“Mr. Crow, are you following me?” I asked with amusement. It blinked an eye at me but remained quiet.
As long as it only watched, I didn’t mind its presence. I didn’t, however, want it driving me back to the estate. After tugging on the last boot and tying the lacing, I pulled the smallest fish from my line and set it on the ground.
“Here you go.”
I stood and casually walked away. When I heard a rapid flap of wings, I casually looked over my shoulder and watched the crow land and feast on the fish. Smiling, I journeyed home, lengthening my strides so the fish didn’t turn bad before I got there.
Bryn didn’t look too pleased when I presented her with a dozen fillets.
“I hope I marry soon,” she muttered. “I won’t tolerate another three weeks of fish.”
Realization about what had actually happened to my old fishing pole hit me, and I took care to hide the current pole well before returning to clean up the fish remains. It was smelly business, but the garden did well when I buried the remains.
Washing up outside with a harsh lye soap to rid myself of the smell, I wasn’t surprised to hear the flap of wings and a caw nearby. The crow sat perched on the shed roof.
“Sorry,” I said, watching the creature while I dried my hands. “I buried the remains of the others in the garden.”
“I need you to buy some flour,” Bryn called from inside.
I made a face. I had avoided the baker since he’d stopped by to speak with Father. Why would I march right into his store?
“Please ask Blye.”
“I can’t go!” Blye cried from the open window of our bedroom. “I’m working on the dress to show the seamstress in the Water, and Father’s asked me to take in a shirt he somehow acquired.”
It pleased me to know he didn’t tell Blye the shirt came from me or, rather, the estate through me. She would insist I go back and try to procure more clothes. But I didn’t like that she refused to fetch the flour.
“Bryn, can’t you go?”
“I’d rather not face...”
I sighed. Her need to avoid Tennen was due to wounded pride over her own stupidity. My reason to avoid the baker was self-preservation. Still, I knew I’d go.
“Fine. I’ll need to change.” I wouldn’t walk into the village wearing a threadbare shirt that easily displayed the outline of my bindings.
“Just hurry,” Bryn said impatiently. Holding in the urge to make a face at her, I marched to our room, where Blye sat on the bed concentrating on her stitching, and quickly changed into the dress.
When I went to the kitchen to ask Bryn for the coin I needed for the flour, she handed me peas. I wanted to scream. Instead, I stomped my way into the village, marched through the front door of the bakery and asked to speak with Mrs. Medunge. Of course, the baker’s sister went to fetch him instead.
“Benella,” he said when he walked through the door from the back. “So lovely today. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to trade these peas for flour,” I spoke woodenly, setting the cloth wrapped bundle on the counter. It was the same cloth they’d loaned for the flour the first time.
“I’m sorry, my dear—”
I would never be his dear.
“—but I can’t trade. It’s coin only. If others heard I accepted produce for flour, no one would want to pay me coin again, and I’d be overrun with produce.”
“I understand.” I scooped up the peas with two hands and left the cloth on the counter. “The cloth is yours. Good day.” I turned to leave.
“Wait. I hate seeing you leave upset. Come in back, and we’ll talk.”
I kept walking, and he called after me again. Next, I went to the butcher and asked if he would trade a copper for the peas. He apologized and explained that he’d taken trade in payment for the last several days and had no coin, affirmation that the baker’s assessment of trade had a grain of truth. When I stepped out, the baker stood in the door and silently waved me back across the street; but I had another option left to me. Cutting diagonally across the road, I used the toe of my boot to knock at the candle maker’s door.
The candle maker opened the door for me after several long minutes, during which I endured the baker’s constant stare.
“Benella, come in,” he said with a small smile. “What do you have there?”
“Peapods. Would you be willing to trade? I need a copper to buy flour.”
“Ah.” He nodded in understanding, holding out his hands. My shoulders sagged in relief.
“What happened to the blunt silver?”
Groaning before I stopped myself, I admitted, “I gave it to someone who needed it more.”