Chapter Eight; The Marketplace

As the two men left with Sebastian and his father, Mia went outside to where her parents' bodies were being burned, the strong stench of death and burnt human flesh lingering in the air. It was a good thing they lived so far out of town, or they would have had neighbors checking in, and wondering where the smell was coming from.

Although she only caught a glimpse of the boy through the slats in the closet door, Mia memorized the boy's facial structure and everything she could about him. She caught sight of the older gentlemen as well, his father and put that into her memory as well. She would remember their faces until the day she died, she thought.

----Time Skip; 5 years later-----

Five years had passed. Mia was now eight years old. She has been living on her own since her parents were murdered. She learned how through trial and error to tend to the animals and the fields. Learning as she went. Making a lot of mistakes in between, with the soil not being properly prepared, or getting the watering just right, to where the plants wouldn't drown, or dry out. Some days, she had gone hungry, with an empty stomach growling keeping her awake. Some days she would get kicked by the goats trying to collect milk from them, or wrestle a chicken while trying to get the eggs.

Life was nothing like it was before, when her parents were alive, doing most of the caretaking for her. She had to figure things out on her own, cook her own meals, put herself to bed, with no bedtime stories, no family night games, no idle chatter to pass the time after a long days' work. Mia had no idea how much work her parents put into keeping up their farm until now. She helped when she could, but she was three years old at the time, there was only so much she could do. She was a bit older now, a little bit stronger, but she struggled with doing things, especially not knowing how, or having someone to teach her.

Her vivid memories of the past kept her sane as she remembered her parents, and all the love they gave to her, but when she remembered the night of their deaths only nightmares came. She remembered the way the man had drained her mother dry of blood, and crushed her fathers chest down to a pulp. Mia still couldn't fathom why her parents died like they did. She knew nothing of the way the rest of the world worked outside of the farm they raised and their home. Was the rest of the village like them? She thought, referring to the man who had killed her parents. The thought alone left her terrified.

The few times she had ventured out to the village to buy supplies like flour, feed, and whatever else she needed to keep the animals and the house up, she wore a robe with a hood that covered half her face, terrified to run into the same people she had seen that night. No one else had noticed her presence except that boy she had made eye contact with. She spoke politely and quietly to the other villagers and people in the marketplace.

Only speaking when she had to. Her eyes cast downward the hood in place. She made the trip by herself using the horses her family had, carrying the goods in a small basket she had made by hand.

One day at the village market a young pre-teen boy noticed the hooded figure looking both ways before proceeding to talk to a man selling various goods. He watched the person for quite some time before realizing who it was, once he had gotten a good look at the person behind the hood. This had his interest because it looked to be the same 'little mouse' he had seen when he was just a boy, no bigger than her.

As he stood, one foot propped up on the stone wall of a nearby building. Casually reading a book he had brought with him from his extensive collection. A book he had read over twenty times or possibly more by now, he had lost count. He glanced up to watch the petite figure once more, noticing the skittish nature, the hesitant and troublesome 'little mouse'.

She wasn't being troublesome yet--but he knew one day she would be. Or that she was plotting to be, perhaps without knowing it yet herself. His father didn't know about the 'little mouse' and he planned to keep it that way.

This 'mouse' was his, and his alone. He may as well be the 'cat' in the situation, looking at his prey deciding the best way to go about catching and trapping his plaything or 'meal' as his father liked to call them. Though he still didn't have any urge to drink human blood, he thought about how this 'little mouse' would taste .

Sensing that someone was watching her, Mia quickly grabbed the goods from the salesperson and hastily made her way back to the horse so that she could make the journey home. Sebastian buried his face into his book so as not to be recognized by her. They had shared a look a few years back and he didn't know if she would remember him solely based on his facial features, as he had aged a few years since then.

Once Mia had secured her items to the horse she pulled the reins and headed back home without a second glance back at who was watching her. She took the long way home, to deter whoever it was from precisely following her and knowing where she lived, unaware that the person already knew where it was.