There was a scouting window on the side of her prison cell where the sound ca from. It was a palm-sized opening, but the sight of the sunlight coming down from it was like salvation to her, and its image in her mory was still quite vivid. Seeing those rays of sun felt like a miracle back then, because at that ti she had been too busy cowering in the corner to notice it it was the only thing that prevented her from being completely devoured by darkness.
Gris rembered staring at the light coming in her for two days, while being engrossed in her thoughts of why, just when she wanted to live earnestly all she t was darkness, and why it was only now that she was this close to the light?
She rembered sighing at those thoughts while wetting her chapped lips. During that ti while she wallowed in self-pity, she heard a banging caused by a stone that ca from the wall. One ti, two tis, three tis the knocking continuously ca.
The sound began and continued in regular intervals. Gris grabbed a dust-stained chair and placed it in front of the window and carefully stood on it, wanting to check what was happening outside.
The first thing she felt as soon as she peeked outside was the feeling that her eyes were about to burst from the bright sunlight that attacked her vision. She quickly lowered her head, closing her lids and took so ti to slowly open them, allowing her eyes to adjust gradually at its intensity.
Just as Gris eyes got used to the light, a small stone flew and landed on her forehead. She steadied her dizzy head with her hands and looked outside and spotted a young boy with hair as dark as ebony standing between the trees.
Strangely enough, Gris saw that there were no stones around the place where the boy was standing. Still, she reckoned it was this boy who had been throwing stones at the tower this whole ti.
She watched the boy closely and saw him looking for a suitable stone and when he found one, he moved towards it and picked it up. Gris wondered if he would use it towards her tower and if it would hit her head again. Fearing so, she hurriedly climbed down from her chair and again, huddled up in a corner.
She looked at the many stones that had fallen under the chair, and she thought about why the boy had thrown them. Did he do that because he was a follower of the Taliluchi family? Or was it because her crying was too loud, and he was irritated by her?
As she thought this, Gris could not help but be filled with sadness, and at that ti it was as if the grief she was feeling surged up even more. She had lost the people she loved just a few days ago, and now she found herself just passing ti, waiting for ti to heal her or lead her to death. She wondered if she would die peacefully, but she knew they wouldnt even allow her to die in silence.
The sorrow, anger, and resentnt she had accumulated on her heart from all the misfortunes she experienced rose all the way to her throat and she felt like she was choking. Gris sensed that she would die if she didnt do anything, so she picked up the stones that fell from the window and threw it outside.
It was at that mont that Gris had her first cowardly thought in her life. She thought that he couldnt hurt her because she was hidden in a prison that was like an impregnable fortress which he wouldnt be able to reach, and that was why she could keep throwing rocks at him without fear, she would throw rocks at him until he was scared enough to no longer attack her!
She threw the stones so hard she felt dizzy with each swing of her arm. Gris quickly got worn out due to her already being weak from fatigue and malnutrition. She was not able to eat anything for the days, she was losing strength daily, her body and soul were weak and exhausted.
She did not recall falling asleep, but she must have passed out because when she woke up from her faint like sleep, she was still in that disgusting stone-walled prison. This ti, light no longer filled her cell, but it seed it was dawn again.
Gris curled up in the cold and musty corner again, locked in her thoughts. This was because the anger she had earlier finally subsided, and worry poured in to replace it. What if the boy was hit by one the many stones she threw yesterday? She just didnt want to be blad anymore
She pulled herself up in a standing position and thought that maybe the boy will be around the tower again. Slowly the sun rose and filled her tower with light once more. That is when she saw so strange items under the light that ca from the window. A bread wrapped in a handkerchief, a wooden water canteen, and a bronze statue of a praying saint laid on the ground.
She didnt know who threw those things, but their underlying aning was clear. They wanted and were telling her tolive on. As soon as she realized that, Gris felt tears pooling in her eyes, and like a dam that broke free she began to cry loudly, not in sadness but for relief and gratefulness. And for a long ti, she only cried.
It felt like she was finally beginning to heal. The sadness of loss, deep scars in her body and the trauma she suffered inside her head and even the loneliness that had been buried deep into her bones seem to ease a little by the sight of those objects.
When she looked outside after crying for a long ti, she saw the black-haired boy again. He had a training sword in his hand instead of a stone.
Gris observed that the boy was totally engrossed with his swordsmanship and it looked like he had been training for a while. Then, it seed like that boy thought of sothing and looked up at the tower. When their eyes t, Gris saw the boy reached into his pockets as if looking for sothing.
Finally finding what he was looking for, Gris saw the boy spread his belongings out in his palm and looked at them for a long ti before he began to throw so towards the tower. One by one those things landed in her tower.
Chocolate, gold coins, prayer rosaries The thought that he had thrown out only the best things out of the things he had made the area around her eyes burn with tears.
She didnt know where she was but right now it was dazzlingly beautiful. There werent any flowers or butterflies, but there was a boy who started dancing while handsoly swinging his sword in this place. Here there was sothing precious that grew and blood.
The young Gris back then felt like the sword was akin to a wandering black butterfly, trapped forever in a unfertile land, trying to blossom any kind of flower. Trying to find kindness.
She recalled the beautiful scenery and the fragrant forest sll of that day, and carefully opened her lips to speak.
I like black butterflies. It reminds of soone.
Vianut beside her said nothing.
She glanced at him and saw his eyes just vacantly staring at the butterfly she ntioned, and Gris shook her head in recognition that he of course didnt know about such longing, for he must have never experienced such grief.
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