MINMEI SAKURA's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

MinMei Sakura had run since dark, and she still wore the silk ribbons her mother tied in her hair that morning. She had traded her fine robes for a farm boy's tunic and trousers. But she could not part with the ribbons. They marked her as a magistrate's daughter, a girl meant for marriage, not for the books and brushes she had stuffed under her arm before she climbed the wall. Somewhere behind her, men carried lanterns and called her name. Her legs shook. She could not stop in the open road. If she sat to rest, the lantern men would find her by morning. Every field lay flat and bare. She needed cover, and she needed it now. Then she saw the tree. It rose alone at the edge of a slope, huge and old, its trunk twisted with age. A canopy of pale blossoms spread wide above her. The branches hung so low they nearly touched the ground. MinMei pushed through them and found darkness and shelter inside. Someone had lived here. Beneath the tree stood a rough shelter of bound branches, roofed with scraps of colored cloth. Blossoms had been tucked into the joints. Beside it sat a small handcart. Books were roped to it in neat stacks, and rolled maps stuck out between them. A donkey dozed in a harness nearby. A young man stepped from behind the cart. He held a half-carved walking stick and a small knife. Sawdust clung to his apron and his boots. He did not shout. He did not raise the knife. He only looked at the books under her arm, then at the ribbons in her hair. "You're carrying more paper than food," he said. His voice was low and shy. "That's a strange choice for a runaway." MinMei clutched the books tighter. "They're mine. I copied half of them myself. I won't leave them." He studied her a moment longer. Lantern light flickered far off through the blossoms. He saw it too. He set down his knife and pointed to the shelter. "Get under the roof. The cloth breaks up your shape. Don't move when they pass." She crawled in beside the cart. He crouched at the tree's edge and went still. The lanterns came close. Voices asked a farmer if he'd seen a girl. MinMei pressed her books to her chest and held her breath. The lights swung, paused, then moved on down the road. The voices faded. When the field was dark again, the young man let out a slow breath. "They'll come back at first light," he said. "They always search the roads twice." "Orin Cedarcreek," he added, before she could ask. He nodded at his cart of books. "I move often. You could move with me. But that donkey's slow, and by dawn this tree won't be far enough." MinMei looked at the loaded cart, then at the ribbons she still would not cut. She had found shelter. Now she had to decide whether to trust the one man who'd offered it.