Merilla was sitting on a tree stump gazing with empty eyes across the yard as her boys ran about in a mindless game of chase. Kestrel went to his horse to take him out in search of fodder while the sun still lit the forest, as the two little boys came running over to see the animal.
“There’s a pasture down by the brook, that way,” Merilla seemed to anticipate his need as she suddenly stood and pointed, still looking lost.
“I’ll take the boys with me if you’d like some time alone,” he offered gently.
“We’ll all go with you,” she answered, and so the four of them and the horse walked the short distance to where the steed could graze contentedly while Kestrel and Merilla sat on a log and the boys chased after crickets, while Kestrel looked on with mild longing.
“Arlen told me that all the things we saved from the yeti will fetch good money at the market in Estone,” Kestrel spoke at last, after several minutes of silence.
Merilla nodded silently.
“Our plan is to take you and your family back to Estone and sell everything we can. Arlen thinks it will give you a good amount of money you can use to support your family,” he continued.
She turned her head to look at him, still silent.
“So maybe tomorrow we can pack up the things you want to take with you, and then start the trip the day after that. What do you think?” he asked, unnerved by her lack of comment.
“Youkal will be lonely if we leave here. He was the one who wanted to live out here. He built everything. He cleared the trees, made the cabin, put up the shack,” she droned tonelessly. “I don’t think I can just leave him.”
“You can’t stay here,” Kestrel told her gently. “Your cabin is missing a wall, your cow is dead, and I’ll be leaving pretty soon. I don’t want to leave you alone out in the forest.
“Come with me to Estone and we can set you up for a new beginning with your boys. Merilla, you have to see this,” he told her.
She blinked her eyes, as the boys came running up to her to show the crickets they had caught.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s go back home, and I’ll cook some dinner for us all. After all the work you’ve done today, you deserve a hot meal,” Merilla told him as she stood. They walked silently back to the broken cabin, each boy holding one of her hands as Kestrel led his horse. They ate potatoes and cheese for dinner, then Merilla arranged a place for Kestrel to sleep on the floor in the front of the cabin, while she and her children went to their bed in the back of the structure, and they all fell asleep.
Kestrel dreamed of Merilla that night. She came to him in the middle of the night, her human figure enticing in its voluptuous curves, and he let her seduce him, until she suddenly pulled a knife from her hair and plunged it down into his chest. He awoke from the nightmare with a start, and sat straight up, then looked around the peaceful scene. Merilla and her children were silent, and the crescent moon was straight overhead. Nothing was moving or threatening, and he slowly lowered himself back down into his covers, and waited for his racing heart to return to a calmer beat.
When he fell asleep again he slept soundly and dreamlessly throughout the rest of the evening, and didn’t awaken again until well past dawn.
“Do you feel better?” Merilla asked him when he sat up in the sunshine that streamed in through the open cabin wall. “You looked exhausted last night, as you should after all you did.
“I sent the boys to play down in the meadow so they wouldn’t make noise here and wake you,” she continued. “I was just down there with them and got back a minute ago, to see if you’d like some breakfast.”
“Is it safe to leave them alone like that?” Kestrel asked.
“I told them to stay away from the water, and other than that they’ll be safe,” she spoke assuredly. “When you’ve had a yeti in the region for a few weeks there aren’t any wolves or bears or even lynx left around to bother about.”
Kestrel excused himself to go in the woods for a minute, and when he returned, Merilla had a bowl of oatmeal waiting for him, with some brown sugar on top. “It’s the best I can give you, I’m sorry,” she told him as she handed the bowl to him. “With the cow dead there’s no milk, and the yeti got the sow we kept in the woods, and all her litter too, when he first came down out of the mountains, so there wasn’t going to be any bacon this season any way.”
“Thank you,” Kestrel said, eating the bland food without enthusiasm, wanting to show appreciation for her effort.
She sat and watched him eat, then took the bowl wordlessly when he finished scooping out the last spoonful and handed it back to her.
“What are your thoughts about leaving today?” Kestrel asked. “I’d like to find some way to prepare the yeti goods for transportation. If you want to pick out the things you want to take with you, we’ve got the horse to carry a fair amount of goods.”
She sat silently looking around the cabin. “Kestrel, I’m not going to leave this place,” she said at last, as he sat with her and fidgeted nervously.
He looked at her in astonishment. “I’m not going to leave. Youkal is still fresh in his grave; I can’t just leave him here all alone to watch his dream fall apart. Once we leave, this homestead will crumble away, and it and my boys are the only thing on earth I have to remind me of what a good man he was.”
“He took me from my home in the middle of the night when I was fifteen years old,” she said softly, looking down into her lap. “We fell in love and my parents didn’t approve, so he came and stole me away and we got married the next day.
“Youkal brought me and a cow out here into the wildness and he built all this. We’ve started our family, and this is all we ever wanted. Why would I want to leave him alone now?” she looked up and challenged Kestrel with her stare.
“I don’t know,” he said softly.
“Have you ever lost someone you loved?” Merilla asked him. “It’s so hard to imagine that he’s not going to laugh at my next joke, or pinch me when I’m not expecting, or take one of the boys up in his arms and make then laugh.”
She needed time to accept the tragedy that had befallen her, he understood. He realized he could grant her some time; he was under no strict deadline. “I’ll stay a few days to help around here, if you want me to,” he said. “Maybe in a couple of days Youkal’s spirit will be satisfied, and ready for you to go,” he suggested.
She looked back at him, and nodded her head, although he saw doubt in her eyes. “You’re being a good man to try to help, and I’m being stupid not to leave,” she dabbed at her eyes, and tears started to fall. She raised her apron to her face, sobbing, as Kestrel sat quietly, uncomfortably beside her, unsure of what to do.
A minute later she lowered the apron from her face, her eyes and nose red. “Let’s stay here a couple of days and I’ll give you an answer. Can we?”
“Of course,” Kestrel replied, relieved that she hadn’t refused to consider leaving. He stood up, still feeling uneasy about the woman’s open display of grief, for which he could offer no comfort. “I’ll go tend to my horse,” he said awkwardly. “Is there anything you’d like for me to do today around here?”
“I’ll go get the boys,” she also stood. “I don’t have anything in mind. If I think of something I’ll let you know,” she answered, and they went their separate ways.
Kestrel brushed his horse, then mounted it and rode into the woods. He ate a few crickets, always a favorite snack of elves, to satisfy the hunger that Merilla’s oatmeal had not addressed, then strung his bow and shot a brace of squirrels to take back to the cabin and offer for the next meal. He returned before noon, and found Merilla sitting on a chair in the sunshine, watching the boys play in the yard.
She was delighted to see him return, and took the squirrels enthusiastically; he wondered if she had doubted his return. Kestrel gave the boys turns riding on his horse, going gently around the yard to their unending delight, then he led the horse and the boys down to the pasture so that his mount could graze, while Merilla had time to herself in the cabin all afternoon.