Prologue {#prologue .prolog .unnumbered}
Heddra trudged through the deep snow. The sky had one of those wondrous gray-reddish hues that seem to be dark, but still glow. You couldn’t see any individual clouds, it was more like a single diffuse layer of clouds, not sure when it was no longer a cloud layer, but sky. For every step, she had to heave one of her legs, almost knee-deep in the bright snow, out of the cold, damp snow mass and lower it down again through the frozen layer in front of her. There was a breaking crunch and then the familiar creaking sound when snow is compressed. It was tedious and beautiful.
The child on her back wasn’t quite as fond of that journey. They was now two weeks old, and had complained enough about wandering around during that time. Very closely to Heddra’s ear. Very loudly. And Heddra, who liked it quiet, had decided after only a few days that raising a child would stress her out too much. It was probably even better for the child if she didn’t. She did not consider herself particularly suitable for raising a child. She traveled a lot, liked adventure and solitude. Only occasionally did she want to visit someone, but most of the time she preferred to be alone.
The father would certainly be much better suited for this task. He was a sensitive, warm-hearted man who could just let you be. One of the very few that Heddra liked to have around for some time. He did not expect any regularities and no minimum stays. He didn’t make any cynical remarks, such as “Oh, you’re here again.” When she came, she came, and he was glad about it, and when she had to leave because the soles of her feet itched, that was always fine.
Heddra loved him and smiled at the thought.
It had to be here somewhere, she thought. It was a beautiful mountain range that she had always crossed to reach the village where the child’s father lived. She had a very strong sense of direction and found every path again, even if she had climbed or hiked it just once. This time, however, she took a slightly different path. Until now, she had used much steeper passages. But she wanted to avoid such a climb for the child and took a less dangerous route instead. However, it would have been much more pleasant and easier otherwise. There was less snow on the steep slopes.
Dusk was falling and violet light gleamed on the horizon above the snow-covered fir trees, whose branches hung heavily as if they were tired. A romantic scenery. Heddra stopped to admire. It wasn’t snowing, and that brought the child to a more accepting mood.
When she reached the top of the next hill on the edge of the mountains, she finally saw it. A village, maybe a few more than 40 houses, a wide stream or narrow river that meandered through it, a small, wooden bridge that bent over it. A really beautiful bridge made of dark wood, with an ornate railing, even planks, beautifully turned pillars. The village bore the appropriate name Byrglingen and the stream that babbled along was the Glukka.
When Heddra finally entered the village, it was well past midnight. The lights were extinguished, nothing moved. It was pleasantly quiet. Heddra walked along the main road and then turned into the Garden Path. She walked as quietly as she could, so as not to break the silence. The last house in the street had a garden enclosed in a beautiful wooden fence. It was made in the same style as the bridge that led over the Glukka. The gate was dark and reliefs of animals were incorporated. Heddra particularly liked the detailed dragon. She had only seen a real one from a distance and that was years ago. She stroked it with her fingers.
The wood glistened from staining and therefore smelled good. This smell ran through the whole estate and Heddra loved it. That was one of the reasons why she came here ever so often. And also because the man who lived here had a sense for such things. He was calm and patient and friendly. He embraced her strange peculiarities and was silent when she needed it quiet. In summer, the garden was full of fragrant plants, flowers above all, but also herbs.
Heddra knocked on the front door and it seemed to her as if she was destroying some of the magic that lay on this estate. To make matters worse, noone even reacted. After a few minutes, before the spell could crawl back, Heddra knocked again, this time vigorously. It took a while for footsteps to approach the door and for it to be opened. And Vadime stood in the doorway. He reached Heddra to her waist and tilted his head back to look her in the face.
“Heddra!” he said in his deep, soft voice, “Come in!”
He held the door open for her, a nicely crafted wooden door, of course, and Heddra bent under the door frame into the workshop. It was comfortably warm in here. The walls insulated well. A warm, orange glow illuminated the room from one wall just enough to show the outlines of the workbenches and chairs and to orientate oneself. With a gesture, Vadime turned up the brightness a little so that Heddra could see his face better. Nevertheless, there was not much to see of that face. Above his dark eyes were bushy, brown eyebrows, and his forehead revealed that he had firm, reddish-brown skin. The rest of his face was hairy. His brown full beard, however, did not consist of such firm hair as many others, but was immensely soft. Heddra stretched out her hands questioningly and Vadime put them on his cheeks, finishing the movement she had begun. Heddra stroked it, threaded her fingers tenderly into the beard hair and touched the skin underneath. The beard was well groomed and just felt wonderful on her skin. Vadime grabbed her wrists, not as to pull her hands away. His firm hands were warm and stroked the heels of her hands and forearms.
They stood there for a while, without speaking, until the child on Heddra’s back made itself noticed by whimpering. Heddra a bit regretfully desisted from their exchange of caresses and untied the child from her back. She gave it to Vadime, who immediately dandled them and looked at them caringly. Heddra rummaged in one of her pockets, fished out a crumpled piece of paper, smoothed it out, and placed it on the child’s stomach in Vadime’s arms. ‘Myrie’ was written on it. “Myrie,” Vadime murmured softly, but Heddra shook her head.
“The ‘y’ is like in lyrics. And it’s not a long i. The name has three syllables, not two. Unlike your name, the e is not silent.”
“Myri-a?” asked Vadime.
Heddra nodded. In case he hadn’t understood it right away, she had thought of comparing it to the word aria, but was glad she didn’t need to.
“You are the father,” Heddra said timidly, “Will you raise the child?”
Vadime smiled immediately. “Of course!” he said. He blissfully hugged the child a little more and it was clear to see that he was happy. Heddra was happy too. She had already suspected that it would go that way. That he would keep the child. But she hadn’t necessarily expected him to be so happy about it. He was already raising three other children, and that was certainly a burden. But it was better this way. And Heddra felt confirmed in her assumption that her child would certainly have a better life here than with her.
She turned and walked towards the door.
“I always like when you come over!” said Vadime. He made no attempt to stop her, but it sounded different than it usually sounded when he said goodbye to her. And Heddra realized that he had once again assessed her better than she had done herself. She wouldn’t be back anytime soon. She was afraid that her own child would not like her, or would be angry with her for leaving her alone. As silly as these fears might be, Heddra already felt them. She turned around again and kissed Myrie and Vadime on ther foreheads for a last time, gently and carefully. Full of love. Then she stroked Vadime from his temple over his cheek to his chin, carefully twirling a strand of his beard around her fingers. She was no longer alone with her love for the beard. The child had long since stretched their tiny hands into Vadime’s beard and Vadime had to be careful that they wouldn’t pull on it.
Then she left the house, the garden, the village and disappeared from Myrie and Vadime’s life. It made her sad, but on the other hand she was glad that the child with Vadime and Vadime with the child certainly would have a good togetherness. Vadime never missed people that much and the child probably wouldn’t even remember her, and could hardly miss a person who had never been there. Especially not if they lacked as little as they did with Vadime.