Mama always told her she had a sweet smile, but when she smiled, mama didn't look.

Arietta watched her mother disappear through the door, heard her footfalls fade away. A moment later the sounds of hammering drifted up from the shop.

She slouched in her seat, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders swallowing her up to her neck. Hot tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed the sobs climbing up her throat. She couldn't remember the last time mama had looked at her, or spoken to her.

All her mother did was work—hew wood into pretty boxes and form glass into elaborate vials and jars. She went to the shop before dawn broke, only coming up when it was time for bed. She wouldn't even speak to papa.

It broke Arietta's heart every time mama walked by her like she didn't exist, expression blank as a wall. What did I do wrong? she wondered. What happened to the days when mama would read to until she fell asleep and comfort her when she had bad dreams?

The world was dark and scary when she closed her eyes, and Many nights she went to bed feeling like the world was fading from around her, only to wake up to it, still there. But with no one to comfort her, it felt as though her fears were mounting.

Arietta's life only consisted of two stages, before being sick and after being sick. She wanted to go back to when she could run around and play with everyone else. When she would have sleepovers with Tallis and Lyra, and they'd stay up all night reading Lyra's book by the light of one candle.

She hated being sick; she hated the pain and the fatigue. She hated the way everyone looked at her, hated when they asked how she was feeling. And she smiled and told them she was fine because it made them look less sad.

"Arietta." Papa's voice cut into her thoughts. He walked in from the kitchen with a steaming bowl in one hand and a stained apron in the other. His brow was etched with worry as he looked down at her. "Is something the matter? Are you in pain?"

She shook her head and wiped the moisture from her face. "No, papa I'm fine."

The worry didn't fade from his face as he knelt in front of her. "Here. Try to eat just a little," he said, blowing on the bowl of broth to cool it. "You'll need your strength. Your friends will be here soon."

Arietta took the small bowl, and its warmth seeped through her gloves into her hands. But the smell of herbs and meat wafting from the gold-brown liquid made her stomach churn. She frowned at the gaunt face reflected in the broth as she brought the bowl to her lips and tipped it back, swallowing as much as she could. It ignited a fire in her tummy that made her want to gag.

Papa rubbed her back and whispered soothing words as she curled up and willed the broth to stay down. Sweat broke out on her brow and salty liquid pooled into her mouth. All she could do was swallow over and over until her stomach finally settled. She sat up proper and wrapped the blanket around her tight to combat the shivers racking her body.

"There's my poppet." Papa gave her shoulder a small squeeze and took the bowl back into the kitchen.

Arietta closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch's soft cushions. Fatigue made her bones weak and heavy, and her head lulled to one side as she drifted off.

No. She shook herself awake. Tallis and Lyra were coming to help her practice. Miss Octavia had chosen her to play alongside them at the winter ball. But she wasn't sure why. Everyone else played so much better than her.

Her flute case laid open on the coffee table with her sheet music spread out beside it. Miss Octavia had worked with her one-on-one in the few classes she'd attended, but sometimes she was too weak to carry a note or play a song for more than a few seconds. Even though Miss Octavia was nice and understanding, guilt still ate away at her. She was letting her music teacher down.

A knock sounded on the door, and papa rushed from the kitchen to answer. Arietta leaned over as much as she could manage and saw Lyra's father standing beyond the door. Lyra and Tallis came inside a moment later, flute cases in hand, ready to practice.

"Hi Arietta. We missed you in class today." Lyra placed her case on the table and opened it up. "Ready to practice?"

She nodded and reached for her own flute. She'd missed so much class, she'd fallen far behind everyone else. But she wanted to play with Tallis and Lyra at the Winter Ball. It felt nice to have something to look forward to, a goal. Instead of worrying about being sick all the time.

Tallis sat on the floor and spread out his copy of the sheet music before putting his flute together. "Did you practice it, Arietta?"

"I did. I know more than half the song now." Arietta picked up her flute and arranged the sheet music more neatly on the table. Then she put the flute to her lips and played.

"Wait," Lyra said. "The beginning is soft. Like this." She played the first three bars, the notes softer and smoother than Arietta's.

Tallis shrugged. "I can't get the beginning right either. How do you do it Lyra?"

"Just don't blow so hard and keep your air consistent. Like this." Lyra blew out a long, soft note. Holding it for four counts. "I'll help you both practice. We don't have much time left before the ball. And we can't disappoint Miss Octavia."

Arietta clutched her flute tight in her hands. She had to do this. She had to learn the song. "What did Miss Octavia teach you all today?"

"Nothing new," Tallis said, pushing his glasses up. "She said we're still not playing the song right. I don't understand though. We can play the whole thing."

Lyra sat on the couch next to Arietta. "She said we're not performing it right. Remember, there has to be emotion behind the song to perform it well."

"But I don't know how to do that, Lyra." He gestured wildly with his arms.

Arietta picked up the first page of sheet music, scanning the lines spaces and notes as she played the song in her head. "Didn't Miss Octavia say the song was about someone dying? So maybe we're supposed to feel sad when we play it."

Tallis folded his arms indignantly. "Who wants to feel sad?"

"You're such a baby," Lyra said.

"Am not!"

"No arguing you three," Papa called from the kitchen. He stepped out a moment later with a tray of snacks – toasted nuts, dried fruit and juice. "Arietta, can you come with me for a moment? Tallis, Lyra, help yourselves." He left the snack on a clear spot of the table.

Arietta climbed off the chair and followed him into her room, blanket trailing in her wake. The light green walls felt less and less welcoming every time she went in there. Probably because it was mama's idea to paint them that colour. The frilly white curtains were also her mother's idea, along with the bunny figurines that decorated the dresser and the plump throw pillows on the bed.

As papa shut the door, Arietta picked up her favourite stuffed bear and toyed with its button eye. She'd popped it off many times, but papa would always fix it for her.

He knelt in front of her and she frowned. He always did that when he had bad news for her. "Listen, I know you really want to play at the ball, but I just don't think you should."

Her heart fell and shattered like glass. The one thing she had to look forward to, and he was taking it away from her. She squeezed her bear tight to stop herself from crying. "But why?"

"I just think it will be too stressful for you." He rubbed her head, his grey eyes as sincere as always. "Please understand, poppet. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Tears pricked Arietta's eyes as the familiar burn of anger and disappointment settled in her chest. It crawled up her throat and made her words sting her tongue. "But I really want to play. Can I? Just this once, papa? Please? I'll never ask for anything else again."

"I'm sorry, but you've been doing so well lately, I don't want the extra stress to cause you to regress." With that, he gave her hands a gentle squeeze and left the room.

Arietta buried her face in her bear's chest as her tears broke free, spilling down her nose in hot rivers. Why? Why did it have to be me who got sick? Why can't I get better, stronger? All she wanted was to be normal again. To run and play like the other children. To not have to stay home and stare and the hearth all day and drink bitter medicine.

Lyra stepped inside the room, eyes widening at the sight of her friend. "Are you alright, Arietta?"

"No, I'm not alright." She sniffled and wiped at her tears. "Papa said I can't play at the ball. He said it would be too stressful for me. But I can do it, Lyra. I know I can."

Lyra sat down and put an arm around Arietta. "I know. But if your dad says you can't do it then you have to listen to him. But you can still learn the song. I'll help you."

Arietta shrugged her friend's arm off. Lyra was no better than papa. It's always: you can't do this and you can't do that. "It doesn't matter. I just want to be alone now." She turned away from her friend, fresh tears falling from her eyes.

The creak of the bed and click of the door signaled Lyra's departure, and Arietta was left in the room that reminded her of how unloved she was.

Nobody cared about what she wanted. Nobody cared about her. So what was the point of even being here? She should just go. Away from everyone and everything. That was it. She'd run away from everyone and everything to a place where no one would tell her she couldn't run or play.

Arietta swiped at her eyes and climbed from the bed. Her school satchel hung by the door, filled with scholarly things she barely used. She dumped everything from inside and stuffed her bear in before grabbing her warm cloak and boots. She needed nothing else, didn't care about anything else.

The only way to get out of the house without anyone trying to stop her was through her secret exit. There was a small section of the floor in her closet that could be lifted away. Beneath was a crawl space just big enough for her to fit through. It led to the back section of the flower shop. She'd found it on a stormy night in spring when she'd hid in there from the thunder and lightning.

Arietta pushed aside her frilly dresses and heavy coats before kicking away empty boxes. Sweat coated her brow and her chest heaved with heavy breaths. But that didn't stop her. She got on her hands and knees, feeling for the break in the wood.

Her fingers slipped in and she pulled with everything she had, chest burning from the exertion. The wood came up, and she pushed it away

Stale air drifted up from the hole, along with the smell of dust and rotting wood. The storage room of the shop lied below, filled from floor to ceiling with empty crates and boxes. Arietta took a moment to catch her breath before lowering herself onto a stack of crates.

Tiny dust clouds rose up around her shoes, but the stack held beneath her. She continued her descent to another, lower stack before finally jumping down to the floor. Her legs wobbled, and she leaned against the crates until her equilibrium returned.

Hammering drifted in from the next room, and Arietta imagined her mother in there, nailing wood together into pretty gift boxes. She remembered a time when she would sit in the corner of mama's workshop and watch her work the glass and wood. Mama always hummed while she worked, but not anymore. Now there was only the hammering.

Arietta pulled her cloak tighter around her and turned her back on the noise before heading out the back door. The dregs of sunlight in the west painted the snow with shades orange and yellow.

The forest beckoned to her. It looked scary, but it was the only place no one would follow her. She could be on her own and do what she wanted. Papa wouldn't be able to tell her no anymore.

But the netherborne. The thought put a dent in her resolve, making her hesitate for a moment. She didn't see any netherborne. And they never destroyed the forest, just the village.

Arietta started towards the trees. The snow swallowed her up to her shins, but she trudged through, holding her cloak tightly around herself. It wasn't long before her legs numbed up and shivers shook her.

Arietta knew when she left the safety of the barrier; it got colder. Her breath fogged in front of her face and she squeezed her eyes shut, expecting a netherborne to jump out and attack her. But no such thing happened.

She opened her eyes and stepped further into the forest. The yellow-orange light from the sun slanted through the trees in sharp angles. Arietta tipped her head up and soaked up the warmth. It wasn't bad out there.

Arietta kicked up a cloud of snow and it glimmered in the sunlight like icy diamonds. She laughed and kicked up another cloud twirling until she grew dizzy, her cloak billowing around her. Then she walked even further weaving around the trees. Far away from the village. Far away from papa's no's and mama's hammering.

The trees and her bear were the only friends she had. The only ones she needed. She sat on an old stump to catch her breath and watch the sunset turn into twilight. Her eyes fluttered close again, and she shook her head to keep herself from dozing.

"Arietta!" Her name echoed through the trees, the voice that spoke it a familiar one.

"Lyra?" She rose just as her friend came bounding towards her.

"Why did you come out here! It's dangerous." Lyra grabbed her arm. "Come, we need to get back to the village."

"No," Arietta pulled away. "I'm not going back. I'm staying here. Papa doesn't want me to play, mama doesn't want me to play. You don't even want me to play."

"I never said—"

"Yes, you did! You said I shouldn't play!" she yelled, hot tears stinging her eyes. She was used to papa telling her she couldn't do things. But not Lyra. "I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend. That's why I'm trying—"

"No, you're not!" Arietta spun on her heel and jogged off, but she didn't get far before her legs gave out. She fell into the snow, her vision doubling.

"Arietta." Lyra helped her to her feet, and the world spun into a dizzying blur of colours, save for one spot of black over Lyra's should. "Come on. Get on my back."

The shadow over Her friend's shoulder grew and sharpened, its due and limbs becoming more pronounced. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but words wouldn't form. Not a shadow.

A netherborne.