Page 4 of The Heartless Archer

Noora tried to overcome her disgust of the place and began to climb the pipes along the house before she got to the second story where one window sat slightly ajar.

She would need to prop her foot onto the little roof of the window below before she could get a grip on the window sill. The fact that she did this almost every night didn’t diminish the little spark of fear that jumped inside her as she leaped.

Her feet found ground on the roof below as her fingers caught ahold of the sill.

With ease, she pulled herself up and into the room. She could already hear the matron’s steps on the stairs in the hall as she got rid of her boots and slipped beneath the covers of her bed. She prayed upon the heavens that she didn’t drag any mud along her comforter, not again.

Turning to her side she met two glittering turquoises staring back at her.

Lulva’ina, or as she called the girl Lulva, was already awake, a smug smile spreading her lips.

Noora’s eyes glinted with mischief as she lifted a finger to her mouth before the door to the room burst open.

“Wake up, ladies. It is time to face the day!” A simultaneous groan erupted in the shared sleeping chamber. Elise, a servant in the orphanage made haste in opening the curtains, the daylight spilling into the room. A total of thirty-seven girls blinked around sleepily, some yawning as they threw their gray comforters off their bodies.

“Up, Up, there is a lot to do today. Ingrid, Eva, and Salma, you cover the kitchen duties today,” Elise told the three young girls who quickly swapped their nightgowns with the usual uniforms of the house. Grey skirts, reaching past the knees, the same colour as the long socks. A beige, once-white,blouse tucked neatly into the skirt. Working in the kitchen they naturally put up their hair or else the matron would’ve whipped them for their behavior.

The three girls scrambled out of the room while Noora hastily pushed her muddy boots under her bed when Elise threw the curtains open at the window beside her bed.

“Well, you certainly don’t look well rested.” Her green eyes rounded in concern. Elise was barely any older than Noora, she thought her to be in her early twenties. “Bad dream,” Noora murmured.

“I’ll make certain that you receive some herbal tea for breakfast then.” Noora barely nodded as she slipped out of her night clothes and into the hideous uniform.

She could feel Lulva’s eyes on her. “Were you with him last night? Again?” The ten-year-old girl tried herself at a whisper. Noora avoided her gaze as she nodded. “What do you do all night?” The younger girl’s eyes sparkled curiously as she pushed the blouse into her skirt.

Finished with her uniform Noora sighed and bent down in front of the girl. “Someone seems to be awfully curious this morning,” she tutted Lulva as she expertly pushed the blouse into the skirt. “You leave every night, for hours and when you come back your hair is all scraggly and your lips bruised as if you got punched.”

A flush spread over Noora’s cheeks as she told the younger girl to turn around so she could braid the red locks of her hair. “It is nothing a ten-year-old girl has to know about.”

Lulva’s hair was always soft and delicate, a beautiful contrast to her brown skin.

The girl huffed. “But I want to know.”

“We don’t always get what we want, Freckles, now put your shoes on before we’re late for breakfast.”

Her hands were wrinkly and soft when she pulled them out of the soapy water. Bubbles gathered around the fabric of the blouse the water turning a mushy brown. She let the fabric sink against the washboard for a moment, swiping away the strands sticking to her forehead. Her onyx eyes gathered the many blouses she still had to wash, the mountain seeming not to turn any smaller.

The girl beside her was humming a tune as she plucked up the wet blouses and hung them up on the rail attached to the window of the basement. A cold winter breeze travelled into the washing chamber, making goosebumps litter her arms. Lulva continued her tune as Noora focused on scrubbing the blouses.

Mondays were appointed for the washing as the orphanage went to mass on Sundays in their best clothes.

“I wonder if a boy will like me someday,” Lulva told her, her blue eyes round in wonder. “Pray that he doesn’t, men are nothing but work.”

Her brows knitted together in confusion. “But you are in love with one.”

“Sadly, I am, yes.” Her back began to ache from sitting in the same old squeaky chair for hours. “Noora.” She looked towards Lulva. “Yes?”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

A surprised chuckle passed her lips while Lulva’s face changed into a mask of fear. “One day you will leave me for him, won’t you?” The younger girl’s face contorted as if in pain. In a flash Noora pulled her towards her, brushing a red strand out of her face that went astray.

“Since the moment you stood on the steps of the orphanage four years ago, I’ve been devoted to no one else butyou. It is us forever, Freckles.” She held up her pinky finger, and Lulva quickly wound hers around. Their skin set them apart in many ways but they could not hide the truth. Even if these girls were from different continents the scars they wore were yet the same.

Heavy footsteps sounded at that moment and Noora recognised them immediately. Trying to act as if nothing was at risk she pushed Lulva back to her place to the wet blouse just when the matron walked in.

The matron was an imposing woman. Dressed in a gown so big, Noora swore three people would fit under that skirt. It was made out of wool, coloured in a midnight blue. The collar came up to her long slender neck almost going past her pointed chin. Noora had wondered many times how the woman was able to breathe. With a back ramrod straight, features as stern as the way her greying hair was pulled back, she eyed them both. Her hands were drawn behind her back but Noora could see it in the slight tick of her left eye.

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