He hadn’t spoken to me about anything other than work in days. When he delivered my dinner, he left immediately. When he fetched me in the morning, he didn’t give any orders because I was always ready to go. “You’re shoveling today.”
“What?”
“Shoveling the snow at the camp.” He took the stairs then stepped into high drifts of snow. “Happens after every storm.”
At least it was a deviation from the same mindless work. And it was a break from the clearing, where that woman’s body still hung. “What’s your name?”
He walked ahead of me, handling the accumulation of snow better than I did because he was nearly a foot taller. His legs were more muscular than mine, so he cut through the snow like he had blades on his boots. “Why? I don’t know yours.”
The church bell in the distance gave me hope of escape, so now I needed to get all my ducks in a row. The more information, the better. “Raven.” There was no incentive to be difficult at this point.
He walked ahead.
“This is where you tell me yours.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
I trailed behind him, moving through the snow that reached my knees. I had to swing my arms far to get through the powder, my legs burning because they were still sore from the trek into the wild yesterday.
Then I tripped and fell right into a pile, my face hitting the slush on impact.
Now I’d be frozen all damn day.
I pushed out of the pile, losing my grip and sliding through the frictionless wetness.
A gloved hand appeared.
I stared at it and almost didn’t take it.
I was cold, achy, and exhausted. I placed my hand in his and felt his strength pull me to my feet, my tired body lifting effortlessly.
He turned away and continued to walk.
“Thank you.”
“It takes time to get used to.”
I moved behind and followed him until we reached the front of the camp where the main building was located. It faced the open landscape, the sea of whiteness until the next line of trees in the far distance. Women were already there, wielding heavy shovels as they dug into the snow and disposed of it near the trees. “Do you guys stay in that bigger cabin?”
He shook his head. “You’re still on that, huh?” He was fully aware of my desire to escape, but he never tattled on me, never punished me for it. He seemed more amused than anything else.
“Just curious…”
He stopped near the porch, where a group of guards sat in their comfy chairs and drank from mugs with steam rising to their faces, probably hot coffee. “Grab a shovel and get to it.”
“Am I doing this all day?”
“You’re doing this for several days.” He turned around and disappeared—like always. The guy was an enigma, because he seemed separate from the rest of the men even though he wore the same clothing. It was unclear if his station was lower or higher than everyone else.
I grabbed a shovel and moved into the crowd.
That was when I spotted Melanie.
She stuck the shovel into the snow, pushing down on the handle to scoop it up, and then picked it up and carried it to the pile.
I was so happy to see her that my elation chased away the cold—just for a moment.
I moved to where she’d been working, near the corner of one of the cabins.
She came back to me, her eyes full of surprise when she saw my face close up. Before this, all the eye contact we had took place across the clearing, far away from each other. Emotion filled her eyes, the guilt written all over her face.
I was just thankful to see her.
I wanted to rush to her and hug her, to hold my sister in my arms again, to tell her I would solve this problem like all the others. But the guards watched on, and if I did anything out of the ordinary, they would separate us.
I carried the shovel to her area and dug it into the snow, using my foot to push down. “Do it like this. It’s easier than pushing with your arms.”
She was still beside me, like she was too upset to do anything, too overrun with emotion.
“Melanie, come on.”
She breathed a deep sigh, the vapor coming from her nostrils in a long trail like smoke from a cigar. Then she pushed her shovel into the snow and copied my movements.
“Pick it up like this. Otherwise, you’re going to hurt your back.” I showed her how to scoop it up with the least amount of work. Then we both carried our snow to the tree line to add it to the pile.
Her back was turned to the guards, so she started to break, her emotions bursting through her skin like water through cracked glass. She breathed hard, shut her lips tight to battle the sobs, and then her lips quivered. “I’m so sorry—”