11  The Trouble Miss Aspen-Fauna has been Getting Into

I watched through the glass; the places I could see that were not a part of this wretched mansion calmed me. My heart thrummed as I heard Sam and Adonis exit their rooms. and I absently brushed the bodice of my dress with my hand, feeling the two hard lumps concealed within the silky top. I had thought of this plan long ago, and even though Odin forcing me to come along slightly changed my course, I still clearly knew what I wanted to achieve this morning.

As more and more silent minutes crept by, I felt tensions’ edge honing, sharpening and drawing in practically until I could see it. Why haven’t they moved on yet? Surely Odin will decide to leave me behind, I thought, readjusting and sinking deeper into the banister. At least, I think I still have that much power over him.

I held still, immovable, an ancient tree, attempting to convince Odin that I was so lost in my admiration of the hillside that I would not notice anything other than myself. It was a fairly easy task, as the sunrise was quite lovely this morning. Come on now! For once, I actually wish you would ignore me! I struggled to keep my face pleasantly reserved as I felt my back become uncomfortably hot, sensing the eyes of many staring at me. A single drop of sweat rolled down the front of my neck.

My skin crawled and I had to resist the urge to whip around and challenge the onlookers with my own stare. A cold battle ensued; an unsaid battle of wills. Who will cave first? Will I give up to scratch this sensation off my skin, or will I be left alone? I amused myself with the thought, imagining a wrestler referee announcing this as the reason for the fight.

Finally, I felt the pressure snap as fabric swished and boots clacked behind me. Unfortunately, it sounded like only one pair of boots walking, meaning Odin was not departing quite yet. The boots stopped. I heard soft whispers, and focused in on the syllables, trying to make sense of the words. I picked up, “….Lady Aspen until she is ready to leave, but….not allowed to disturb her until…..catch up with us afterwards in the library. Thank you.” After he delivered the instructions, I deduced that a guard was going to fetch a maid to babysit me, and had my suspicions confirmed when the same-sounding pair of boots walked away, the clacking slowly fading as they disappeared down the hall. The rest of the guards, as well as Sam and Adonis, turned after Odin’s retreating back and trailed after him. My own back relaxed, and a natural smile grew upon my face.

A nanny kind of messes with my plan, or more of a collection of ideas I suppose, but I can work with it. I am somewhat proficient at improvisation. I need to start moving, because I’m guessing I have seven minutes before the maid shows, which by then I need to be back at the railing with none the wiser. Twirling around, I glanced once more down the hall where Odin had led, making sure I was no longer in sight of the group, and loosened the bodice of my dress to slip out keys. I fiddled with the tight lower laces, wishing I had worn a simpler dress. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adonis randomly lurch forward, but I did not have any time to pay more attention to whatever interaction happened.

I then dashed over to Sam’s room, picking the lock while counting backwards from four-hundred twenty to keep track of time. Leaving a crack between the door and its jamb, I tip-toed into his room. I rewrapped the key with scraggly twine and coarse paper, tying it off with my teeth, and slipped a note in it so he knew it was from me and would not worry that it was some new kind of torture device. Three-hundred eighty-three, three-hundred eighty-two, three hun…oh darn, where can I hide this?….seventy-nine….” I frantically spun, then decided that the top edge of the television was a decent enough temporary hiding spot. I’ll just hide Adonis’ in the same spot. Three-hundred seventy-four. I wonder if Sam still has the knife I left him. Three-hundred seventy-two.

Returning to the hall, I shut the door behind me as I quietly ran to Adonis’. I repeated the same process, opening the packet to let myself in, retying the twine to stow it, leaving the door ajar to make it easier to get out, and finally gently balancing the inconspicuous package on the tip of the television. Three-hundred fifteen…nice…I still have plenty of time before…” loud clacking echoed through the hallway. “….or I guess not. That guard must have run into some random maid down the hall instead of having to cross the house to their main break room. Now there’s no way I could make it back to the balcony without being seen, and I don’t know if I could explain away my sudden movement without looking suspicious..” Unable to think of a clever enough solution, my only somewhat-logical idea was to shut myself in the room and wait for them to leave before I let myself out. I’ll have to take out the key again because I believe these doors automatically lock when they close, but at least the maid won’t be able to break through unless they have keys. I inched forward, closing the door so much that only one of my eyes could see out the hairline crevice. I peered out and waited for them to appear from behind the slight curve in the house, then fully shut the door as I saw their polished shoes flash out. I pressed my ear to the thick wood, guilt jolting through me as I realized the maid would suffer the consequences of my actions; if they could not find me, Odin would definitely lead a massive search for me and blame the maid for the mistake, even though it was my own conniving.

I shifted on my feet, transferring my weight from one hip to the other, anxious to keep moving. As I shuffled about, the bottom of my high heel made a loud scraping noise as I dragged it across the plank floor. I froze and looked down, grimacing and pleading the maid didn’t hear the grating noise. Very slowly, I tenderly lifted my foot and moved it back to me.

The echoing steps stopped.

“Aspen?” the door muffled their voice, jumbling the letters and making it barely comprehensible. They coughed and tried calling again. “Miss Aspen-Fauna? Are you here, Miss?” shame curled through my stomach. “Uhm, Miss-! It-It’s time to leave!” I deduced it was a female voice, as she was speaking louder and I could hear her much clearer. I pressed my eyes shut and rested my forehead on the wood, screwing up my face, feeling repulsed with myself. I twitched away from the door as the handle started randomly jiggling. “Are you in there, Miss Aspen? Hello?” I listened to her repeat it with every door, becoming louder and more desperate-sounding. I shrank further back. After a few more moments of door-jiggling, she finally gave up.

I heard, “…oh no,” very faintly and nothing else.

Fantastic. I just ruined someone’s day. I tried to shake off my remorse and think about what I should do now. Well….I do know where all the security cameras are… I grinned devilishly. So I know all of their blindspots. For instance, there was only one camera in every main hall, above the first floor. Odin’s arrogance convinced him that his security measures on the outside were great enough that he would not have to worry about threats from the inside, because there would not be any. Never would he even consider that Aspen, tame, naive, helpless Aspen could ever want to do more than be a doll, submissive to his immovable hands.

I dropped to the rug, slipped off my heels, unlaced my dress, and pulled off the single band fashioning my hair into a ‘half-up-half-down’ style. I shook off the sleeves on my dress, stood, and wiggled out of the entire thing. Blushing, I thought it would be rather inconvenient if Odin decided to return at this moment; having to explain why I was in a male prisoner’s room practically naked would not be an explanation to look forward to. I rubbed my arms as a shiver danced up my spine, surprised by how cold Adonis’ room was. Gathering up the dress in the crook of one arm, I used the opposite hand to pull open a drawer and reach out a pair of sweatpants, then the second pair as well. I tossed the first pair onto his bed and shook out the second pair and refolded them with my dress tucked inside. Replacing next to the sweatshirts, I stole one of those as well, and put on my weak disguise, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror.

These are humongous on me. I grasped the bottom edge of the sweatshirt and fluffed it out, observing how it completely hid my form. The sweatpants slipped down my hips, and I hiked them back up, pulling them past my stomach. Perfect. If I do make a mistake and accidentally walk in front of a camera, I’ll be wholly unrecognizable, and could probably pass off as a guard or gardener or whatever other kind of people wander around here. For a fraction of a second, annoyance flashed through me as I realized how little I knew about this house, even though I had been living here for nearly three years.

Now for finishing touches, I thought, flipping the hood of the sweatshirt up and tucking stray strands of hair behind my ears. Swimming back to the main room in my borrowed outfit, I grabbed my heels and hid them behind some bottles in the bathroom cabinet. As I pushed the bottles back together, I faltered, my fingertip dangling on the cap of a tile cleaner. This is going to put both me and Adonis into a load of trouble. Everything in here is incriminating. I frowned, struggling to decide whether to go through with my half-assed plan or retreat back to relative safety.

I’m too deep already. I need to do this. My resolve hardened to iron. I need to see what’s in the backyard.

Determination permeated my body, soaking through me and sparking fire in my heart.I smirked and stalked to his television to grab the lockpick, faking confidence in my swagger. I left the door a crack open, returned the key, grabbed a pair of the thick socks now that I had no shoes.

I stepped out and kicked the door, swinging it close. I turned to flee, commiting to the stupidest thing I had ever done.

I paused.

A millimeter before the edge met the frame, I wedged my palm in. A kernel of good moral caught in my throat. I raked my eyes over Adonis’ room again, shameful tears burning in my eyes. I’m so sorry Adonis. I’m putting you in so much more danger than you bargained for.

As an afterthought, I slinged my plain hairband into the room. If Adonis saw it first, he might have a small warning before he was punished for something he had no part in. If anyone else saw it, they might think it was Adonis’. A small, subtle clue that hopefully Adonis will find.

One last wistful cast; then I shut the room and ran away.

I dashed through the halls confidently, pleased that my socks reduced my strides to bashful swipes. Whenever possible, I used the little-used servant’s shortcuts; most simply walked in the main halls, leaving the dusty, ramshackle passageways to themselves. Some sections of the ancient corridors were so dank the wood rotted away, and others had no windows, saturating the section in blackness. Out of the whole estate, the servant’s passages were the oldest and worst-kept parts of it, many of the areas having issues with pests and lots of the twisting passageways leading to dead-ends or crawl spaces. I ran lightly, bouncing on the balls of my feet, gliding over the jagged, splintered wood. I had most of the absurd map of the passages memorized, the result of Odin allowing me to explore the mansion by myself when I first arrived here.

Left, right, veer to the left, down the stairs, flip 180, down another set of stairs, straight, and there it is, there being the washroom. The gaping entrance was weakly hidden by a towel bar on the other side. I brushed the towel to the side, checking for maids and squinting as the harsh lights blinded me. A single maid worked at the far end of the room, hanging synthetic-material clothes out to dry. She labored for minutes, hanging clothes, switching loads of laundry from the washing machines to the dryers, refilling the washing machines, folding clean clothes. Come on now, I thought, starting to become impatient. My forehead creased and my fingers twitched, knowing that every anxious minute wasted was one minute less than I had before my disappearance made it to Odin’s ears.

When I thought I could not stand one more minute of watching her fold, hang and reorder the clothes, she finally stacked all the folded items into groups of shirts, socks, underwear and pants into a large hamper, balanced it on her waist, and departed. I breathed out, waiting a couple more seconds to make sure no one else came, then tore the towel aside and bounded to the back door. It was a simple door, painted white with a window set in the upper middle of it and a small shade blocking part of it. I crouched and looked side to side. I think there is a security camera on the wall next to this door. Even if I was seen on camera, I don’t think I would be recognized…but I still don’t want to take unnecessary risks…

I leaned to my right and snatched a dirty sock lying on the floor. I painstakingly scooted the door on its hinges, centimeter-by-centimeter, waiting until the perfect moment that I could jump up and slip the sock over the lens, hopefully succeeding on the first try. The camera was an older one, and instead of having a circular three-hundred sixty view, it rotated on an old rusty support. I crouched and concentrated on it, counting how long each rotation took, learning the proper timing to jump. One…two…three! I exploded upwards, launching myself towards the camera and shoving the sock onto it as quickly as possible, then caught myself on the icy pavement, dragging my nails to slow my backwards slide. I shakily stood from my deep squat, adrenaline making my head light, grateful yet again that I did not have to wear a dress while doing this. I brushed a few flecks of ice off the sleeves of Adonis’ hoodie, glancing to make sure I had succeeded in fully covering the lens. A little crooked, but it’ll do…now where do I go from here? I don’t even know exactly what I’m looking for.

I re-tucked my hair, fiddled with the hood, pulled on the drawstrings, fidgeting with myself. I breathed out, watching the air curl in white puffs and drift away. Shivers racked my chest and legs, but my feet were already numb to the coldness. I buried my hands into the long sleeves and then shoved them into the huge pocket on the front of the hoodie. Finally, I took one uncertain step away from the back door, one step closer to the secrecy and protection of the quixotic gardens.

Snow gathered in random icy clumps and the concrete walkway was slick with thin, clear ice. Browned pine needles were trapped between the glassy sheen and the smooth concrete. In summer, the walkway was nice, just-warm underfoot, with dancing beams of sunlight and always a light breeze teasing your hair. In the winter, the once-lighthearted pines seemed foreboding, and the small bushes that flourished in spring and summer shriveled to dry husks. The only color was the green pine needles, but even their vibrancy failed to brighten the scenery.

I followed the pathway with quick footsteps, fighting gravity and ice with each step and struggling to keep my balance. About thirty feet away from the house, the concrete started to gently curve up and to the right, and the paved walkway faded into a loamy trail. The trail here was protected under the dense canopy of pine branches, and though it was cooler with even less exposure to the sun, at least there were no snow patches or ice barring my progress. The trail snaked through the massive expanse of the back garden, having many turn-offs, forks, and places so small they looked only like thin game trails, all in an attempt to make the man-made area completely nature-bound.

I yearned to continue wandering aimlessly through the woods, but my entire body shook and my cheeks were frozen, so I took the branches that led to the back of the forest the quickest. The forest grew on a slight incline, meaning if I climbed the hill and dropped to the other side, I would be completely out of sight of the house entirely. Plus, at the end of the forest, I had begun planting an organized flower farm about a year ago, with expansive rows of lavender, orange poppies, lilies, bluebells, droopy pink orchids, as well as many types of local wildflowers. I ordered the rows into a large circle, split into four main quarters, and at the very center is situated a marble fountain in the shape of a dragon unfurling its wings. The once-empty barren field had been transformed into a vibrant haven for gentle bumblebees and flitting butterflies. The only mar on the natural beauty was the slate-grey twisted-wire fence that boxed in the outer reaches.

In the course of all of this, I had only been outside for ten minutes at most, but I already wanted to give into my screaming body and find somewhere warm to curl up. My lungs burned, my nose stung, my eyeballs ached for moisture. I wish I at least had boots. Or maybe a beanie.

I trudged onwards, convincing myself that I was just imagining the pain. Every breath rattled my throat, hurting my lungs so much I wanted to cry. Thin trails of watery snot dripped from my nostrils to my lips, spreading in the crevice between my upper and lower lip. I craned my neck and a sob of relief escaped me as I saw bits of pastel-blue sky, meaning I must be near the crest of the hill where the trees’ branches become thinner. My thoughts came like sludge, lingering in my dull brain like honey. Just a…few more steps…then I’ll see my garden…and- a coughing fit suddenly overtook me, and I bent in half and stopped walking, waiting for it to finish. I resumed: -and whatever Odin has slapped back…here.

The top loomed closer, twenty feet, seventeen feet, twelve feet, ten feet. I lifted my foot to step over a large knobbly root protruding from the ground, a root I had crossed a hundred times. I could not lift my toes high enough and I tripped, collapsing to the ground. Grunting, I heaved myself to my numb arms using my cold, dead fingers and tried to humor myself, thinking, well, at least I’m on the other side of it now. I hobbled the last few feet and at last looked over the field, my field. It dipped down slightly, creating the smallest bowl-shaped valley.

I looked where I had planted my flowers, normally shriveled at this time of year and begging for warmer temperatures. I looked where my fountain was, standing proud, the dragon challenging every stroller on their promenades with his fiery stare. I looked where the circle formation was, split into four lovely sections, crunchy gravel pathways breaking up the clumps.

And tears welled up in my eyes.

My knees gave out; I crashed to the soft soil.

Anguish ripped my heart in two.

Pain.

It was gone. It was all gone. Hours. Hours I had spent, laboring, pruning, digging, designing, planting.

Gone.

The grass was shriveled. Instead of hundreds of flowers, hundreds of small tents covered my land. Children teemed in them. They walked through the rows. They nodded to each other. They shivered with their inadequate winter clothes. They ate small meals from meager campfires and propane stoves.

I grieved my lost work. I wanted to hate the children for destroying the one thing I had loved passionately, but I could not. They were not at fault here.

Odin was. He always was.

My love, my husband, my partner. My stealer of dreams, my wrecker, my enemy.

Fury rose in my throat as I realized one last crucial detail.

None of the children were laughing.

Hundreds crowded the field; where were the games? The innocence? The laughter?

My throat closed. My sobs, intensified from my rage, trickled away, draining. Hatred replaced it, firing my veins, growing my frustration. My mind cleared, the sluggishness power washed away by my animosity. I no longer felt the chill. I wished it was colder to freeze my anger.

He is psychotic. Wicked. And I fell for his skullduggery.

What does he even need these kids for? Why aren’t they safe with their families?

I’m going to fix this.

My heart raced as fast as my mind. I huffed, righting myself from lying on the dirt to kneeling. I am going to save these children, but I need to save myself first. I can’t keep gambling on half-assed plans. As much as I wanted to run down to the field and hug the children, assuring them that I was here to help, I knew that there were likely cameras planted here, monitoring them. For once, I need to put self-preservation before anyone else’s safety. I’m not the only factor in this dangerous equation; Adonis, Sam, the children, and all the houseworkers must dance in this pit of glass with me.

I breathed deep once, twice, three times, crumpling my fists and screwing my eyes shut. Without opening my eyes, I slowly stood and arched my neck, splitting open my eyelids and gazing into the sky. A few wispy clouds were gusted by stiff winds, tearing apart and reshaping before my eyes, drifting lazily eastward. I reluctantly released my frustration of wanting to be a hero, but too scared of the consequences, into the heavens. The chill returned.

I gasped as the cold air shocked my lungs again, seared my cheeks and nose. I finally admitted to myself that it was indeed very cold outside, and that no amount of will power was going to stop frostbite.

I tramped away from the ridge, down the mountainside. I jumped over the knobbly root this time, using the height of the incline to my advantage and I cleared it easily, landing heavily on my stiff knees. Jamming my fingers into my armpits, I raced downhill as fast as I dared, hoping I might be able to slip into the house without being seen again. My anxiety returned as I saw the loam remerge with the pale, slick concrete. I freed my hands just to stuff back the loose strands of hair that had escaped during my journey, and slowed as the trees grew further apart, allowing that transformation of trail to pathway.

I stopped completely for a minute, staying in the shadows, watching for any signs of movement. A single guard wandered close to the perimeter, bundled in large boots, a fur coat, a scarf and mittens. I hid behind a tree as he passed, jealous of his warm gear. Finally, I stepped up to the pavement’s beginning, and decided that the easiest and quickest way to get back would be to slide on my butt and hope that I did not spin out of control and run into one of the low walls following the path. Despite myself, I enjoyed the zip to the bottom, childishly wondering if I could come out here later and do it again. The slide deposited me right next to where I started, just a few feet from the laundry door.

I grinned, feeling guilty for enjoying something, and hopped up, brushing as much dirt, ice chips and pine needles off of my sweatsuit as I could. For the first time, I really looked at the damage my adventure had done to the previously light-grey colored fabric. The socks had holes in the bottom, my pants were caked with mud and ice at the bottom, creeping all the way up to my knee, and my sweatshirt had streaks of dirt and a couple small drops of blood splattered on it from some unnoticed cut.

Oh no, this is worse than I thought. I maybe could’ve gotten away with walking through the house before, but now there is no way I could possibly go through without getting attention. Stepping up the two stairs that raised the laundry room door slightly off the ground, I racked my brain for some kind of solution. Well, obviously this is a laundry room, so I could wash them, but I can’t just leave them running in the washer the whole time because I can’t stay, plus I would have to strip to nothing, and someone would probably walk in. Just before I pulled the handle open, the door pushed open and a helper walked out and into me.

“Oh my goodness, ma’am, my apologies! I didn’t see you!” the man said, grabbing my arm so I would not slip from his bump. I struggled to find words, panicking that my ruse had been found out. “Wait a minute…aren’t you Miss Aspen? Well, you look like you’ve been in a bit of trouble, huh?”

I still did not speak, trying to think of an excuse. The man saved me from answering by talking again: “I don’t think you wanted me to find you, am I right?” I nodded to that. “Don’t worry about that then. I’m Francis by the way, part time gardener and nurse.”

He gently took my hand and led me inside, shutting the door behind him. “Oh dear, you look so frozen. Your lips are blue! How on earth did you end up like this?” he asked me, walking in a circle around me, lifting my arms.

“I..I don’t really know how I got so dirty. I borrowed the clothes from one of the prisoners. Or, well, more of stole them, I suppose,” I trusted that since he would not tell anyone that I was outside, surely he deserved to know the truth of how I got myself into this tangle. “Odin hasn’t let me go into the backyard for some time, and I wanted to see my garden but…”

“…but it’s not there anymore, am I right? I’m so sorry for your loss. I heard how much you loved those flowers,” Francis finished for me after I trailed off, leaning against a drying machine a couple feet away.

“Yeah. Did you know about the children too?”

Now Francis looked downtrodden. “Of course. My two kids are up there.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea Odin had gotten this bad. I’m going to fix it right-”

“Now, now, it’s ok! This isn’t your fault! There’s nothing you could have done, Aspen, and none of us blame you for this situation, so please don’t blame yourself,” Francis spoke softly and slowly, reassuring me. “Presently, I believe we should worry more about you, hm? I do think there is a large search ensuing for you, and I don’t think you want to be found in this state?”

I nodded, grateful for this man’s kindness. How will I ever repay all the kindness debts I owe to people?

“Ok, I don’t see any extra clothes lying around, but here-” he bent over and grabbed a towel straight from a washing machine, “- I’ll face the wall and you toss me your clothes and use this towel to cover yourself, alright?” He did as he said he would, and I quickly stripped and wrapped the towel around me, still slightly damp. “You know the servants’ passages, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Use those. Which prisoner did you get these from?”

“I got them from Adonis. Thank you so much, Francis,” I smiled at him, the two simple words not conveying the depth of my gratitude.

“Of course, Miss. Call me if you ever need help again, alright?” he said cheerily, throwing the soiled cloth in a machine and prepping to go back into the house, sliding off the clunky snow boots he wore.

“Wait, weren’t you going to go outside?”

“Ah, that can wait. Right now, I’m going to go inform someone that I believe I just saw Miss Fauna dashing to the second basement.”

“You are a saint, Francis, truly,” I wished I could hug him, but it would be hard to do so without dashing what little modesty he had spared with the towel.

“Now get out of here! Go hide somewhere!”

I thanked him one more time, then whipped behind the hanging fabric concealing the tunnels, and dove into the darkness. This time, instead of going from Adonis’ room to the laundry room, I set my course from the laundry room to my bedroom. If I make it in time, I can probably just slip into the room with none the wiser. Oooh, and I think one of these branches leads straight into the back of Odin’s walk-in closet!

I still sniffled from the cold, my arms and legs still ached with it, but I flew through the dark wooden shafts, ignoring the throbbing pain. In ten minutes, I had climbed all the stairs to the top and was near the exit to Odin’s closet. I slowed as I reached the opening, seeing thin bars of light, listening if there was anyone on the other side. It was completely still, so I guessed that Francis’ ruse had worked and that the party was searching through the basement, many floors below me. I dashed to my closet, threw on a cozy hoodie and fluffy socks that were my size, then puzzled how soon I could get Odin up here, hopefully minimizing the amount that his frustration could grow to.

Oh, well, should be pretty easy. Just gotta walk in front of a security camera. I walked back through his closet and followed a path to just outside our room, removing a thin fake panel of wall that hid the passageway. I replaced it, then casually loped in front of the camera placed above our doorway. Odin believed it was a hidden camera, but I had known about it for years.

Then, I sat at my computer, playing games, waiting for the devil to arrive on my doorstep.