***
Kali
Every day, when she left the village, he followed her. She didn’t know his name. She knew little about him at all, but she felt she could trust him. There was no wickedness there, and she wished she could hold his palm in her hand and see a happy ending for him. He was honourable, taking it upon himself to protect her because his wife had gone out of her way to cause her harm. The women in the village had gossiped to her in loud whispers, telling her that Marusya had it in for her now. She wasn’t afraid, and she kept the delicious secret of her defender to herself.
Still, the women whispered mean, ruthless tales of Marusya’s weaknesses, and how she had always lived, friendless and strange, outside the village. She took care of the house while her mother lay in bed all day before she died. From what, nobody knew. The women were mean-spirited, but their comments went beyond simple dislike. The women were afraid of Marusya for some reason. Kali could hear it in the tremor of their voices when they spoke her name. They scorned her because they feared her.
“It’s such a waste of a handsome boy,” said a pretty young girl with corn-yellow ringlets and dreamy eyes.
“Boy? He’s a man at least a summer since,” said an older woman with a husky laugh. “I hear he has his eyes on you.”
Kali raised her eyes instantly, but the woman wasn’t speaking to her. In fact, half the time, they seemed to forget she was there at all. She had picked up a lot of information this way, plenty of secrets and gossip, and she really shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was by the lack of morals in the village. This particular village seemed different than others, darker in some way. She saw the shadows haunting the streets and knew the people were drawing them in somehow.
The blond girl sighed dramatically. “He danced with me once, before the old hag got her claws into him.”
“Claws are right,” another said. “Claws made of gold.” Her cue for more cackling laughter.
“But,” she added, “he came along and paid me double after she smashed my eggs on purpose. She was spitting mad, but he didn’t listen to her. He was brought up well by his mother. It’s a terrible pity what they had to do with him.”
Grave nods all around ended that conversation, and Kali swallowed a scream of frustration. She needed to hear the rest of the story and listened for more mentions of Marusya’s husband, but the women had already moved on to another topic. She hadn’t even picked up his name, as all of the men were referred to in their relation to the woman taking care of their homes: husband, brother, or son. The men had no real identities there.
Kali rushed through the rest of the mostly predictable readings in her hurry to return home. She knew he would stop accompanying her eventually, but every time he walked behind her, she caught at least one glimpse of him before he left. The entire day was worth that one look she allowed herself. The more she saw of him, the more she longed for him.
Other girls her age had talked in excited whispers about the boys they liked, at least before they were married, and she had witnessed her own sisters fawning over boys from afar often enough to recognise what was happening to her.
The important difference was that the other girls in her camp took a liking to available boys—to gypsy boys. She was falling for someone who was all wrong for a million reasons, which didn’t stop her wishing to speak to him or her dreaming about him. A tremble of excitement bubbled in her stomach from morning ’til night because of him, and she had never felt more vibrant. Life thrummed within her whenever she thought of him. She knew, deep down, that she was putting a complete stranger on a pedestal, but she felt good and the situation felt right.
Except it was wrong, in every sense of the word.