Free Forest of Demons by Debbie Cassidy Page B

room to gather her against her soft bosom. Priya held on to her mother’s diminutive figure, sobbing until her chest ached and her nose clogged up.
    Ma rocked her until the sobs subsided. Grief was replaced by simmering rage. She extricated herself from Ma’s embrace.
    “They killed her, you know. It was the constant beatings, the hard labor. They did this!”
    “Priya! You don’t know that for certain, there were rumors, of course but—”
    “I do know, and so does everyone else, and no one did anything! I didn’t do anything! We all just stood by and allowed it to continue. We’re all responsible for her death, for that poor baby’s death.” She stood and began pacing. “This village is filled with scared little people, people who cling to superstition as a shield of ignorance. They’re happy to take action against something they don’t understand, because it costs them nothing, but they stand by and allow abuse to continue for fear of losing a handful of grain!”
    “Priya, please, calm yourself.”
    Priya shook her off. “I need some air.” She brushed past her into the main room.
    Papa was sitting in his chair by the stove. He looked up, pipe dangling from his lips as she entered.
    “I’m going out.” Priya retrieved her shawl.
    “It’s too late, the sun is setting.” Ma said.
    “I’ll take a lamp. I won’t go far.”
    “Hariji? Tell her!” Ma wrung her hands.
    Papa withdrew his pipe from his mouth and locked eyes with Priya “Don’t stay out too late.”
    Priya inclined her head, grateful for his empathy.
     
    The sky was blood-red with the setting sun, the streets already silent. The village slept early and rose early; nighttime was for the rich and slovenly. She only ever ventured out this late for a festival or special occasion, and she was usually accompanied by Ma, Papa, or both. Tonight was an exception. She had no particular destination in mind, but instead of feeling adrift, she felt liberated. She stopped thinking and allowed her feet to guide her.
    This place she called home suddenly felt tiny. A small-minded village, wrapped in conventions and suffocatingly dull. When she’d been young, every day had felt like an adventure, her imagination conjuring tales for even the most mundane tasks. Every night had been a portal to wondrous dreams. She yearned for that innocence, that sense of walking on air, that sense of safety. The village hadn’t changed she had. Safety now felt like restriction; exciting superstitions and rituals now felt like the excuses and actions of uneducated minds, the actions of people too scared to face reality.
    Every day she saw her parents shrink a little more, need her a little more. And every day her dream of going to the capital drew further away. She feared she’d be stuck in this village for the rest of her days, working, caring for her parents, and watching the lives of others, yet never really living her own. She loved Ma and Papa and would gladly give them her life; after all, they’d saved her, given their lives for her. It wasn’t just her duty to serve them but her will. She just wished that she could realize both her dreams and her obligations.
    The soft whinny of a horse and the smell of smoke awoke her to the fact that her feet had led her to the last place she would have thought to come.
    She stood outside the door, shuffling from foot to foot. She should just turn around and leave, but then she’d spend the rest of the night wondering why her feet had brought her here in the first place.
    Gathering her courage and her patience she knocked loudly on the door.
    It opened almost immediately. Ravi stared down at her. “Was wondering how long you were going to stand out there.” He stepped back, ushering her in.
    She entered the overly warm room. The forge was still burning, but it was clear he’d stopped work for the day. A small table had been laid with a single plate of food and a mug of water.
    Ravi caught her staring. He moved to the