Hours had passed, yet there was still a long road ahead of them. Velmorea was a long journey away from Dintletown. Not only was it far in distance, it was also ahead in civilization and way of living. It was a place where only the nobles and those at the top of the food chain got to live. If Dintletown was a small village, Velmorea was a big city that had a hundred Dintletowns in it.
Inside the carriage, Ezekiel was reading a book, one leg crossed over the other. He seemed undisturbed and focused on his book, but he was more focused on the sobs from the girl he had tied to his carriage. His eyes read the words, but his ears picked up the sounds of her crying, however low they were.
He finally closed the book, turning back to look at the girl from the small window in his carriage. Her head was hanging and swaying as the carriage moved, and her feet dragged on the dusty road. He didn't even need to look much to see that her sandals had been reduced to nothing, and her torn dress was covered in dirt.
"Weakling," he muttered, a rather fond smile appearing on his lips. Suddenly, the carriage stopped, and Meredith, unaware, kept walking and bumped her head painfully against the wood. He heard her groan, and his smile only broadened. There was a knock on the window by his side, and he pushed it open to reveal one of his coachmen.
"Why have we stopped, Dimitri?"
"We are being followed," said Dimitri. "Thieves, I think."
Ezekiel nodded. "Take care of it," he said simply before closing the window and resuming his little hobby of watching Meredith. From the corner of his eyes, he could see figures moving, and he could hear men screaming and groaning, but he didn't care. He was only interested in watching as strength visibly drained out of Meredith until she finally fainted.
"She lasted longer than I expected," he mused.
He climbed out of the carriage and went to her. With a pocket knife that was hidden in his pocket, he cut the ropes in one swift motion and let her small, weak body fall into his own.
"You're not a weakling after all," he chuckled, looking down at her small, beautiful face.
Meredith…
He had seen her on the stage, on display for the monsters who wanted to buy her. Unknown to them, she belonged to him already, and Ezekiel wasn't very fond of sharing his things. Many would think that he had foolishly wasted his gold for a slave, but that wasn't the case—he had given his gold for Meredith.
"How long has it been since I saw this face?" he wondered. There were a few changes, but he was sure. He had found her. He had found his own.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned around to find Dimitri, who was now covered in an alarming amount of blood.
"They were no thieves," said the coachman, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Those pesky witches. We lost Leo to them."
Leo was his fellow coachman, and the poor guy had lost his life to those witches.
If Ezekiel was surprised, it went unnoticed. In fact, he seemed to have expected it. He studied the man, and upon reaching the conclusion that Dimitri could still man the carriage, he gathered the unconscious Meredith in his arms and entered the carriage. Dimitri went back to his post, and immediately they resumed their journey.
While Meredith slept, she dreamt of her parents. She was taken back to the time when she was still a little six-year-old, running around with several girls her age in Dintletown. Suddenly, she heard her mother's voice calling out to her, and little Meredith cheerily ran up to her mother.
She was met with the warm and ever-smiling face of her mother. The woman squatted to her eye level and pulled the little girl into a warm hug.
"Were you playing, Meredith?"
The little girl nodded, her face flushed and smiley, her eyes glistening with delight. She was eager to return to the other girls to keep running around, but her mother had called her.
The smile on her mother's face fell, and as it did, Meredith noticed it and her happy face turned worried.
"What happened, Mother?" came her small, worried voice. "Do you not like me playing? I will return at once!"
"No, Meredith. You're a child—you should play," said the woman as she patted the child's head. "There is a guest at home with your father. He wants to meet you."
Confused, as she had no idea who the visitor was or what he could possibly want with her, Meredith still took her mother's hand as the woman led her back to their small house, which in her innocent eyes looked like a mansion.
They entered to find her father seated in the living area with another man whom Meredith had never seen. He was drinking tea, and it seemed like he had been waiting for them.
"Meredith, this is Mr. Willinks," came her father's gruff voice. He was also drinking tea, but it seemed he had already emptied his cup. "You will be working with him from now on. Say hello."
Meredith looked up at her mother, unable to conceal her confusion. Again, she was smiled at, as though that would answer all the questions in her head about who Mr. Willinks was and why she would be working with him.
"Come here, child," the man named Mr. Willinks called, and as her mother released her hand, Meredith approached him. He was an old man, grey of hair with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and as he smiled at her, those wrinkles became more prominent.
The man took her small hands and examined them before nodding in satisfaction.
"She would be able to work in the vineyards. She would pick grapes and berries," said Mr. Willinks after his careful assessment.
"How much will she earn?" her father asked without a hint of hesitation on his face.
"Depends on how many grapes she can pick every day. A full crate costs three coppers. Ten crates, and she will earn a silver."
Meredith watched both men talk without understanding what they were saying. She looked back at her mother, who was still standing by the door, and once again was greeted by the woman's smile. She relaxed.
A short talk later, Mr. Willinks left. With her father and mother still in the living area, Meredith wanted to ask questions, but she didn't even know what question to ask.
"You will start working tomorrow," her father began. "You heard Mr. Willinks. Ten crates for one silver. You will come back home with a silver tomorrow." He stood up and left, leaving no room for negotiation.
Meredith was left with her mother. She looked at the woman, waiting for her to explain in a way a child could easily understand. Her mother did not disappoint.
"You will be going out to the vineyard tomorrow, and you will help old Mr. Willinks pick grapes, and in return, he will give you some coins."
Meredith nodded in understanding.
Back then, she didn't know what it meant to be a labourer. She was just a girl called away from the field where she played to a vineyard where she would work. She didn't have time to think about it, and even if she had, what could her small mind have done—especially with her father already making it clear that she had no say in it?
"Okay, Mother," she said, and her mother hugged her.
She remembered her mother smiling, but now, in this dream, she could see her mother's face clearly. It wasn't the warm smile she was used to.
It was a sinister smile.
The smile of a hunter who had a deer in his trap.