The wooden boards of the oversized wagons creak under the weight of the heavy anvil, hammers, and their entire lives packed into crates. The cold breeze of the early morning provides temporary relief to William as he secures the crates with hemp ropes to keep them from shifting during the journey.
He turns to see Rob and the other villagers doing the same. Behind them, the lanes and houses of the village remain empty and cold, entirely devoid of warmth.
The last two days for William have been filled with thick, suffocating silence. Ever since Uncle Rob delivered the news, William and Aunt Gretchen haven’t exchanged more than a handful of necessary words. Looking at the deep sorrow in her eyes, William simply couldn't gather the courage to say anything at all.
‘So this is it’, William thinks as he gazes at Ashbrook for the last time. ‘A village filled with the lives of more than two hundred people, with a history older than two hundred years, ends today’.
But his thoughts are cut short as a loud voice reaches his ears.
“Secure the crates in the front too!” John calls out, checking the mule’s harness.
William nods, pulling the hemp cord taut and tying it off. He climbs up onto the hard wooden bench of the wagon, sandwiching himself between John and his cousin Matt. He turns his head to look at Gretchen, Emma, and Craig climbing into the other wagon, with a sharp knot of guilt tightening in his stomach.
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“Let’s move!” a loud shout echoes from one of the lead wagons.
The wagon jolts violently, snapping William's attention forward as the wooden wheels grind into motion. One by one, the line of wagons rolls out of Ashbrook and onto the old road, stretching so far ahead that he can barely see its front. Some families are bound for Arindale, hoping to build new lives within its walls. Others, like Rob's, still have another day's journey ahead before they reach their destination.
During the whole journey, the atmosphere in the wagon remains tense. No one talks. The only sound accompanying them is the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the heavy creaking of old wood. They stop multiple times along the way to give a little rest and water to the mules. As a result, the journey, which would normally take about six hours, stretches to more than ten.
By the time the massive stone walls of Arindale finally break through the distant treeline, the sun is nearing the end of its own journey for the day, dipping low and spreading its last warm rays across the land.
The process of registering and paying the toll at the city gates takes more than half an hour, as most of the villagers have never set foot inside a city before. Some crane their necks to stare up at the towering stone walls, while others fall silent, taking in the bustling streets beyond the gates. Beside him, Matt twists around on the bench, trying to take in everything at once, his mouth hanging slightly open. William catches the look on his cousin's face and can't help smiling in amusement.
However, his grin soon vanishes at the sound of heavy footsteps behind him.
“Where does that stranger who offered you a job live?”
He turns and sees the ice-cold expression on his aunt's face—a face that is always filled with warmth. Before any words can leave William's throat, Rob interrupts their conversation.
“Gretchen, this is not the time,” Rob says, gesturing toward the rest of the group. “Who knows if that guy is even still at his lodgings? And look—the kids are exhausted from this long journey.”
Gretchen gives a quiet nod of agreement. She fixes her eyes back on William. “We will go there first thing in the morning.”
She turns to leave. Rob and Matt follow closely behind her, both offering William a sympathetic look before they disappear into the crowd.