The Wharf

Karli tucked her knees into her chest, her gaze locked on the horizon.

It had been weeks since her father had set sail. She remembered that cold, gauzy morning like it had just been yesterday, the way the wind had nearly blown off her wool cap. The way her father had looked at her before stepping below deck. When Karli left him that morning, she’d noticed for the first time how gray his hair was, how stooped his shoulders were becoming.

Her father was a researcher of sorts, and he and his team were meant to go off to the cluster of islands south of the Wharf. It was a week's journey at most, and he only meant to be there a few days. But he was still gone, and Karli was here, alone.

The sound of boots pushing through the weeds made her look up.

Alder was striding towards her through the winter grasses, his hands tucked deep in the wells of his pockets.

Without saying a word, he settled onto the ground beside her.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and tried to focus on her breath.

The winter had only grown colder since her father’s departure, and it was wearing her thin.

“Basset sold two of the mares today,” said Alder, breaking the silence.

Karli drew back so she could look him in the eyes. “Why?”

Reverend Basset was one of the meanest, oldest men in the south country, known not for his preaching but rather his supernatural-like business skills. Besides, the Wharf was a godless town. People lived there for only one of two reasons: to sail or to breed horses.

Alder and Karli both worked for Basset, though Karli had been showing up less and less for work as she waited for her father.

Next to her, Alder used his thumbnail to scrape a bit of mud off his boots. “He said they’d stopped giving him foals worth selling. Of course, he told the buyer they were the best of the bitches.”

Karli closed her eyes. “Which ones?”

“Summerbit and Dozey.”

A gust of wind ripped at Karli’s auburn hair and she pulled her coat more tightly around herself. She tried not to let her heart grow heavy at the loss of the mares. Summerbit was a piebald growing older in years; she had never been particularly nice, either. Dozey on the other hand.

Well, that one hurt a bit more. Dozey was a sweet bay, the most gentle of Basset’s animals. Karli would miss her.

Alder pulled a package from his pocket and handed it to her. Karli unwrapped the parchment to reveal a still-warm sticky bun.

“What’s this?” she asked.

Alder scratched his ear to hide his blush. “I stopped by the bakery. Thought you could use something warm for up here.”

Karli smiled and inhaled the sweet smell of yeast before it was snatched away by the wind. “Thank you,” she murmured.

They fell into silence. Alder pressed close to her, his body warmth a comfort.

The sky was turning a deeper shade of gray, and the sea was striving to match it. Most of the ships would be in for the day, what with the threat of snow hanging over them.

Karli thought back to when she was little, when she would come up here to sit and watch the fishing boats as they came and went. If she turned around to face the land, she would see the beginnings of long white fences dotting the surrounding pastures. She had never been to a place that was such a crossing point, where the land and sea met with such ferocity and abandon.

It made it easier to breathe, being out here on this hill.

“Karli,” Alder said, breaking her from her thoughts. “Basset wants you back at work.”

Her stomach sank. “He doesn’t need me.”

“Not true.”

And she knew he was right.

Karli was one of the few trainers that was able to break the wild horses that roamed the lands near the Wharf. Without her, Basset wouldn’t be able to train as many horses. His profits would drop.

A coarse, mean kind of glee passed through her. She would love to be part of Basset’s downfall.

Alder took her mittened hand in his gloved one. “Come back, Karli. Please.”

She recoiled. “I’m not going back to work for that man.”

“He’s not so bad.”

Karli felt like a dam was breaking inside of her. Tears pricked her eyes. “Is that why you came up here? To get me to come back to work?”

“No.”

But she couldn’t hear him over the pain that was streaking through her veins. She had never felt so alone.

“Karli, no. I came for you. I came because I care.”

She was crying now, the tears turning icy as they fell onto her cheeks. Everything was unraveling.

A moment later she was being enveloped in a hug, Alder’s strong frame around her. “I’m here,” he whispered, “I won’t leave.”

She sobbed into his coat as the wind howled against the hilltop, the sound of it shrouding her cries. Of course she wanted to believe him, but who could control the whims of men?

As soon as the wind died down and Karli’s breath was even again, she looked up at Alder’s face. His black hair was sticking out from under his wool hat, and there were wet marks on the shoulder of his coat from where she had been crying.

He was solid. And he was here.

“I would never do Basset’s dirty work for him, you know that, right?” asked Alder.

Karli thought of the old man sitting in his huge farmhouse, watching as the piles of money grew off the backs of workers like her.

“I know that,” she said. “But I can’t go back to work for him.”

Alder dipped his head and opened his mouth to speak when a look of surprise crossed his face.

Karli turned to face the water.

Through the shroud of imminent snowfall, she could just make out the outline of a ship on the horizon.

Alder began to speak. “There’s no way to be sure—”

But Karli was already running down the hill, her wool cap clutched in her trembling hands.