Captive{ated}

Twenty-Eight: Wildest Dream

Have you ever heard the saying 'days are long, but the years are short'? I never truly understood the pure honesty of that phrase until my time in the Village. Though it's not years that passed by quick, it was months.

After you brought Joy home, things between us were... better. No longer did I spend ridiculously long days in the schoolhouse to avoid you nor did I turn down a good dinner for the sake of my pride. I returned to sharing a bed with you, and though we didn't do much beyond that for some time yet, you were content.

We tried to make the most of our time before winter came once again. With the leaves starting to turn colors and the weather becoming progressively chillier, I knew there wasn't much left though I didn't know the date. We would still sometimes sit by the lake until it became too cold to bear or go for walks beside the fence until my body trembled from the freezing temperatures.

Of course, the first frost accompanied this weather as well. I joined you in harvesting the last of your vegetables, Joy running circles around us. I was there more for moral support and a set of arms than to actually help. We had already established that being around a garden was the last place for me. "We are you picking the green tomatoes?" I asked.

"I'm worried it'll frost tonight. The weather is quickly taking a turn for the worst," you told me.

"Yes, I figured that, but why even the green tomatoes?"

"You can still eat them," you shrugged.

"Eat them?" I made a face.

"You've never had a fried green tomato before, have you?" You laughed.

"It sounds awful."

Grinning mischievously, you said, "I guess I know what we are having for dinner tonight."

"I would rather eat the plain bran cereal," I scoffed.

"No," you chuckled not meeting my gaze, "You're only stubborn enough to do that when you're mad at me."

I felt my face heat up. You weren't wrong.

It was then you looked up and really smiled at me, sweat glistening from your forehead though I was shaking. "Trust me," you said, a much harder request than you may had realized, "you'll like them."

That evening, after a lot of coaxing and prodding, you finally convinced me to try a single green tomato, and you weren't wrong. I really did like them. It turned out that I could trust you on one thing.

It wasn't long before snow blanketed the ground in a thick layer. From the whispers I heard around the Village, the snow came in early with a vendetta. The harvest wasn't yet complete when the first frost swiftly and silently killed the remaining crops. You were teaching me how to can the rest of our vegetables when I asked, "How bad was the harvest this year?"

You shrugged, clearly uncomfortable by my question. "We still have enough to get by. I don't want you to worry."

I thought of all the children, concern flowing through me as if they were my own. "Everyone has enough?" I questioned.

"Yes," you confirmed. You smiled softly, but it didn't quite reach your eyes, "The Gods are just testing us, that's all."

Even you had trouble believing the lie your father was preaching, which made me wonder, did everyone else take his words to heart? If your Gods supposedly protected you in exchange for a human life each new moon, why test your loyalty at all? We finished canning in a tense silence.

Though you knew I didn't believe you, what more was to be said?

Afterward, as I sat on the couch staring outside with Joy resting her head on my lap, a heavy thought occurred to me out of the blue. "We've been married for a year, haven't we?"