Hidden (Book 1) (3 page)

Tressa stepped into the cottage she’d grown up
in. The dark wooden walls had always formed a cocoon of happiness for her and
Granna. The joyous air in their home had been sucked into Granna with her final
inhalation. She probably hadn’t meant to take it with her. Or maybe it had
wafted out of her with each exhalation, and now that she was gone, it wouldn’t
enter again.

Adam
stood over her great grandmother, rubbing oil into her skin, bringing back the
luster that had left her. “She’ll look exactly as she did before her death,”
Adam said without looking over his shoulder. His red hair seemed dull in the dim
light. “During the public viewing, everyone will remember her just as she was.
You, unfortunately, will only remember the way she looked at the moment of her
death.” He wasn’t one to offer lies for comfort. Tressa appreciated it.

“I
assumed as much.” She made her way around the table to Granna’s bedside. Yes,
Adam had brought some color back to Granna’s face. She would make a good
showing to the people of Hutton’s Bridge. They would remember her fondly.
“While I hope someday that memory will fade, the way her chest collapsed, and
the life flew out of her, I won’t ever regret a moment of it. Granna was my
only family. I’m glad I was there for her in her last moments.”

Adam
wiped his hand on a towel hanging from the waist of his breeches. “Need a hug?”
He held his arms out.

Tressa
hadn’t known her father. He’d volunteered to enter the fog after her mother
died. Adam never had children of his own, so he became a bit of a father figure
to Tressa. She stepped into his embrace, laying her head on his shoulder. Even
though he was Bastian’s uncle, they looked nothing alike, except for their red
hair. Adam was thin where Bastian was muscular, short where Bastian was tall.
Yet they both held such special places in her heart.

Memories
crashed through her mind. At six, she fell off a fence and skinned her knee.
Adam had carried her back to Granna’s cottage, wiping her tears with his
sleeve. He’d been kind and gentle to her when others hadn’t. They’d been too
busy with their own families, their own children, to help out an orphan.

Nothing
was more important in her village than family. They kept careful records of
lineages, to ensure their lines remained untainted. With such a small
population of only a couple hundred, it would be too easy to interbreed. Since
they had no way of bringing in new people, each coupling was engineered. Yes,
they chose a ribbon from a basket, but the ribbons weren’t placed by chance. It
was carefully done, with forethought and planning.

Adam rubbed
Tressa’s back, bringing her to the present. “We’ll all miss Sophia. She may
have been a bit of a tyrant, but she had a good heart.”

Tressa
stepped back, placing a hand on Granna’s. It was now crossed over her stomach
with her other arm.
A pose of no return.
She
wasn’t far enough gone yet to be chilled
, but without the
life searing through her veins, she felt no more alive than the clothes Tressa
wore.

“I
know she did.
Udor’s going to try to change things.
He
might outlaw entering the fog.”

Adam
opened his mouth,
then
hesitated. “You’re supposed to
be a part of it tomorrow, right?”

Tressa
nodded without looking at Adam. She straightened Granna’s light linen dress.
Summer or winter, Granna still wore the same type of dress. It was as if she
didn’t feel the cold.

“I
am.” Tressa motioned at Granna. “Do you mind if I do her hair? She didn’t feel
up to it this morning.”

“Of
course. People might not recognize her without it.”

Adam
had already swept Granna’s thick hair over her shoulder. Tressa weaved Granna’s
hair in an intricate pattern Granna had spent her life perfecting. She’d taught
it to Tressa as a young girl. She’d spent hours practicing with ribbons to get
the pattern just right.

When
Granna said Tressa could try it on her own hair, she’d gotten nervous and
tangled it up so badly that Granna couldn’t fix it. Tressa had cried as Granna
chopped her dark hair off. It fell to the floor in clumps.

“No
need for tears,” Granna had told her. “Hair always grows back.”

But it
wasn’t the growing back that concerned Tressa. She’d just turned thirteen and
realized her feelings for Bastian were more than that of childhood friends.
Later in the day, he’d told her he was glad her hair was short because it made
her look less like a girl.

Tressa
had slapped him, burst into tears, and tried to run away. Bastian grabbed her
wrist, pulling her back to him. “I’m glad because now the other boys may not
look at you the same way I do. I want you all to myself.”

That
was the moment he’d first laid his lips on hers. A salty, sweet mix of gentle
yearning, coupled with the innocence of youth. It lasted only a few seconds,
but long enough to solidify itself in Tressa’s mind as the best kiss she’d ever
have.

After
the kiss, they’d awkwardly stared at each other until Tressa couldn’t handle it
anymore and ran away. Kissing someone who hadn’t been chosen for coupling was
against the law. Children who were caught doing it got in trouble with their
parents and Granna. If Tressa and Bastian had been caught, Granna would have
been furious. She indulged Tressa, but she also expected her to follow the
rules.

“It’s
a beautiful braid,” Adam said.

Yes,
the braid looked exactly as it should. She’d learned a lot in the last few
years when it came to weaving. That was the way Tressa contributed to their
village. Everyone had a job. There was no payment, or money, though they still
had a stockpile of it from the days before the fog fell.

“Thanks.
It’s the result of many years of practice.”

Adam
tapped the patterned vest he wore over his linen shirt. “Oh, I know. This is my
favorite vest.”

A
blush crept across Tressa’s cheeks. She actually enjoyed her work, unlike most
of the others her age who complained about their jobs. She took pride in
creating something beautiful out of raw materials. “I’m glad you like it.”

Tressa
took another look at Granna. Everything was as it should be. There were no
elaborate rites for burial anymore. About fifty years ago, the elders decided
they no longer had enough land to bury the dead. The new ritual was a public
viewing the same day as death,
then
passing the body
into the fog next to the old cemetery. They had tried burning the dead, but the
stench was too much to bear. The fog was their only alternative. It swallowed
them whole, erasing their existence in the wink of an eye.

“Are
you ready for this, Tressa? To lay her to rest?”

She
wasn’t. She would never be. But she knew the practicalities of keeping a dead
body around too long. Her grief didn’t outweigh anyone else’s. She had to do
what everyone else in the village had done in the past.

“Yes.”
It was a lie, but an expected one.

Adam pulled
a shroud over Granna’s body. He opened the door and motioned. Three men stepped
in, Connor, Geoff, and Sean. Together, they lifted the pallet under Granna. Tressa
held the door open for Adam. They carried Granna’s body out into the village
toward the stone slab in the middle of the main courtyard.

People
stood to the side, respectfully allowing the procession to continue unhindered.
A bell sounded, calling everyone to the town square. Those who hadn’t heard of
Granna’s passing would know soon enough. It didn’t take long for gossip to
spread and by the time everyone arrived at the town square, they would all be
prepared to see Granna’s body lying there.

Tressa
looked ahead. The elders had already gathered around the stone. Udor stood at
the head. His expression was carefully set in place. It was one of sadness and
concern. Tressa saw past the small smirk attempting to escape from the corner
of his mouth. His eyes sparkled, knowing he was finally to become the ruler of
the village. He wouldn’t have dared to challenge Granna, but with her gone, no
one would try to usurp him. It was a peaceful village out of necessity. Anyone
who broke the laws repeatedly was forced into the fog, a fate more frightening
than death.

Adam
directed the others to lay Granna’s body carefully on the stone. Her shroud
fluttered in the breeze, slapping the sides of the slab.

They
stood awkwardly for a few minutes, waiting for the last of the villagers to
gather in the square. Tressa refused to look at Udor, but wouldn’t allow
herself
to look at Granna, for fear the tears would return.
Instead she looked out into the crowd, locking eyes with Bastian.

She
allowed herself only one moment of weakness. He stood quiet. Solid. Tressa let
herself drown in his sympathetic eyes, remembering the day he’d first kissed
her and wishing with all of her heart that she’d have the chance again, one
day, to let herself love another.

“This
is a sad day for the village.” Udor’s voice boomed over the crowd. “We have
lost one of our founding mothers. Truly, Sophia was a mother to all of us. Let
us have a moment of silence to remember how she graced Hutton’s Bridge with her
love and caring.”

Tressa
wanted to kick him in the gut or punch him in the mouth, anything to get him to
shut up. He’d never even liked Granna. No one loved her like Tressa had. She
glanced through the people crowded in the square, their eyes lowered, some with
their hands folded in prayer. Tressa wished for it all to be over, but she knew
there were at least a few more hours she had to bear.

During
the viewing, anyone who wanted could walk by Granna’s body. They might linger
only for a moment, but in some cases, people would stop for a long while. Probably
worried about
their own
mortality. To Tressa, it was
torture. Everyone in her village knew everyone else, but no one knew Granna
like she did.

“Take
your time saying goodbye,” Udor continued.

Tressa
drew her eyes away from the crowd to stare at him.

“In
the meantime, I will be meeting with the elders to discuss the future of our
village.” With that final declaration, Udor spun on one heel, his cape floating
behind him, and strode into the meeting hall.

Tressa itched to run
after him. Her fate depended on their decisions. The next day she would either
step into the fog never to return, or stay put in a village that was
suffocating her.

Sunset was a strange time in Bastian’s village.
The horizon was blocked by the fog, so the closer the sun traveled to setting,
the fog turned a salmon color, just like the fish they cared for in the pond.
It left their village bathed in an unsettling glow. They rarely had this much
sun in the cool nights of late summer. Usually the sky was shrouded in low
clouds, sealing the village in a tomb of misty tendrils.

Tressa’s
eyes were trained on the fog. He knew what was going through her mind without
even asking.
He stood off to the side
,
sure she didn’t notice him
.

She
turned her attention back to Sophia’s prone body. “Oh, they’re gone.” Her voice
carried over to where he was standing. She was right. Everyone except Connor, Sean,
Geoff, and Adam had left.

“We’re
going to put her to rest now. Do you want to come?” Adam beckoned to the
younger men.

“I
can’t,” Sean said. “I promised my mother I’d get back to work.” He turned to
Tressa. “I’m so sorry.” He gave her an awkward hug,
then
took off in the opposite direction.

Adam
looked around and saw Bastian. With two fingers cocked in the air, Adam
motioned him over. Bastian looked to Tressa, but she’d already started toward
the fog. If she wouldn’t object, then he was more than willing to help.

Bastian
took over Sean’s position near Sophia’s feet. Connor and Adam took the lead. Tressa
walked three paces in front of them. Sophia’s braid hung off the side.

The
grass stood taller the closer they got to the fog.

Adam
held his palm up. Connor, Geoff, and Bastian brought Sophia to a careful halt.

They all
looked at Tressa, all except Bastian who looked at Tressa’s feet.

“Is
there anything you want to say before we commend her to the fog?” Adam asked.

“Can I
have a moment alone with her?” Tressa asked.

Adam
nodded. They removed Sophia from the pallet and set her down gently on the
ground, her back against a large rock.

Tressa
took Sophia’s hand in hers again. She leaned over to whisper in her ear.

Bastian
wanted to go to her side, lay a hand on her back, steady her, but Tressa
wouldn’t have allowed it. The last thing he wanted was to interfere where he
wasn’t wanted. If they had still been bonded, he knew his place would be next
to her.

Tressa
paused for a moment, just breathing, as if Sophia might speak if she hesitated
long enough. Sophia’s chest remained still. Her eyelids didn’t flutter. It
really was all over.

Tressa
stumbled backward, a hand over her pink lips and a waterfall gushing down her
cheeks. Bastian held out his arms. She fell into them, not even noticing who
held her. Tressa’s head fell onto his chest, her eyes focused only on Sophia’s
body as Adam scooped her tiny grandmother into his arms. His toes touched the
fog and his arms passed through the tendrils of gray mist until he seemed
armless. Her body disappeared. There was no noise. They didn’t know where the
bodies went or if they lay just beyond their grasp. It was the way of the fog.

Bastian
held tighter as Tressa’s trembles turned to gasping breaths.

“I
love you.”

It was
only a whisper. Bastian was sure he was the only one who’d heard Tressa tell
Sophia one last time how much she meant to her.

Adam
stepped backward, his arms empty. He turned around. “I’m so sorry, Tressa.”

She nodded. Her muscles
relaxed. She turned her head and saw it was Bastian holding her so tenderly.
Tressa gasped and ran off toward the village, taking Bastian’s heart with her.