The next morning, Casey was told to meet Victor in the meadows. She knew every narrow, straight, or unknown path to the people. Roads that even the bandits did not know. Since she was a little girl, she always escaped to the forest to play alone. It was here that she met a boy different from the other villagers. She never liked Calne, nor its people, but the open country surroundings, the green meadows reflecting the nearby forest, and the rainbow-coloured flowers were beautiful, and day after day, she welcomed the sunrise on the hills of Calne. 

But today, as she walked, the boy stood on the meadow gazing at the black smoke rising above the hills and trees beyond, and she wondered what happened. He must have been up all night, Casey thought. He stood there with his hands behind his back, wearing the same clothes as last night. Earlier in the morning, his father went to Casey’s grandparents’ house, and Casey told him she would help look for him. He had been in his mind-palace again, so much so that when she tried to get his attention, he barely noticed until she threw a rock at him. 

“What was that for?” he yelled. 

“You were daydreaming like a loon. Still, I can’t blame you. Last night was crazy. Where did you go?” Victor was silent but shrugged at her. 

Given Gareth’s reputation in the town, she dared not ask him about the men in the inn last night. 

“What are you doing tonight? My grandparents said you can come for dinner if you wanted.” “Sure. That sounds great.” 

“You need to pay for it, though!” Casey added. “They need some help on the farm. Are you okay with that?” Victor gave an affirmative shrug, and the two set off towards Casey’s home. 

It was a large plot of land filled with the fresh smell of animals, manure, and woodsmoke. She wondered if Victor had been a farmer in another life, he always seemed welcome to work and happy to help others. Given his parents’ status, no one would believe it. The Cardnells, as Victor always referred to her grandparents, were old now and would often hire the help of young men to do most of the work. Her grandfather, Thomas, owned the large farming estate that was always busy. And her grandmother, Amelia, was a retired servant. But today the duties fell only on her friend, Victor. 

After a little guidance from Casey, Victor spent a good hour grafting some weaker and younger apple and pear trees to older, stronger ones so they would have a better harvest the following year. After that, they struggled to guide the dairy cattle from the fields into the milking parlour, and it took over three hours to fill all the buckets. Casey had been fixing the hay piles when Victor came to her. 

“I never want to see a cow’s underside ever again,” Victor said. 

Casey laughed out loud. 

“Could be worse.” She took off her gloves to remove some hay strings that had mixed with her hair. “Come… let’s see what Grandmother made.” 

Lunch held an open-fire roasted pig that her grandfather had butchered the day before. Pork belly and blood sausage lined the tray placed on the table with fresh potatoes and carrots stewed into a bowl of fresh root soup to compliment, all at the behest of her grandmother. Victor served himself vegetables as usual. No meat. “It had been so long since I had eaten real farm food. The staff at Waltz Manor are not as good as my family pretends. They leave much to be desired,” Victor admitted. 

Alas, she could only handle potato porridge and boiled chicken for a while before she felt crazy. But the meal presented to them by her grandparents was sublime. 

“Honest food for honest work,” said Mrs Cardnell, scattering further trimmings around the table. 

The lunch was excellent, and Casey realised how hard she had been working all morning by the multiple servings she shovelled down. By the time they had all finished, Casey didn’t want to move for the rest of the day, but as she let her meal digest, she thought about what she would do for her grandparents in the afternoon. After a somewhat overextended break, they finally returned to work, and for afternoon duties Casey and Victor moved to watering and weeding the potato fields, so they worked them alongside each other so they could pass the time more easily. 

“This is sort of boring, don’t you think?” said Casey. Victor shrugged. 

“It suits me fine. It’s better than all the other madness people seem to enjoy doing or talking about these days.” 

“Like what, Victor?” He shrugged again. “You should tell me more things, you know. I can tell something’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Victor asserted to her. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.” Casey’s ears perked up like a cat. 

“Yeah? You want to talk about it?” Suddenly and without restraint, Victor immediately confided all the weight that had been sitting on him. He told her about his blackouts and nightmares, and how everybody thought he was some magic-user or something ridiculous. 

“I don’t understand what is wrong with everybody. They’re all crazy, thinking I’m a ‘warlock’ or whatever. Everybody is so delusional. I just want a quiet life here. And they say they want me to join this ‘Darklight Academy’, which I’m sure is an asylum for the psychotic. I’m not psychotic. I’m just tired. I’m just tired!” Casey could see the anger built up in him for a hot minute, but after a moment he calmed down his breathing and brought himself back down to equilibrium. 

Casey’s eyes had welled up, and she was looking down to the floor beside him. All this time, all she needed to do was tell him. Confess. 

“What is it, Casey?” asked Victor. “Victor, I’m sorry,” she started, but her voice caught in her throat. “Victor, I need to tell you something.” She paused for what felt like a long time and they could hear the leaves and branches of oak and pine trees in the surrounding thicket knocking gently against themselves, that sounded almost like the rolling waves of an ocean. 

“I feel embarrassed. I should have told you, I’m so sorry for not trusting in you. And here I was talking about trust. I-I… I am leaving soon for Darklight Academy.” 

The trees appeared to stop swaying.