All Chapters of Will Bear the Moon: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

*Ana* When the carriage enters the town, we start to slow. The wheels clack and wobble as they cross the cobble roads. Our journey is finally coming to an end. The Dawny castle should be just ahead. My heart jumps up my throat, and I swing to the window to peer out. “About time,” Maddie relaxes. "It'll be great to get out of the carriage for a while." "Mmn," I can barely answer. I’m so distracted by the window and what I see- the streets and buildings are so different from Nochten. Everyone uses brick and wood here. Although it’s not that late in the day, I find the sun ready to set. The days are short here. Dawny’s Autumn is much different than Nochten’s. I catch sight of a colored leaf. It drops and catches into the air. I watch it fly over. I pull my hands under my pits and shiver. "I don't remember it being this cold." "Is it always like this?" Maddie moves a blanket over me. I pull it up over my chest. I am instantly grateful that she brought them. "You're just use

*Ana* Maddie was right. I feel dismal as the temperature drops the closer the maid guides us outside. She leads me down the patio steps toward the gardens. All the while, I try not to shiver obviously but it’s becoming more frequent. The Autumn chill is no joke. I have to pull the shawls closer. But they are not effective and the cold stabs through. Worse, it’s just around my shoulder. My feet and legs are getting the worse end of the deal. The chilly air seems to lick at them. I should have just put on that stupid dress. I am suffering silently. Ahead of the maid, I can make out a stoned seating area. A table has been set with china and snacks on tiers. The table has two chairs. One is empty as Stepmother sits in the other. Upon seeing her, I dart my eyes about. I’m hoping to find another smaller figure. Someone that should be either shorter or around my height. But, as we draw over, my expectations die. There is no one else around. It is going to be just the two of us. Thoug

*Ana* After my Stepmother leaves, I don’t move from the table. My mind is blank as I feel the events linger. I’m trying to make sense of things, but it doesn’t stay still enough. It keeps rolling around in my head. I can still feel her kick under the table- her phantom nails grating over my skin. But the final blow was to hear that I won’t see brother or father.- that he doesn’t want to see me. She could say all of this without losing her smile. “It can’t be…” My voice comes too late. No one is here to hear me. I have no one to listen. I’m not sure it could change anything, though. Even if I had spoken up then, what could I say? What could I prove? Did I have anything to counter her with? That I was safe? That Father wanted me? But then why wasn’t he here? Was it really true that he had to leave? Or was that an excuse? What proof do I have? Did I have proof that it wasn’t true? Nothing. This is the quickest answer that comes to mind. I have nothing. What I have is a single le

I must be in the right direction. The song is getting louder. Thank god, I’m relieved that I’m going the right way. It's been a couple of minutes of following down the strange hall. And it would be a waste if I wasn’t. I’ve been trying to remember this when I turn- so I can find my way back. I don't want to be lost. But it’s easy to get distracted by what I found here. My eyes can’t seem to stop themselves from roaming. But seeing it has proven one thing for sure, this hall is abandoned. It has to be. It’s full of discarded pieces with little to no organization. As if this were the land of castaways- I see furniture covered up in big white sheets and portraits piled on each other. Unidentifiable pieces of wood and building supplies are bundled haphazardly together- as if someone intended to come back for them. But that must have been who knows how long ago. Everything has a thick coat of dust. I move my hand to trace a line over an exposed armrest. It’s clean against the thick c

“Hello, little brother,” I repeat. But I still don't believe it. I never thought I would get to say those words. Let alone see the very face that is my brother. This must be a dream. Or not- as I hear another snore from him. It breaks the fantasy- only proving that this has to be real. I don’t think anyone ever dreams about someone else snoring. But still, I can’t help but stare on. “He’s adorable.” I find myself needing to gush over him. His face looks so sweet, like a little doll- a miniature of my father in almost all the ways, save for the beard. But outside of that, I am happy. It's good he takes after Father. Better than the alternative-if he happened to take after my stepmother more- I don’t think I could do that. I already know. It would make this very difficult. Just thinking of her makes me shiver. What a scary woman. Was she always like this? I can't remember. But there is something I was right about. If this was his room, which it had to be-This child is well tak