

  “Oh.” Her little fingers squeezed Flu’s teats with all her might and grunted.

  Daks smiled.

  “Daidi?”

  Daks suppressed a sigh. “Yes, Ora.”

  “Why was she sleeping in the chicken cype?”

  “I think she’s scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “I don’t know, milysh. I don’t know.” Daks sighed. “Just be careful you don’t ask her a lot of questions. We don’t want to scare her off.”

  “Atcha.”

  “Great milking, Ora. You’re a natural.”

  She squealed with delight. “You always say that!”

  “Well, it’s always true, milysh.”

  The girl with the wild hair slept until twilight, tossing and turning and groaning. She finally stirred as Daks added a few logs to the fireplace and Ora played quietly with her doll. Slowly, quite slowly, Prim’s head arose above the couch, groggy, her hair more matted than ever.

  Daks quelled a chuckle. “Ah, there you are. Feel better?”

  She froze, the minimal color draining from her face, eyes wide.

  “Daem, are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

  She gripped the edge of the couch with white knuckles.

  Daks sat down in the nearby armchair and leaned forward. “Daem? Daem? Prim?”

  “I…don’t feel well.”

  “Do you need a bucket?” Ora asked.

  Daks smiled. Just like her mother.

  “No, no.” Prim brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, staring into the burning fire.

  Daks rose and crossed over to the fireplace. He picked up the wooden spoon laying on the range and stirred the pot of brothy soup. “Would you like some soup? It’s nearly ready.”

  No answer.

  He glanced back. “Prim?”

  She jolted. “Oh—yes?”

  “You must be starving. Want some soup?”

  The realization seemed to suddenly occur to her: “Yes—yes, I would.”

  Daks directed Prim to the wash basin so she could at least wash her face. It was too late for a bath.

  Ora ate at the kitchen table while Daks and Prim ate dinner in the living room. With the house being a modest size, the kitchen table was practically in the living room.

  “What brings you so far from the city?” Daks asked. “You don’t look like you’re from the farmland.”

  He watched the wheels turn as Prim considered what she would say.

  “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re running away from something.”

  She stopped chewing, her eyes darting up at him. Daks caught the all too familiar glimmer of alarm. She swallowed.

  Daks looked back at Ora, her bowl, long empty, and her eyes fixed on Prim, now hungry for information. “Go play upstairs. Don’t forget your doll.”

  Ora’s face scrunched up. “But, Daidi!”

  Daks gave her the look, and she rushed upstairs. She stopped at the top of the staircase, but he jabbed his finger toward her bedroom, his lips tight, and she darted inside.

  Once her bedroom door had closed, Daks retrieved his pipe from atop the fireplace mantle as well as his can of tobacco. He added a few pinches of tobacco to the pipe’s chamber, pressing it down. Then he took a string of wood from a log on the nearby stack. He lit the piece in the fire and then used it to light the tobacco. He sat down in his chair again.

  Gazing into the fire, he exhaled a large puff of smoke.

  “You were right.”

  Daks turned to her.

  “I am running away.” Prim’s voice was no longer strained, and her tone was matter-of-fact.

  “From who?”

  She was silent.

  “From your parents?”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “I don’t have any.”

  “The Spotters then?”

  Silence.

  Daks sighed. “I don’t know anyone who hates Cyndrillen’s government more than me. The Maeir is a joke who has been in office for far too long; the Consel is corrupt, made up of thieves, prostitutes, and murderers; and the Spotters are just the arm of the Maeir and the Consel. The law has become a terrible joke.

  “But I have the right to know what kind of person I let into my home today. I have a daughter to think of. So—” He looked Prim straight in the eyes. “—Can I trust you? Can Ora trust you?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  He examined her for any signs of dishonesty. Then he leaned back in the chair. He breathed smoke in and out.

  “Are you going to send me away?”

  Daks looked up.

  Prim’s eyebrows furrowed as she rubbed her fingers.

  “Do you have anywhere to go?”

  She shook her head.

  “I won’t—not presently. I could use help. It’s harvest time. My cousins help, but it’s not enough. And Ora is still young enough that she is limited on what she can do.”

  She gazed at him carefully. Finally, she said, “I don’t have any experience on a farm.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “Some.”

  “I think that would work. I can show you how to cook, and me and the others can show you how to work the farm.”

  She nodded.

  “You can stay until the end of winter. You’ll have roof over your head, food, and a place to sleep during the hard months.” He reached out his hand. “Atcha?”

  Prim grasped his hand, holding it in a surprisingly firm fashion, despite the smallness of her hand in his. “Atcha.” She sat back against the couch, gazing into the fire. She still looked tired.

  “Well, we prepared a bed for you in the barn. Come. I’ll take you to it.”

  Daks took Quin’s coat off the hook by the door and gave it to Prim. “Here. It’s starting to get cold.” He grabbed an arm-full of wood.

  Prim carried a lamp as the young farmer led the way to the barn. Inside, it was tidy with some hay bales in the corner and ten stalls for the cows and horses. There was a wood-burning stove. As they walked toward the stove, she could see a small pile of hay bales with several blankets and a pillow spread upon it. There was even an unlit lantern sitting on the stove.

  She sat on the makeshift bed. It was quite soft for a pile of hay and blankets. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Daks went to work at starting a fire in the stove. “I hope it suffices.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Better than a chicken cype.” He chuckled.

  She chuckled nervously. “Oh…yes…I’m…so sorry about that. I know I was quite the fright.”

  “I’ve woken up in worse places…and I’ve looked much worse.”

  Sheepishly, Prim looked down.

  “In all seriousness, I woke up in a fountain in the middle of the market district on a busy day. Soaked, half-dressed, and no memory of how I got there.”

  “Oh shite!” she exclaimed. Then she clamped her hand over her mouth, looking at him in alarm.

  Daks gasped. “A dirty word? And here I thought you were a proper daem.”

  A pretty smile lit up the woman’s fair face. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, I’m sure that’s what you thought when I stumbled out of the cype, barely able to walk and covered in straw.”

  “I have a feeling you’ve said things worse than that.”

  “I grew up in the Bas district. The tots there say worse than that. We don’t have the time to learn more refined ways to speak our minds. And I grew up in an orphanage so yes, I’ve said a lot of things that would make some blush.”

  “I’ve never heard one good thing about an orphanage.”

  “There’s a reason for that. Thank Wakeman, I was finally rescued from that place. We all knew Daem Makara hated us.” Prim’s smile faded. “I couldn’t even keep my eyes open this morning. If you were not a good man, there would have been nothing I could do to defend myself. Thank you for…being friendly, I guess.”

  Daks scratched his beard. “Oh, well, you’re welcome. It was nothing.”

  “It was everything. I had a terribly bad day and then an awful night and was in the worst state of mind…it’s still not so great. I’m blessed that I ended up in your chicken cype and not somewhere worse, like you said. Truly. Thank you.”

  “Well, I’m glad I could help. Tonight should be a much better night for you.”

  “It very much has been already.”

  “I’m glad of that. Well, I better get to bed myself. Get some rest. Good night, Quin.”

  She looked at him quizzically. “Good night.”

  Daks sauntered back to the house. Everything was so calm, and the half-moon was so bright tonight. It had been an unusual day, for sure. Prim was an interesting girl—woman.

  He looked in on Ora in her room to find she had fallen asleep on the floor, playing with her dolls. He gently placed Ora on her bed and pulled her boots off before tucking her in. Then he kissed her on the forehead and blew out the candle on her nightstand.

  Downstairs, Daks laid a pillow on the end of the sofa and dropped a folded green quilt on the other end. After dropping a few more logs onto the fire, he flopped onto the sofa. Then he pulled the quilt up over himself.

  He gazed at the fire as his eyelids grew heavy. The flames steadily revived, creeping across the logs and engulfing them. The logs darkened. Thin pieces of the logs frayed and then disappeared entirely. Cracks lurked across the burning logs.

  Had he called her Quin?