Sleeping in the Stable

Chapter 1: The Unwelcome Arrival (Part 3)

The stable smelled of horses and straw and manure.

Lyra found an empty stall and collapsed into the hay, too exhausted to care about the sharp stalks poking into her skin. She curled into a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees, her body still trembling from the day's labor.

She was alone.

For the first time since waking up in this nightmare, she allowed herself to cry.

The tears came silently at first, then in great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body. She cried for her home, for her family, for the life she'd lost. She cried for the humiliation of walking naked through a strange village, for the casual cruelty of the people who had laughed at her, for the impossible mountain of challenges that lay ahead.

And she cried because she didn't know if she was strong enough to climb it.

When the tears finally subsided, she lay in the hay, staring up at the wooden rafters above her head. Through a gap in the roof, she could see stars---different stars than the ones she knew, arranged in unfamiliar constellations.

I'm so far from home, she thought. I don't even know if home exists anymore.

A sound made her freeze.

Footsteps. Soft, careful, approaching the stable.

Lyra scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. She pressed herself against the wall of the stall, trying to make herself small, trying to disappear.

The stable door creaked open.

A figure stepped inside, silhouetted against the moonlight.

"Hello?" a voice called out---a young voice, female, uncertain. "Are you in here? The naked girl?"

Lyra didn't answer. Her hands flew to cover herself, even though the darkness made the gesture pointless.

The figure stepped closer, and the moonlight revealed her face. She was young---maybe fifteen or sixteen---with dark hair and wide, curious eyes. She was carrying something in her arms. A bundle of fabric.

"I brought you something," the girl said softly. "It's not much. Just an old dress of mine. But it's better than nothing."

She held out the bundle.

Lyra stared at it, her throat tight. She wanted to snatch it, to wrap herself in it, to finally, finally cover her shame. But something held her back.

"Why?" she asked, her voice hoarse. "Why are you helping me?"

The girl shrugged, a small, shy gesture. "Because no one else would. And because..." She hesitated. "Because you looked like you needed it."

Lyra took the bundle with trembling hands. She unfolded it---a simple dress of rough brown wool, worn thin in places, patched at the elbows. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

The girl smiled. "I'm Mira. What's your name?"

"Lyra."

"Nice to meet you, Lyra." Mira glanced over her shoulder, toward the village. "You should leave in the morning. Before the sun rises. Some of the men have been talking. They're... not kind."

Lyra's blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"

Mira's smile faded. "Just... be careful. And don't trust anyone. Not until you know who they really are."

She turned and slipped out of the stable, leaving Lyra alone in the darkness, clutching the dress to her bare chest, her heart pounding with a new kind of fear.

She didn't sleep.

She pulled the dress over her head as soon as Mira was gone, and the feel of fabric against her skin was almost overwhelming. It was rough and scratchy and smelled faintly of woodsmoke, but it was clothes. It was cover. It was the first step toward reclaiming her dignity.

But it wasn't enough.

The dress was short---it barely reached her mid-thigh---and thin. It did nothing to hide the shape of her breasts beneath the fabric, or the curve of her hips, or the dark shadow between her legs. She might as well have been wearing a sack.

Still, it was something. She would take something over nothing.

As the first grey light of dawn began to seep through the stable walls, Lyra made her decision. She would leave this village. She would find a city, a larger settlement, somewhere she could disappear into the crowd. She would find work, earn money, and buy proper clothes. She would figure out where she was and how to get home.

And she would never, ever be caught naked again.

She stepped out of the stable, the dress fluttering around her thighs, and began to walk.

Behind her, in the shadows of the village, someone was watching.

And smiling.