The night had turned colder than she'd expected. Sophia shuddered as she huddled on her side, her palms cradled between her knees to provide some semblance of warmth. Her breaths came out in fog as the last dredges of sleep melted away.
The Sun was rising, shining on her face, as she awakened slowly unlike her usual alarm-filled mornings, cold but more awake and refreshened than she had felt in a long time.
She let out a sigh of content.
This was a luxury that she had never even known she was missing. The birds starting to chirp, flying from their nests, the cold air, the morning sun, the open field...
...The faint crunch of footsteps...
Her eyes snapped open. She whirled around, just in time to see a ragged boy, maybe ten or so, give a yelp of surprise at the sudden movement and dart away...with her pouch of berries in his hand.
"Hey!"
She lurched up, her legs stumbling underneath her as she ran after him, barefoot.
"Stop!"
Her legs ached as she ran down the uneven dirt path, between the thatched huts that she had passed in the village, crossing puddles and hens.
"That's mine!" The young boy glanced back once, fear flashing in his brown eyes that had Sophia almost falter for a second, before he turned around and bolted faster.
She shook the moment away, and increased her pace...
...and slipped on a stone.
Her foot remained in the spot as her body followed the aborted movement, falling hard on the ground as the air left her lungs. Her knees flared in pain at the hit, her palms caked with mud as she grunted from her spot on the path.
"Ugh..."
She looked up, and as expected the boy was gone.
Sophia let out a sigh as she slowly pushed herself up, brushing her hands to get rid of the mud that had lodged between her fingers. Her lips pulled into a frown.
She didn't even want to think about hygiene, not here in this medieval town.
After getting as much mud off her hands and body as she could, she breathed in deeply.
A laugh escaped her at the absurdity.
Just yesterday, she had been happy and confident in herself, and the next morning had her food stolen by a child.
It was pretty strange.
"Well," She mused, "Lesson one: Never be too confident...or sleep in an open field."
Humming a familiar tune from her world, she turned towards the face of the alley.
She needed to find some work if she was to do something about the hunger pangs in her belly.
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By midmorning, the village was stirring awake. Smoke rose from the chimneys around her, as Sophia walked through the main street. The smell of barley bread and damp soil filled the air.
She spied the various shopkeers opening their stores, preparing their products, cleaning the space, lining the shelves. She could see the many businesses run by families where small children helped the parents, small hands washing vegetables and fruits.
It was joyful, the laughter that flowed, the bustling of the streets.
Her heart lurched, envy warring with the peace she was gathering from the surroundings.
She had approached the baker already- David. He had told her with regret in his eyes that his nephew was back to work- just as a young man had emerged from the back of the stall- and he would not be needing her help today.
She understood though, and smiled to show it was alright even as her stomach reminder her of the fact that she had only eaten once yesterday.
She knew she had to move on, though.
So she toured the other stalls- asked for some work around the market, before being directed towards the fields.
Sophia wandered towards the edge of the fields, where a woman with rolled-up sleeves and a straight rough skirt was driving a wooden hoe into the earth. Behind her, she could see a few ther people scattered in the fieds.
The woman noticed her. Her voice and hands were rough with the labour.
"You lost, girl?"
"No." Sophia said, hesitantly brushing the last remaining mud from her hands onto her dress, "Just looking for work."
The woman stopped. Planting the hoe into the earn, she leaned her weight against it as she pinned Sophia with a long, assessing look.
"You ever sown a crop before?"
"No," She fidgeted,"But I learn fast."
The woman chuckled.
"Fast, eh? We'll see about that." She turned awat from her, continuing with her work.
She didn't speak for a few beats. Sophia was about to move away when, "Come on, girl. The spring barley doesn't plant itself."
---------------------------
It was early spring, the time for barley sowing. One of the hardiest grains that could ever grow in lean soil.
The woman who introduced herself as Mara showed Sophia how to prepare the seedbed. Together, they broke the top crust of the soil with wooden rakes, making shallow furrows about an inch deep. The air smelled rich, wet, alive.
"Barley needs room to breathe," Mara explained. "Too close, and the stalks fight for water. Too far, and weeds take over."
The work continued on- hard and unrelenting. By noon, when they stopped for a bowl of soup and bread, Sophia's back ached, her palms were blistered- but when she looked over the field, she felt something rare: satisfaction.
"So now we wait?" she asked, wiping sweat from her brow.
"We water, then wait," Mara replied. "Patience is what separates farmers from fools."
They poured buckets of water over the newly seeded soil. The glistening furrows reflected the sky like tiny mirrors.
Mara handed her a small pouch of grain at the end of the day- fair payment for her labor. Everyone else in the field was paid the same, she saw.
"You did well. Better than most first-timers."
"Can I trade you half," Sophia said, glancing toward a folded blanket on the fence. "For that?"
Mara hesitated, then smiled.
"Half a day's grain for a night's warmth. Deal."
-----------------------
Sophia sat on a crumbling wall overlooking the old district, nibling on the bread she saved from her lunch. It is half-shadow and half-starlight, and somewhere in it she will need to find shelter. She could not sleep in the open again, not without protection.
It is quiet here, save for the sound of crickets.
A horse's grooved breaks the silence.
She looks up as a stranger shows up, sitting up straighter as he slows down near her.
Sophia puts the leftover bread in her dress pocket, her eyes discreetly eyeing the wooden crate that she had used to hoist herself up. It was within her reach, away from the man.
She looked back at him. He wore a dark cloak and gloves, sitting regally on the horse. His face was half in shadow from the darkness and the cloak, the only distinctive feature she could see were his striking blue eyes.
"You're far from the fields." he says.
"And you're far from… wherever people like you belong," she answers carefully, a touch of humor softening her words.
A faint, surprised exhale escapes him- almost a laugh.
"I heard a stranger's been earning her keep in my fields," he says after a moment.
"Your fields?"
"All of them are mine."
Her brows lift.
"Then you should pay better, my lord. A blanket for half a day's work is robbery." She winced inwardly. Her mouth ran faster than her brain sometimes.
He studies her- not angered, not amused. Just curious.
The corner of his mouth twitches, barely visible in the dim light.
"You're bold. Keep your blanket, farm girl. You'll need it. The nights here don't forgive easily."
And with that, he turns his horse, the rhythm of his hooves fading into the distance- leaving her staring after him, unsure whether to be wary or intrigued.
The rain begins again, soft and cold. She looks up, whispers with a grin-
"Not bad for a second day, universe."
Taking the bread out, she jumps on the crate, trotting away to look for a place to sleep.