Calista knelt in the garden, busy pulling weeds. Her waist-length silver hair kept out of her face, and out of the dirt, in twin plaits and a head kerchief. She didn’t bother with gloves, as she wanted to directly feel the roots of the plants she was pulling, so she could be sure she was getting all of them. Once she had the whole root ball in hand, she yanked with more aggression than necessary.
Gardening was one of the ways the young woman could safely vent her frustrations. And boy, did she have plenty of reasons to be frustrated.
Her hazel eyes narrowed into a scowl thinking about the chore that awaited her once she was done in the garden. It’s not that she minded cooking. In fact, it was a task she enjoyed a fair bit. It was just that she was expected to cook on top of also tending the garden, and sweeping the floors, and feeding the chickens, and her duties as herbalist.
She had two, perfectly fit and capable older sisters, who absolutely could lessen her workload, but they refused. Ulva spent most of the day outside the home, with her fiance, and when she came home, she whined and moaned about being too tired to do anything. Meanwhile, Orfilia also spent most of the day outside the home, trying to find an eligible mate to be her own fiance, and when she came home, she locked herself in her room and said she was far too depressed to do chores!
Calista aggressively ripped out a large stone and flung it over the fence into the woods. She sat back and wiped her wrist across her brow, and pressed the heel of her hand to her temple with a sigh. If the garden wasn’t visible from the street, she might’ve been tempted to dig using paws instead of fingers.
Maybe I should complain to Papa, she thought. But I hate to bother him when he and Bardoul are working so hard to pay off their shipping business’s debts. And I feel uncomfortable complaining to them when they help out so much when they’re home. It’s just when they’re not home that’s really a problem. I’m not even sure Papa would make Ulva and Orfilia do chores. He hates to see any of us unhappy, and making them do things they don’t want to do would see them acting like kicked puppies. It would likely just result in him picking up even more slack than he already does when he’s home, and I’d feel bad about that. Hard to believe they’re the older sisters! Calista thought uncharitably. She stood up and brushed her hands off on her skirt. With a sigh, she headed inside to start preparing supper.
She busied herself washing potatoes and carrots, and grumpily wondered if anyone was going to bring home some meat or if she would need to go slaughter a chicken in a little bit. She kind of wished they could just hire a maid. But they couldn’t risk hiring a human maid, and no lycan would be willing to serve another like that. Even the “wild” pack of lycans in the woods around the town didn’t serve their dominant members the way humans served the members of higher society.
The sound of the front door opening broke Calista out of her thoughts. She stood up and went to see who it was, wiping her damp hands on her apron. Her expression lit up upon seeing the tallest member of her family setting his stuff down by the door.
“Harou!” she exclaimed, rushing over to hug the youngest of her elder brothers.
“Oof! Are you trying to crush me, or just the uniform?” the young soldier teased.
“If neither you nor the uniform can survive a hug, you should just leave the military now! You won’t survive your first skirmish!” Calista teased back.
“Oy, Calista, your tongue is sharper than any sword!” Harou moaned dramatically, clutching his chest as if his heart hurt.
“Good, it’ll toughen you up,” she responded, pretending to be smug.
Harou chuckled and chucked her shoulder.
“You want to go out in the woods for more fighting lessons?”
Calista shook her head.
“Sorry, military dog, I can’t right now because I have to get supper ready. Goodness knows, if Ulva and Orfilia even come home in time for supper, they won’t lift a finger to help prepare it,” she said, unable to completely keep the bitterness from her tone. Harou gave her a sympathetic nod.
“Well, I’ll help. What did you have planned?” he asked.
“I was just washing some potatoes and carrots when you arrived. I suppose I’ll go butcher a chicken. Since you’re home, I suppose I’ll do a stew, so we can leave it to simmer and still have a bit of time for practice.”
“Ah, well, I can save you the trouble of worrying about the chicken. I’m more in the mood for chowder,” Harou said with a grin. He pulled a large paper parcel out of his journey bag and handed it to Calista. Calista undid the string and pulled open one corner.
“Ah, whitefish filets?” she peeked over the package at her brother, who beamed at her and nodded. “It’s a hefty package,” she noted.
“Yeah, it’s about ten pounds of filets. I wanted to make sure there’d be enough for everyone,” Harou nodded.
“Oh, well, Papa and Bardoul aren’t home.”
“They will be. I saw them in town when I passed through on my way to the house.”
Calista was delighted by that piece of news. She passed the parcel back to Harou and hurried into the kitchen, waving for him to follow. The pair of siblings worked together to peel and chop the vegetables, pick and wash herbs from the garden to flavor the fish stew, and finally, to debone and chop the filets. Once Calista was satisfied the stew was simmering properly in the big, cast iron cauldron that hung over the brick kitchen hearth, she wiped her hands on her apron and beamed at her brother.
“Ok, big brother, now we can go practice fighting!” she said.
Harou’s amber eyes lit up and he nodded.
“Good, let’s go. I say this every time, and I’ll keep saying it… I’m very proud of you doing this, little sis.”
“My response is always the same,” she said, shaking her head. “I appreciate your support, but I’m only doing this to protect myself.”
Harou’s expression darkened.
“Are Rannulf and Gunnolf still bothering you?” he growled.
“It’s the same as it has been,” she shrugged. “They haven’t escalated, but I still think that’s just because nobody wants to be the first to overtly violate the agreement Grandma made.”
“I don’t want to sound like Pa, but if you mated…”
“Mated with whom? Rannulf? Gunnolf? Maybe their friend Channing who tags along with them now? It’s not like I have time to meet new lycans. The only lycans I ever see who aren’t relatives are the sick or injured who come to me for medical care. Papa and Bardoul are rarely home, which I don’t blame them for, since we need money to live among humans. Ulva and Orfilia haven’t done much to help out since Mama died. Papa lets them get away with it because they are out finding mates, and because he’s too hung up on keeping them happy to make up for losing Mama,” Calista sighed. Harou patted her shoulder and let her vent.
“And I’m not home much because I have my military obligations keeping me away for long stretches too,” he said, amber eyes full of sympathy. He swept his auburn bangs out of his eyes. “Although, me being around would not help you find a mate anyway. I’m very intimidating,” he joked, waggling his eyebrows.
Calista giggled and punched his shoulder.
The brother and sister duo walked to their usual practice spot in the woods. It was deep enough to be out of sight of any humans, and still technically on property their family owned, so there shouldn’t be any misplaced hunters stumbling on them either. It was also within what the human town considered to be their borders, so it wasn’t within the territory range of the pack of lycans that lived beyond the town.
In Calista’s grandmother’s time, the lycans who now lived in the town among humans used to be part of that same pack. But, some of them believed the humans would continue to encroach on their territory, and a war with the humans would be an ultimately losing battle. They believed the survival of their kind hinged on being able to hide among humans, rather than hide from them in the wilderness. At the very least, lycans needed to learn more about humans if they were going to live around them safely. The first time Harou had come home on leave after joining the military, he’d brought back a phrase that he felt fully encapsulated what their grandmother’s generation of lycans intended to do when they went to live among humans: Know thy enemy.
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