It took three years to break Asha's spirit. Three years of working from dawn to dusk. Three years of spending all day cleaning houses only to come home to a pile of schoolwork. Three years of spending night after night in the forest for it to amount to nothing. Three years of missed birthdays and anniversaries. She had had enough. She was one second away from a mental breakdown at all times. And Asha was tired. So, so tired of it all.

She had finally finished all her schooling, but it was a hollow victory. There was nothing she could do with that education. For a while, Asha was intent on working with Sylvia and becoming a healer, but that meant she wouldn't have time to work on the side for extra coins. Her fate was sealed. This is all she would become. Asha didn't have the time to learn any new skills. If her father were alive, he would have shown her how to be a teacher, and she would have followed in his footsteps. But now, she didn't have enough money saved to dedicate weeks to training.

The headmaster had offered her a small position on the faculty to start out, so she could earn her way to a better role. But it wouldn't pay enough to get her through the winter. She would spend the rest of her life cleaning houses and doing odd jobs around town, but even that wasn't bringing in enough to get her through the toughest months of the year. Over the course of three years, Asha had sold everything in the house. Anything that wouldn't cause her home to fall apart was gone and stripped to the bones. She didn't have anything left to sell and she couldn't bring in enough income in the next few months to get her through the winter.

She had cried for two days when she had to sell her father's clothes. Sometimes she would see the man who bought them walking around their village and her heart would skip a beat. She would recognize his shirt and for a split second, forget what had happened. For just a moment in time, Asha would see her father in front of her as if nothing had happened. But just like that, it was gone. Reality hit her like a pile of bricks, and she would be knocked to the floor with grief.

Asha was tired. She was tired of working all day for nothing. Tired of feeling like she was stuck in quicksand. Because no matter how hard she worked, no matter how much she struggled, Asha was stuck in the same place. There was no getting out. There was no end in sight.

She was doing the laundry for some seamstresses one night. They would give her one or two coins for a few hours of work and sometimes give her scraps of clothing she could sew into a blanket. They were nice enough to her but horrible gossips. One of the older seamstresses, Cora, had just come back from the town.

"Did you hear that the kingdom is mandating a stricter tax on its citizens?" she asked her little group. Six women sat in a circle working on their individual projects while Asha sat in the corner, her hands buried in soap and water, scrubbing at the fabric until her fingers were raw.

"No way. This is the third tax in three months. They're going to bleed their citizens dry."

"Honestly, this is why we don't live in that shabby little place."

Asha couldn't take much more of their gossip. They went into the nearest town to get supplies and stories because they're lives were so dull, they had nothing better to do. Asha didn't hate the old crones that whispered about everyone else's business around town. She pitied them. They're lives revolved around others. It was like they needed a reason to keep living.

Asha finished with her load of laundry and started pulling off the dried pieces from the clothesline. The chatter of the women behind her was like background noise.

"I mean the situation has gotten so bad, there are more people going to The Trader than I've ever seen."

"Ruthy, you have to keep in mind that people aren't as lucky as us. They don't have husbands to take care of the finances. Some women will do anything to make a few coins." Asha's ears perked up at that.

"But The Trader can't be trusted. He probably sells these women to the highest bidder and they're never seen again," Ruth said.

Asha set down a pile of clothes for the women to tailor in the middle of their circle and collected the finished ones for her to wash. "Who's the Trader?" Asha asked as nonchalantly as she could.

"He's this man in the town who sells people to anyone willing to pay for labor. He claims that at the end of your contract, he'll give you enough money so you never have to work again," Ruth rolled her eyes. "But I say it's a bunch of hooey."

"You don't know that Ruthy. I've seen good people go into his office. If he was really dangerous, don't you think the King would have shut it down? Besides, he has an office right on the side of the town square. It's impossible to miss," Cora said. "They say The Trader gives you money based on how many years of work you can provide, what kind of work you do, and where you're placed. After your contract, he gives you a big pile of money."

This could be her way out. Her escape.

"What kind of jobs does he send people on?" Asha asked. She would finish her work in less than an hour. She needed to know as much about this Trader as possible.

"We don't know exactly. But people say that it can be anything from being a maid to a miner. And he only gives you the money if you survive your servitude," Ruth said nonchalantly. "I think he just takes advantage of people when they're vulnerable and sends them to work in the whorehouse."

Cora rolled her eyes at Ruth. "There is nothing to suggest that he's evil. He's probably just a man running a business. People get desperate and I commend them for wanting to work for their money instead of begging on the street."

"Okay, I'm all done," Asha said. She wiped her wet hands on her dress. "I'll be back tomorrow to fold up the dry clothes and deliver them to the customers," a chorus of thank you's followed her as she headed home. She didn't look back at them.

The Trader. Ruth made him sound evil. Someone who takes advantage of people who have nowhere else to go. And it could be true. The people that go to him would be desperate and out of options. Probably nobody alive to miss them. But Cora had a point. He wouldn't be setting up shop in the middle of the town if he was afraid of getting caught.

Asha was one of those desperate people. She was tired of living this life. She needed something else. She needed meaning. She woke up every day with her head in a fog. At least with school, she had something to learn, something to look forward to. But now, all she had was doing the same job day after day. And she didn't have the means to survive for much longer. She was down to her last coin. But was she willing to give up her freedom? Was she willing to sell herself to someone she didn't know and risk her life?

Asha opened the door to her cottage and let it shut behind her with a heavy thud. If there was a silver lining to working 20 hours a day, it was crawling into her bed at the end of it. She didn't make any coins that day. The seamstresses would pay her two silver coins after she finished her deliveries tomorrow. It was meager pay, but at least it was something. After she finished her deliveries, she would have three coins total. Not enough to buy her much of anything.

Asha peeled her dress off and rubbed some life into her fingers. The cold air made the fabric stick to her body, and it hurt every time something brushed against her freezing skin. Asha pulled out two pieces of bread as she crawled into bed. There was nothing like the feeling of the weight of her blanket and filling her stomach after a long day. She pulled the blanket around her so it covered her shoulders. She could tell it would start snowing soon, and when it did, she would have a hard time getting into town. And even if she got into town, The Trader might have a hard time finding her a job if they were limited with travel. No, Asha couldn't risk it. There was nothing keeping her here. Nothing she had to look forward to. She might as well take the jump. She had nothing to lose.

Asha resolved to leave tomorrow night. She would have enough time to do her deliveries and reach the town before sunset. She curled into bed, still chewing on her last few bites of bread, and tried not to think of what she was giving up. She told herself that she had no other options left. That she would die if she didn't go. But still, Asha felt a pang in her chest at the thought of leaving her home behind. Leaving everything she knew behind.

She closed her eye, trying to force herself to fall asleep. She tried counting sheep, reciting the most boring lessons from her schoolbooks, and even forcing every thought out of her mind. But the feeling in her stomach wouldn't allow her to sleep. Wouldn't allow her to forget everything that could go wrong. Asha tossed and turned, curled up in a ball, and laid flat. She moved to every corner in her bed, begging the Gods to give her a few moments of rest. But they weren't listening tonight. After a few hours, Asha wanted to scream in frustration.

She sat up in bed and hugged her knees to her chest. Her room hadn't changed in years. She didn't have the money or the time to do anything with it since her father died. It was barely big enough to fit her bed anyways. There were no windows or a closet. But it was hers. Where would her future master put her? A dungeon? A tiny little house she would have to share with all the other slaves? Asha felt panic building in her throat, her breathing becoming heavier, her chest tightening. All she could think about was the worst-case scenario. What if Ruth was right? What if she would be left for dead by an evil master? Her breathing grew heavier and faster as the panic suffocated her. It was like she couldn't get enough air in her lungs. Asha couldn't move, she was paralyzed with fear. No one was there to save her. No one would help her. She was alone. So alone. Images of her father's body flashed in her mind. Images of his final moments filled with fear and regret. Images of him burning on the pyre.

She couldn't breathe. The room was spinning around her. She felt like everything was just slipping through her fingers. As if the world was crumbling beneath her feet and everything was caving in on her. She was strong. She knew she was. But right now, it felt like there was nothing. Nothing to hold on to. Because she was giving up on everything and everyone she knew and loved. But her biggest fear was forgetting her father. He had given her everything, and Asha felt like she was throwing it all away. If she had worked just a little bit harder, maybe she could have kept this place. Maybe she could have stayed in the house she had grown up in. That regret deep in her bones that maybe she didn't want to work harder. That maybe she wanted to leave everything behind for this new life. A life of excitement and adventure. A life of possibilities. A life her father had spent his entire life trying to avoid.

Asha forced her eyes closed, pushing the thoughts and images of her father out of her mind. She pictured her father sitting on the bed in front of her, telling her to breathe. To feel her heart beating in the chest and count each beat. To relax every muscle and slowly push the panic back down her throat. She felt herself calming with each deep breath. Her heart slowed its thunderous pace and her palms weren't slick with sweat. And then Asha felt tired. So, so tired she could fall asleep sitting up. She fell back, letting her head hit the pillow, not bothering to pull her covers up. The panic was still there. She felt it moving in her stomach, ready to strike when she was most vulnerable. But it was at peace for now.

...

Asha woke up the next day feeling different. Just knowing it was her last day here, she felt much more appreciative of her village than she had ever been. Every good deed of her neighbors came to her mind. Asha thought about the kindness of Mia and the headmaster. She thought about how close-knit this community was and how much she would miss the hunters telling their stories to anyone that would listen. But even missing the only home she ever knew wasn't going to hold her back.

When Asha cleaned houses that morning, she put just a little bit more effort into making sure it was spotless, knowing she wouldn't be back. She even started feeling sentimental over the seamstresses' gossip.

"You look happy today," Ruth said. She handed her a pile of folded laundry and a list of names and houses to deliver it to.

Asha shrugged. "I guess I woke up on the right side of the bed," she didn't need to tell them where she was headed. It would spread through the whole town within a matter of minutes.

"Well, here you go," Ruth handed her the two silver coins. "Thanks for your help sweetheart."

Asha finished the deliveries in record time and hurried home. The sun was going to start setting soon and she wanted to be out in town before it got dark. She hurried and started packing for the trip tomorrow. Her father raised her to be a fighter, and she would do almost anything to survive. She grabbed her father's shoulder bag - the only possession she had kept of his - and stuffed it with her last few belongings. A blanket, some clothes, and her last few morsels of food. The brown satchel was stuffed to the brim, but it was a sturdy bag. Her father carried it with him since before she can remember. He used to say that his bag had seen many adventures and it would see many more.

Asha had three outfits left. One plain brown dress, a white shirt and brown pants, and the dress she wore to her father's funeral. Before Asha could regret her decision, she threw on the red and gold dress. It was beautiful, and Asha didn't know when she would have another chance to wear it.