My mother married a demon.

That's what they said down in the village. I had often wanted to correct them because this statement was wrong on two points.

First of all, my father was a tiernan, not a demon. Tiernan are benevolent nature spirits that typically avoid human contact. However, there were many stories of people meeting tiernan without knowing until afterward. They are magical beings that bring life and beauty to the world around them.

But, to the villagers, I suppose all of that can be equated to demons.

Second, my mother hadn’t really married my father. Can one marry a mountain? Or a tree? Or a river?

No, she hadn’t married him, but she had loved him. She loved him, and he visited her for a season. Then he continued on his way, and I was born the following year.

Now, tiernan have the ability to take any form that they wish. They can disguise themselves as humans, animals, or any natural formation. Unfortunately, this trait isn’t passed on to their half-tiernan offspring. So, even if my mother had been able to hide the origins of her pregnancy, everyone knew the truth as soon as they saw my yellow-tinted skin and crescent-shaped eyes.

My mother, who had grown up in a very conservative household, was immediately thrown out by her family. And the rest of the villagers—a superstitious lot—wanted nothing to do with us either.

That’s how my mother and I came to live in our little cottage in the woods. Well, I say cottage, but it was actually a hut. It was made of woven boughs that were chinked with mud, and a thatched roof. It had only one room, where we slept, cooked, mended, washed, and all else.

It was the only home I had ever known, and I loved it dearly. No child could've been happier than I was in my early years. I had my mother, our home, food and clothing provided through my mother's hard work, and the wonders of the woods.

In my mind, I thought that nothing could ever go wrong.

 

***

“Tiff,” Mother called. “Where have you gone?”

I wasn’t far from the cottage, but I was sitting in the mud behind some scrub brush. I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t completed the task that she had given me that morning. I had completely forgotten.

“T’phani?” Mother’s voice grew in volume.

I sat there, squishing mud between my fingers, debating on what would get me the least amount of scolding. The amount of filth on my person meant that I wouldn’t escape no matter what. She had just done the laundry the day before, and I only had one other set of clothing.

“Theophana!”

My heart jolted, and my body followed suit. She had used my full name. I was at the mercy of the gods now.

I stood up slowly. The mud plopped from my hands, sounding distinctly glum.

“Yes, Mother?” I responded meekly.

Her blue eyes locked on me, making me feel like a mouse spotted by a cat. “Why didn’t you answer me?” she asked, her voice rumbling even at this distance.

I wiped my hands on my skirt, trying to hide what I had been doing. “I…was distracted.”

Mother took a deep breath. “What were you doing over there?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Her calloused hand pushed back the strands of brown hair that had escaped from her braid onto her face. “Come here.”

I inched away from the mud, to distance myself from the evidence. "What do you need?" I asked uncomfortably.

“Come here,” she repeated.

“I just remembered I have things to do,” I said. “I will go do them.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed. “I said, come here.”

I heaved a sigh. “Maybe I’ll have better luck in my next life,” I muttered to myself as I emerged from the brush.

Mother gasped when she saw the state of my dress. She seemed completely speechless for at least three breaths.

“What…? How…? What in the world…?” she blustered.

I hung my head low. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

I didn’t often call her that anymore—after all, I was almost twelve—but it seemed as good a tactic as any to try and soften the blow.

Suddenly, Mother burst out in laughter. She lowered herself into a crouch, holding her head with one hand. I straightened, feeling an unexpected surge of hope.

“Oh, my darling, will you never change?”

A smile stole across my lips. “I doubt it.”

She laughed even harder. “I hope that’s the case.”

My mouth parted into a grin. I walked up to the door of the cottage where she stood, feeling as if I had escaped my doom.

Mother took another deep breath and stood up again. “Well, you can’t go down to the village looking like that. Come wash up.”

I immediately froze. “The village? Why are we going to the village?”

Mother’s expression became stiff, just as it always did whenever we talked about the village. “You need new shoes, and I have some linen to trade.”

I shook my head. “I don’t need new shoes. My old ones are fine!”

She sighed. “Tiff, your shoes have so many holes that they won’t even stay on your feet. That’s not even taking into account that they are too small for you now.”

“I don’t need shoes,” I insisted. “My feet are just fine for getting around. Excellent tiernan endurance and such!”

Mother smiled faintly. “Winter is on its way, little one. You cannot go around without shoes in the snow.”

“I don’t mind!”

“Well, I do,” she quipped. “Now go get washed. We’re leaving soon.”

I gave her my most serious scowl, making sure that she got a good look at it. I stripped off my dress right there by the door, leaving it in a muddy pile. Then I marched over to the water basin, which was full of rainwater, and drew a bucket for washing.

I splashed the water over myself carelessly, taking off only the top layer of dirt. I wouldn’t give my mother the satisfaction of seeing me make an effort for those stupid villagers. It’s not like any of them were terribly clean either.

Mother came over with a towel and a comb, trying to tame my unruly hair, but I pushed her hands away.

She sighed again. “Fine.”

I walked back to the cottage, not bothering to dry myself before stepping inside. I pulled out my other set of clothes from under the bed we shared. All of my clothes were made of linen since that was something Mother could make with the bounty of the forest, but this was a shirt and trousers instead of a dress.

It didn’t matter to me what I wore, but Mother insisted that it was good to have different types of clothing for different situations. In my case, trousers for working and dresses for playing.

Well, going down to the village certainly wasn’t play, so I supposed I was dressed appropriately.

“Let’s go,” I said cheerfully, giving her a cheeky smile.

Mother had put my muddy dress in a bucket of water to soak, then re-braided her hair to look tidier. She had tied the bundle of linen to her back, and a pouch with food and water rested on her hip. She glanced up when I called to her, looking over my appearance with pursed lips.

“You wild thing,” she said reproachfully, but with eyes full of love.

She took my hand, walking down the rugged path that led out of the forest. We didn’t walk this path often, but I knew it all the same. It was lined with wildflowers, moss, and piles of autumn leaves. It smelled so alive! I couldn’t help but start to sing.

 

Little butterflies, swift on the breeze

Flutter and fly away

Dragonflies darting through the trees

Flutter and fly away

 

Graceful birds swooping down

Flutter and fly away

Tree leaves falling to the ground

Flutter and fly away

 

Summer sun will stay for today

Flutter and fly away

Rain or wind, come what may

Flutter and fly away

 

Mother joined me in the song, chasing away all of our previous annoyance. By the time we finished the simple tune, both of us were smiling broadly. We gazed at the dappled light of the afternoon filtering down through the trees.

“Are we going to gather chestnuts tomorrow?” I asked, skipping down the path to the rhythm of the song.

She hurried to keep up with me, but didn’t skip as well. “No, not tomorrow. Perhaps the day after.”

I didn’t question her. She always knew the best times to do things in the woods. I knew that she’d teach me someday, but I wasn’t in a hurry to learn.

We topped a small ridge, bringing the village into view. Our cottage was only about half a league from the southern border of the village. It was close, but the thick shelter of the trees gave us the feeling of isolation.

The village was situated in a snug little valley, surrounded by tall hills. The forest extended south for many leagues, but all of the land north of the village was dedicated to farming. It was a prosperous area, watched over by the local feudal lord from his enormous castle on the top of the eastern hill. There were two other valleys just past the hills, making up the remainder of the fiefdom.

The politics and economic cooperation were, of course, much more complicated than that. But I didn’t care about any of that at this time of my life. All I knew was the difference between the happiness of our little hut and the displeasure of venturing away from it.

I could feel the animosity long before we entered the village proper. Children whispered and pointed, men paused from their tasks to “keep an eye” on us. Women appeared at their doors, making sure we didn’t get too close to any of the youth.

The closer we got to the village square, the more open the hostility. Whispers turned to murmurs, and watching turned to looming.

“Hey!”

Mother's hand tightened over mine. She turned slowly, careful to keep her face calm. The man approaching us looked over-baked from years of working in the sun. He had a thick beard that made him look more like an animal than a man. He gripped the long handle of a hoe in his hand, waving it in our direction.

“May I help you, sir?” she asked politely.

I noted she was using her village voice. She always sounded so educated and refined when she used that voice.

“Aren’t you Westerly’s girl?”

My grandfather didn’t like being associated with us, so he had ordered Mother to deny the relationship.

She shook her head. “No, sir.”

Everyone knew it was a lie. After all, Mother had grown up in this village. However, there was always someone who insisted on pressing the matter.

“What was the name, again?” The man mused, staring at us as if we were vermin. “Something awful pretentious, it was.”

The man was joined by another villager. Based on the state of his overalls, I guessed that he had just come from the field. He had a tidy mustache and wore a straw hat to shield him from the bright sunshine.

“Evangeline,” supplied the second man. “Evangeline Westerly.”

The first man barked a laugh. “That’s it! What a name. Westerly always did fancy himself above the rest of us.”

Mother quietly cleared her throat. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. That is not my name.”

“Of course not,” said the second man, his eyes gleaming. “That’s no name for a Jingler freeskirt.”

The first man roared with laughter.

Even though I was young, I knew what their words implied. The Jinglers were traveling performers, often dressing up in strange costumes and colorful makeup. They would often paint their skin blue or purple or green. Or yellow, like me.

I also was well aware of what he meant by calling my mother a freeskirt.

I balled the hand that wasn’t being held by my mother. I clenched my jaw tight, grinding my teeth together.

A third man walked forward to join in the fun. He was wearing a cooper’s apron. “How about Mistress Sparkle? That’s a good Jingler name!”

The other two slapped the man on the shoulder, congratulating him on his wit. I rolled my eyes, earning a warning glance from Mother.

“Please excuse us, good sirs,” she said firmly. “We must be getting on our way.”

The first man held up the hoe handle, blocking our path. “And where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

She didn’t reply, but turned to try and get around the man’s other side. The second man stepped in front of her, looming over her with a menacing smile.

“Please let us by,” Mother said, her voice almost a whisper.

The third man reached out to grip her shoulder sleeve, twisting it tight in his hand. “Why should we?” he spat.

A jolt of fear shot through my body. Normally, they would let us pass after a few insults. Normally, things wouldn’t have escalated this quickly. What was going on?

There were even a few women standing off to the side that looked uncomfortable with the situation.

An older man stepped forward. I recognized him as the village cobbler, Master Heele. “Alright, you lot. That’s enough. Let them by.”

The three men turned on him in a flash. “Why?” snarled the first man. “You siding with Westerly?”

Master Heele lifted his hands in a soothing gesture. “I’m not siding with anyone. I just don’t like to see trouble. The lord’s guards might be sent down if there’s too much fuss.”

That was enough to make the second and third man back down. However, the first man showed his teeth and raised his stick. “I’m not scared of those bootlickers,” he declared. “And I think it’s high time we got rid of the trash around here!”

Mother pulled me into her arms, and I could feel her trembling. I had never seen her so scared before. My eyes widened as I stared at the scene unfolding. My breath felt erratic, and my heart thumped so loud that I was sure everyone could hear it.

I fixed my gaze on the hoe handle in the man’s hand. The muscles in his arm were taut, bulging from years of hard labor. I was certain that he could kill us with nothing but that stick.

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry.

“Mama,” I whispered, feeling my eyes fill with tears.

She gripped my shoulders, pulling my face to hide in her bosom. I could tell that she was trying to speak, but her words didn’t reach my ears.

I heard a sharp cracking sound, followed by a shriek of pain.