The Springborn

CALDER

C onfession: I spent the night in the woods just outside Miners Ridge instead of rejoining the other Springborn. A nest of leaves is a grand thing for a squirrel, but it’s less than an ideal bed for a person. Even if I had been warm, I would not have slept. That expression on Sabella’s face before she turned her back on me to return to her parents’ house—it was so devoid of feeling, so empty of hope… I cannot seem to keep it from floating before me like the hazy image of a ghost. I would rather remember her raging at me with flashing eyes and flushed cheeks than standing there sallow and surrendered to insensibility, but my mind does not let me choose.

Before the first light of morning stains the sky, I leave the horses tied to a tree and walk to Sabella’s house. I peer through the window of the sad, old kitchen. I watch Sabella sink onto the detestable stool in the corner. I watch that hateful man hack off her beautiful antlers and with every bit of my being, I want to pummel him into the earth with my fists.

When he goes upstairs, she gathers the antlers in her arms like they’re a hurt child. Her body is angled away from me, and I am thankful. I do not think I could bear to see the look of agony that surely defiles her face.

A dog barks in the distance. One rooster crows and inspires another. The miners will exit their houses soon. I cannot stay here or I will be seen.

I slump to the ground and bury my face in my hands. This is terrible. The hardest thing I have had to do in my life. For so many years, it’s been a rare day in which I did not see her. How will I survive it?

All I have left is a single thread of hope. It’s filthy and fraying, but I hold onto it like it can tow me out of this swamp of misery I’ve created. Life is long—at least if we’re lucky. Maybe someday, she’ll forgive me. Want me back, if miracles exist.

A door creaks open nearby and heavy boots tromp across a wooden porch. I stand and run for the cover of the woods.