Jasmin Linton (she/her) // Contributor
Rachel Lu (she/her) // Illustrator
Heat from the flames burned against her cheeks.
That was one of the only things Esme could seem to remember about the fire that tore down her village—her home.
The heat and the smell. It had been 3 days since she had left the carcass and ashes of her home with her wailing sister in tow, and she was still wading in the thick scent of smoke.
Amanda, her blubbering sister, hadn’t stopped crying since they had left. She sat on a rock across from Esme, tears streaking her pale, ashen face. She looked almost transparent against the darkening forest, like she wasn’t really there–just a shadow following Esme’s trail.
The sisters had been making their way through the dark woods that surrounded their village, trying to get to West Port—the next closest trading town. It was their only option now that their home had been destroyed. The flames had sprung up around them methodically, almost as if it was the result of something deliberate and planned. Since then, the journey had been nothing but trudging through mud, navigating an impossibly thick wood, and trying to ignore the growls of hungry animals. The addition of Amanda’s sobbing was trying on Esme’s patience.
“Do you think we’ll see anyone again? Mother? Father?” She whimpered, not taking her eyes off the ground. The sisters had been separated from the rest of their family in the chaos of the fire. Esme hadn’t noticed it was just the two of them amidst the mayhem. It was Amanda’s frantic screaming to go back to the house that finally startled her enough to move. Their only hope was that the family had the same idea to head for the bay. “What if we never will?” She pressed again. Esme couldn’t bear to think that far.
“We should keep moving.” She croaked, ignoring Amanda’s pleading tone. They ran out of water over an hour ago, and breathing in the chilled air as they walked burned her lungs and throat. She gnawed on her lip; in her state of dehydration, she couldn’t help thinking of all the crying Amanda had been doing. “It’s just over this last hill and then we can get more food and water.” She said, trying to focus her sister’s attention on other things, trying to motivate her to get up. Amanda, sensing Esme’s reluctance to speak further, just slowly nodded and stood. Esme followed.
“You’re buying me something sweet once we get down there” Amanda huffed, not bothering to look back.
Esme just sighed. She stood up, grabbed their bags—what was left of their lives—and went after her sister.
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The sky above them was gray, turning and pulsing as they made their way down the dock. The wooden planks under their feet were slick with heavy rain already and Amanda clung to Esme’s soaking sleeve like a child. It was getting hard to hold up both her and their stuff.
“I’m so cold.” Amanda sniffed against Esme’s coat. She could hear the chattering of teeth despite the loudness of the whipping wind.
“The ship is right here!” Esme snapped, feeling as cold and worn as Amanda looked and having the decency to not whine about it. Amanda said nothing just burrowed her head against Esme’s shoulder. She sighed, and dragged her sister the rest of the way up the dock—at least she wasn’t whining anymore.
The ship towered above them once they reached the ramp up to it. Three giant masses shot up from its high deck, holding up wide, white sails that tugged and pulled with the strong winds. The deck’s black paint looked inky slick with rain. It was already busy and bustling with sailors, all eager to clear the storm.
Esme wrestled a spot onboard without much trouble, only a single deckhand had objected, raving about the superstition of having a woman on board, “what bad luck she’ll bring us!” he yelled, looking up and down at her disheveled appearance. However, he was overruled by the glares from other shiphands grumbling about the delays with the storm. No one stopped them. Esme couldn’t help but sigh in relief. If anything, the sisters were rushing to leave the bay as soon as the anchor was up. She had all but helped heave it up on board herself. She was finally content when the bay was a small dot behind them.