Her back was bruised from the hard swats of wood over cloth. At least he hadn't used the whip, but one of his guard's arrows, the hard point of the tip sometimes digging into her back. He'd been angry with her. She was slow, weak, refusing to learn at the impossible pace he set. He wanted too much of her, and he was losing his mind at such an increase pace, Kathenna wasn't certain she could endure it much longer. It had been nine months since her lover's last letter, and she didn't think he knew of the child she'd endured and lost. She wanted to be in his arms when she told him of that tragedy. He'd assured her that he would write, that he'd let her know as soon as he was able to, what he was enduring. She fretted over him, feared the worst more as time endured. His silence agitated her to the point that she wasn't sure she could endure another day.
As tears slipped down her pale cheeks, she cautiously hobbled over to the slender stone table tucked in the corner of the tiny room. There, beneath the edge of the table, was a stone that had worked loose some years before. He had shown her when he'd found it by chance, and they had crept love letters to each other by use of this crevice. This is where she'd stored his letters this whole while, and kept those that she'd written to him until they could be delivered. Since his last letter, she had written over thirty to be given over. The old herder had assured her that he sent the letters off safely, but he never heard anything in return. He was certain the letters were getting to her lover, however.Â
After today, however, Kathenna had her doubts. She kept as quiet as she possibly could as she wrote, huddled in the corner of the room with only a candle to light the paper.
My love, my only, M-
I cannot endure this any more. I have heard nothing from you in some time, and I fear your loss. I know you said that it would be some time before another letter would be sent, but I'd hoped to have heard something before now. Where are you? What has happened? Are you dead? Have you abandoned me? My heart tells me no, that you are safe out there and patiently waiting to bring me home, as you promised. Something tells me that you are at the side of your general, protecting him, and both of you have colluded the best way to bring me to you. If this is so, perhaps I'll meet your letter in route. I have decided that I will make my way to you. I intend to steal as much gil as is possible, and I'll travel as you did. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, I'll be with you in a month's time. Maybe two. Whatever it takes, I will be with you again, my love.
     Until then, be safe, my darling.
     My heart is with you.
    Â
Though she couldn't know it, that very moment was the creation of the Calamity. That very moment, in a blink, her mind was cleared of every memory. Each kiss, each touch of his hand, the way he would sweep her hair from her eyes, and how rough those fingertips were. How she'd come to love how he'd stroke the birth mark on her cheekbone and call it his special kissing spot. How low his voice would get when sleepy, or how he'd laugh deep from his belly when pleased. Memories gone in a blink as she held her quill aloft.Â
A spot of ink dripped from it onto the bottom of the page. Tears were wiped away, though now she couldn't understand their purpose. She stared at the paper, read what she'd written in deep confusion, then set it aside. Why had she written that? Who was she writing? Twice more, in the night, she left her bed to creep back to read the letter. Though it hurt immensely, she kept huddled against that table, finding the love letters to read. They were to her, they had to have been. Or had they been to someone else whose name began with K? But then why was she writing back? Why had she wept and begged this stranger for information? Why had she feared their death?
As the sun rose up on a new day, she finally folded the letter to put it aside with the others, all decision to leave her master gone. That pleading ache in her heart to be with the man she loved was now replaced with a desperation and fear of the man who she served as courier and torturer. Thoughts of leaving would not enter her head for another five years.
As tears slipped down her pale cheeks, she cautiously hobbled over to the slender stone table tucked in the corner of the tiny room. There, beneath the edge of the table, was a stone that had worked loose some years before. He had shown her when he'd found it by chance, and they had crept love letters to each other by use of this crevice. This is where she'd stored his letters this whole while, and kept those that she'd written to him until they could be delivered. Since his last letter, she had written over thirty to be given over. The old herder had assured her that he sent the letters off safely, but he never heard anything in return. He was certain the letters were getting to her lover, however.Â
After today, however, Kathenna had her doubts. She kept as quiet as she possibly could as she wrote, huddled in the corner of the room with only a candle to light the paper.
My love, my only, M-
I cannot endure this any more. I have heard nothing from you in some time, and I fear your loss. I know you said that it would be some time before another letter would be sent, but I'd hoped to have heard something before now. Where are you? What has happened? Are you dead? Have you abandoned me? My heart tells me no, that you are safe out there and patiently waiting to bring me home, as you promised. Something tells me that you are at the side of your general, protecting him, and both of you have colluded the best way to bring me to you. If this is so, perhaps I'll meet your letter in route. I have decided that I will make my way to you. I intend to steal as much gil as is possible, and I'll travel as you did. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, I'll be with you in a month's time. Maybe two. Whatever it takes, I will be with you again, my love.
     Until then, be safe, my darling.
     My heart is with you.
    Â
Though she couldn't know it, that very moment was the creation of the Calamity. That very moment, in a blink, her mind was cleared of every memory. Each kiss, each touch of his hand, the way he would sweep her hair from her eyes, and how rough those fingertips were. How she'd come to love how he'd stroke the birth mark on her cheekbone and call it his special kissing spot. How low his voice would get when sleepy, or how he'd laugh deep from his belly when pleased. Memories gone in a blink as she held her quill aloft.Â
A spot of ink dripped from it onto the bottom of the page. Tears were wiped away, though now she couldn't understand their purpose. She stared at the paper, read what she'd written in deep confusion, then set it aside. Why had she written that? Who was she writing? Twice more, in the night, she left her bed to creep back to read the letter. Though it hurt immensely, she kept huddled against that table, finding the love letters to read. They were to her, they had to have been. Or had they been to someone else whose name began with K? But then why was she writing back? Why had she wept and begged this stranger for information? Why had she feared their death?
As the sun rose up on a new day, she finally folded the letter to put it aside with the others, all decision to leave her master gone. That pleading ache in her heart to be with the man she loved was now replaced with a desperation and fear of the man who she served as courier and torturer. Thoughts of leaving would not enter her head for another five years.