Author's Note: 

Thank you for reading this far! If you would like to know what the world looks like-- there is a map of the surroundings! I look forward to your feedback!

The frantic raven in Marjorie's grasp fought against the palms of her tight hands. Twine pinned its inky wings against its dark, slender body, forcing the little beast to remain in her grasp. Its black beak pecked impatiently at its feathers, and then the pale skin of the young woman's wrist, until it dug into the freckled tops of her knuckles.

"Ow," Marjorie whispered. Beady eyes stared up at her with no acknowledgment to her pain. She huffed. This is not how she planned to spend her morning, pecked to death by a feathered rat. "Stop it, you damn bird."

Even as she said it, empathy swelled in her chest for the poor thing. If Marjorie were in the same position, stuck inside a stranger's grasp, she would twist and fight against her captor, too.

She blamed her frustrations on the heavy stone turning in her stomach. Like every Eve, the day was bleak. Last year, she spent the day watching from her bedroom window, wondering who would be dead by the end of tomorrow. Today had no room for morbid curiosity like years before. 

The unwavering sun beat down on Marjorie's back. A nice day was seldom seen in Core. The villagers in line smiled with their pockets of coins and bartering goods. They took the weather as a sign of luck. 

Marjorie refused to give up her bad mood.

She stood impatiently in her worn leather boots. Their once-hard soles were now soft and cracking from the years she used them. She was pretty for a village girl, with a heart-shaped face and a thin, long nose. Her eyes were a flat cobalt, like half of all the villagers, and no matter what angle one watched her from, orange freckles could be seen. On top of her head grew a wild heap of fire-colored curls that reached her shoulder blades. 

"Two silver, please," the short, old woman requested from behind the wooden countertop. She reached out her wrinkled hand, palms up and waiting for payment. She wore gaudy jewelry imported from Beyond on every single thin finger. Her hair was gray from age, but she offered a tender smile. Between her lips, Marjorie could see empty space where missing teeth once existed. Layers of bright clothing hung from her scraggy shoulders like fabric sticking to a tree branch.

"Of course, Blanchette," Marjorie answered. She shoved a free hand into the dark purple fabric of her dress. She dropped two silvers, the last of what she earned in the Garden, into Blanchette's tan palm.

"Thank you, dearie," the merchant said. She pocketed the money into the main hidden compartments of her clothing. Her eyes, once a dark brown, now a foggy blue from cataracts, stared into the general direction of where Marjorie stood. "You know, killing a raven always brings good luck," she whispered.

The old woman reached a finger covered in brown age-spots to the beak of the furious little thing. With gentle strokes and low shushing, its black beady eyes closed, overtaken by calmness. Blanchette's expression softened at the response.

"Why is that?" Marjorie whispered in awe. As the raven continued to relax, her grasp loosened around its body.

Marjorie needed luck.

It was hard to imagine that her last two silver coins and a sacrificed raven could bring her enough luck to survive tomorrow night.

"They are messengers of Mother, unfortunately, they are weighed down by the heft of their wings," Blanchette's nose wrinkled up at her words. She curled a finger around the bird's torso, softly humming a song to ease its raised feathers. "Killing the little beast means you set its soul free. In return for freedom, it flies home to Mother. As her thanks, she shows a great mercy to its liberator." The old woman pulled her touch away.

"Oh, thank you, Blanchette." Marjorie's fingers tightened around the slender, inky body and tucked the bird flush to her chest. "Thank you, thank you," she breathed out and looked up into the clear sky.

Blanchette turned to her remaining animals caged and tied down behind her booth. All of them wild but tamed by the thick braids of worn rope secured to iron stakes. They squealed and clucked and roared as surrounding villagers prodded at their dark pelts and bright feathers.

The villagers' hungry eyes followed the captured animals, all desperate to spend their coins and wash away their sins by the blood of a sacrifice.

"Good Eve to you, darling," Blanchette said. "I pray to Mother for you."

"I pray to Mother for you," Marjorie returned the words.

Blanchette ducked down, disappearing from her line of sight until she reappeared with a delicate cage made of iron. "For you, to keep the beastie safe, at least until you offer him."

Marjorie bowed in thanks to the merchant. Before this morning, Marjorie never imagined herself standing before Blanchette, clutching her sacrifice to her chest like the bird served as a direct path to Mother above. Marjorie understood why families traded in all of their savings for animals to slaughter.

Everyone wanted to be forgiven of something.

She prayed Mother kept Marjorie's sins to Herself.

***

As the day wore on, the village grew silent. No children lingered outside their home. Dolls fashioned from straw and tools made of dried mud lay abandoned on porch steps. Women drew their shutters, keeping in the unexpected heat of the day. Men stayed inside alongside their families, abandoning a night of drinking mead at the tavern to prepare for the Eve festival.

The cobblestone paths of Core were abandoned. An overcast of worry weighed down the village.

Marjorie sat beneath a dying, Scrub Oak tree. Its trunk had turned a cool gray and its branches were brittle. A strong gust of wind could send it down. Beneath where she sat, her red cloak separated her clean skirt from the ground. She liked sitting at Oak Point, which was a twenty-minute hike from the village.

Here, she could see all of Woodsman Landing—where the men worked cutting trees. Beyond the flat, barren lands of abandoned trunks lay Mirkwood.

After she left Blanchette, Marjorie watched the bird flutter in the silver cage, searching for a freedom that would never come. Eventually, Marjorie hauled it up to Oak Point. As a way to relieve the little beast of its fidgeting, she secured a makeshift line and collar around its slender body.

Like that, tied down but still curious to explore, the bird discovered its surrounding world. Hours passed with the raven picking at useless twigs and pecking at the shiny buttons of Marjorie's dress bodice.

She wondered what the creature must do in the wild, when it's all alone and free enough to fly.

What did it see? What secrets must it know?

"Where did you come from, beastie?" she whispered. "Is there a nest left to fend for itself? Did I take you away when your family needed you most?"

As expected, the raven did nothing in reply. Instead, its black eyes remained steady on the grasshopper it spent the last minute harassing. Another moment passed; the grasshopper was gobbled whole.

"I thought I would find you here," a deep, familiar voice spoke from behind Marjorie. Before she could turn and greet him with a wave, he slid into her sight. Petyr was a handsome young man. His bright blond hair fell like a crown around his handsome face. His golden locks were rare to see to in Core. Most villagers were dark-haired, some were ginger, like her. But none resembled Petyr and all his fairness.

He offered her a lopsided grin. It was kind, always kind, like him. He stood tall, above six feet under the tree's shade. His left hand rose above his head and rested on the rough surface of the trunk. Like that, he resembled a part of the Oak— pale, long and willowy. His lean torso was clothed in a blood-splattered linen shirt. Blood splatter from an afternoon spent slaying animals in the name of his family.

"Is that your raven, Marjorie?" Petyr asked.

She nodded. Her childhood friend sat beside her. His long limbs fumbled over one another until he finally settled down, cross-legged. His fingers grabbed a stick. The dirt in front of him divided with thick, wavy lines from where he pressed the stick's tip.

"Blanchette said you have the only raven in town," he whispered.

"I do," she confirmed. "It's a funny little thing."

Petyr reached a hand to where the beast perched on a low brank. The bird took a hop back, scared of his outstretched fingers. He smiled at the creature's nervous nature. 

"Don't frighten her," Marjorie said.

"Tell me you did not name it." Petyr rolled his dark eyes.

"I did not," she admitted, "at least, not yet."

The raven jumped down from its place on the branch to her lap. There, the bird settled on Marjorie's thighs, clueless she was its captor.

"Marjorie," Petyr hissed.

She ignored his abrasive tone. She wondered what her raven must think of the world around it—did the creature notice the rich color of her red cape or the thumping, nervous fingers of Petyr?

"Do you think she sees color?" Marjorie whispered.

"I think it will see nothing by moonrise," Petyr scolded. The harshness of his words would have wounded others, but Marjorie knew anger came from a place of good intention.

Throughout his entire life, he sacrificed everything for Eve. Each short summer and long winter, he worked in Woodsman's Landing, leveling entire acreages of trees. What little he earned went to purchase four sheep from Blanchette—one to cover the sins of his mother, his father, his grandfather and finally, him.

For Petyr, sacrificing was nothing more than a duty. It was a mere afterthought, a tangible prayer and a crimson pool of inane forgiveness.

"I don't think killing her would stop the Wolf," Marjorie admitted. "If the beast decides to take me tonight, no amount of innocent blood will protect me."

"Stop it," Petyr growled out. "You sound like the Fewfolk."

It wasn't meant as a compliment. Fewfolk were ditsy, dumb strays to the people of Core. They were men and women who ran from the safety of the village to the thrill of the forest. People who turned away from the gospel of Mother in exchange for a life lived in solitude, miles from Core and the devote.

People like Marjorie's grandmother, Sicily.

"Even if I sacrifice her, what will that do?" Marjorie placed her fingers on the bird's head and gently petted the downy tuft of fur between her beady eyes, like Blanchette did before. "We all fear the Wolf, we all dread this Eve, and we all sacrifice. My fear will never change, even if I kill my raven."

Marjorie hated fate and how the villagers clung to it. It was something meant to be set in stone yet digging a blade into the throat of an animal washed every sin clean. She couldn't imagine her curious raven dead, blood permeating all her feathers.

"Marjorie, you are speaking as though the Wolf will take you tonight," Petyr stammered.

"If he does, I deserve it," she sneered. She drew her hands around the bird and brought it flush against her chest. The creature pecked at a loose thread from her shoulder hem.

She was warm against Marjorie—alive, breathing and the opposite of heavy. When things died, they turned to dead weight. But in her hands, the bird was buoyant with life.

"We can't change fate," Marjorie whispered. "No matter what we do, what we are destined for is coming."

"Careful what you say," Petyr hissed. His hand clapped over Marjorie's mouth. "Mother listens." He stared into the black eyes of the raven, as if he feared the tiny little beast.

She ripped away from his palm and stood. The bird followed, confused at the abrupt motion. Anger riddled her movements while she pushed her raven into her silver cage.

"Please, wait," Petyr rushed out. He rose from his spot beneath the Oak. "I apologize, my reaction was rash."

Marjorie rolled her eyes at his words. "Every year, this village spills blood. Every year, someone is taken."

"And what if it is you, Marjorie?" Petyr pried. "A soft heart still bleeds in the Wolf's mouth."

"Then let it bleed." Marjorie turned on her heels and tightened her grasp around the top of the birdcage. Inside, her raven cawed into the direction of Petyr. Together, they left him alone on Oak Point.

AN: 

Thank you so much for reading! Please like and comment! <3 

Follow me on instagram @ authorjunevalentine