A Three-Letter Name

By Annie Lisenby

An Indie Author Project winner for best YA fiction book by a Missouri author
A touching YA fantasy for fans of THE GRACE YEAR by Kim Liggett.
Els never wanted to marry. Her calling was to protect her village from the feline beasts that prowl the forest at night, and love had no part in it. But after a fever steals much of her hearing, she is forced to decide between exile and marrying a stranger.
Samuel, Els’ new betrothed, is adjusting after an injury leaves him disabled. Never again will he be the great hunter and leader that his father expects, and after the girl he loves abandons him, he flees his village to escape scrutiny.
Before Els and Samuel can adapt to their life as a married couple, the very beasts that Els fended off spill more innocent blood, sending the village into a panic.
Now, there’s only one choice: hunt the beasts and kill every last one. And do it together. Finding strength in their new disabilities, Els and Samuel must learn to listen with their hearts.
Their home and their lives depend on it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Publishers Group
• Release date: May 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781953539960

Annie Lisenby

A native of the Missouri Ozarks, Annie Lisenby has enjoyed traveling the US and overseas. With an MFA in theatre, Annie has taught and performed professionally and is a member of the Screen Actors’ Guild. As an author, Annie writes freelance for the local magazine. She is a board member of the Missouri Writers’ Guild and active in the Joplin Writers’ Guild. She has won multiple awards in local contests and has been published in the Joplin Writers’ Guild Anthology and in Chicken Soup for the Soul. When not writing, Annie can be found reading and exploring nature with her husband and two children. Her debut YA novel will be released in 2022.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

EL

Marriage or death. Weren’t they the same thing?

From where she sat on a boulder at the edge of the ocean, the wind whipped El’s long, black hair and tickled her nose. She could smell the saltwater spray as it crashed against the shore, could feel the air embrace her skin. And as the spray misted her face, leaving the taste of salt across her lips, she strained to hear the crashing of the waves, the rush of the wind, the cries of the seagulls floating against the gray sky overhead.

When she closed her eyes and really focused, she could hear the sounds, but as though they were coming from across the island. The waves were a whisper, the seagulls a rusty hinge on a distant gate. She had never admitted it to anyone, but in the deepest parts of her soul, El sometimes wished that when the illness had taken most of her hearing, it would have also taken her life.

El squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to make her ears work. She was sure that Ol would let her be a listener again. As her mentor, Ol told El that she was the best listener they’d had in many winters. El had never respected someone more than she did Ol. She’d resisted pressures from the community to marry, to have children, to build a many-lettered name to flaunt with pride. Two letters in her name. That was all. And that’s what El had planned for herself too.

The sharp sting of a pebble bouncing off her back broke El’s concentration. Standing behind her was Aml, her best friend. The only one she had left. Aml had married just before El’s illness and now stepped carefully across the rocky beach, her balance off kilter because of her growing belly. Aml was older by a few summers and, unlike El, had always wanted to get married. As children, Aml would giggle, her dimples deepening in her cheeks as she dreamed of how many letters she would add to her name with each new child she bore. She was just Am then. But after marrying Leo, an L was added to the end of her name. Aml didn’t like it much at first because she said it sounded like saying animal with a slur.

Aml’s long hair, the color of dry grass at the height of summer, swung with her sharp nod toward the village. She didn’t need to use words. The message was clear. It was time. Everyone was waiting for the ceremony. El glanced once more at the towering cliffs hanging over the ocean further up the coast. Yellow. She remembered a yellow dress flapping in the wind. It made her wonder if stepping away from the ocean and toward the village was the wrong choice.

She followed Aml to the choice that would at least keep her alive.

When her great-great grandmother wore the wedding dress, it had been a cheery purple color. Now, draped on El, it was faded to a pale lilac. Aml had bartered with a merchant for some pink ribbons that tied around El’s thin waist to keep the dress from dragging the ground. Aml joined El’s mother, T’feira, to brush and style her unruly hair. They smiled at El’s reflection in the mirror hanging on the wood-plank wall as they braided, twisted, and pinned. A spider web of cracks snaked from the bottom of the mirror, and El found herself slouching so they distorted her face.

El, Aml pulled El’s chin to face her. She spoke slowly and clearly so that El could watch the words form on Aml’s lips. She only talked to El like this when she really needed her to hear. He’s a good man. You’ll see. It’s okay to let yourself love someone. El turned away from Aml and blocked out her voice. With the pitch of Aml’s voice, El couldn’t understand her without looking at her. It hurt to watch her talk like this. The last time Aml had been so intent on communicating was the day she raced to El’s house to announce that Samuel had agreed to the marriage.

None of the men in El’s village would marry her. Girls weren’t supposed to marry before they were eighteen. It was a symbol of purity and strength. Girls who had children young often didn’t survive the birth because they were too weak. The girls in her village had so many things they prided themselves on. It was sickening to El. That’s why she’d planned to buck the system. She couldn’t imagine herself being one of those girls who bragged about her purity, who bragged about how many children she had and how many of those had survived the harsh winters. Being only seventeen summers, she was considered too young. The only girls who married at her age were looked down upon because they usually had their first child shortly after the wedding. And being half-deaf, she was also deemed defective. Aml’s husband, Leo, was a merchant and had arranged El’s marriage to a man from the north village across the island. El knew little about him beyond his name. She didn’t really care to know more.

El had never wanted to get married. She was content to keep her two-letter name her whole life, just like Ol, the elderly chief listener who trained her. Other girls on the island made fun of Ol, calling her names and laughing that she never found a husband. They overlooked the fact that Ol had warned the village of catamount attacks more times than they could count. She had taught El to listen to the sounds of the forest not only with her ears but with all her senses. Ol was proud of her work, just as El had been.

If my ears would just work, El thought.

The tighter she squeezed her eyes, the more tears blossomed. Frustration and anger echoed through El. Her ears taunted her with the sounds they could detect, a man’s voice or the deep rumble of the ocean waves after a storm. And what sounds they refused to acknowledge, birds singing or her best friend’s higher pitched voice. She had to filter the mixed messages as she listened through waves of silence.

She’d had to learn to listen with her eyes too, even if they saw things she didn’t want to see. Things like her father stepping into the room in the old library wearing his finest shirt and trousers, his expectant smile reflected in the cracked mirror. When she stood, the lilac dress brushed lightly against her legs. El took Edward’s hand and watched his smile grow before stepping outside. Thick gray clouds blanketed the sky, blocking out the bright afternoon sun and reflecting El’s mood, accentuating the sadness and sense of defeat that had taken root in her heart.

Villagers filled the sides of the main street. As she walked down the road, El tried to focus on the soft fabric brushing against her knees and not on the village girls clustered together dipping their gazes to the mud under their shoes. They had been her friends until they had married and started having babies. After she got sick, none of them came to visit. Now only Klae met her eyes, exuding pity from beneath her thick dark lashes as she tried to comfort her restless newborn.

The forest loomed beyond the village, and El glanced at the bright green leaves of the tall oak trees and soft needles of the pines fluttering in the gentle breeze. Her heart skipped a beat. This was it. Her last opportunity. She could still run away and take her chance in the forest with the beasts, but the warmth radiating from where her hand rested in the crook of her father’s arm changed her mind again. She couldn’t do that to her parents after all they’d done for her.

Focusing her eyes forward, El walked with defiant determination past the buildings surrounding the village center. The newly repaired gazebo in the center of the square stood in contrast to the weather-beaten wooden buildings that housed merchant shops, the tailor, and the fixers with their poultices and concoctions to treat ill and injured villagers. On the steps of the town hall ahead stood her mother with Samuel.

From a distance, she could see that her husband-to-be was broad-shouldered, and even though he was tall, his frame was stooped. A dozen tedious steps closer, and El noticed his chestnut brown hair flutter in the breeze. He met her gaze and shifted, leaning heavily on a crutch propped under his arm.

When she reached the village hall steps, El stopped, as was the custom. Close enough to give him her hand, El lifted her chin to Samuel, the stranger she’d agreed to marry out of pure desperation. As he studied her with soft brown eyes, she held his gaze. Samuel was clearly a few years older than El. Boys her age weren’t so muscled and clean shaven. He shifted, and she noticed that his left foot was swollen, that it turned inward at an odd angle.

They must be the perfect match, El thought bitterly.

El refused to take Samuel’s hand when he offered it, instead clasping her hands tightly in front of her as she stood by his side. Her parents had stepped behind them to watch the ceremony with the rest of the villagers, leaving El feeling off-balance, like when high winds would shake the listener stands in tallest trees. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused her ears on Ol, who stood before her and Samuel, lifting the brittle pages of the village journal to read the traditional ceremony.

Generations ago, the ocean rose and covered the lands. Our ancestors fought to survive and found life on this island. It became our home. Ol began the ceremony speaking clearly and slowly so that El could understand her words. In gratitude, El lifted her eyes to Ol, who gave her an empathetic smile. Today we honor their sacrifices and struggles by continuing the life of our island with a new family. Like all men, Samuel was proudly given a strong name by his father so he could be honored as a provider and protector of the people. And as a daughter of Edward and belonging to him, El began her life as E. Chosen at the age of eight to be a listener, L was added, giving her the name El to acknowledge her contribution to the community. El will now add another letter to her name from her husband, with many more letters to be added as they begin performing their duty of adding children to the village.

El could feel a blush creep over her cheeks and dipped her head, trying to hide her embarrassment. She knew what people did to make children. She couldn’t imagine doing anything like that with the strange man next to her who kept shifting his feet and the crutch tucked under his arm. Thinking about this, El could feel the blush on her cheeks turn red with anger. This was only happening because she was a girl, because she got sick, because her ears were damaged.

Look to the ocean, Ol continued. El couldn’t hear every word Ol said, but they were the same ones recited at every wedding held in the village. She knew them by heart. Remember Joel, the first brother. Look to the forest. Remember Luke, the second brother. Our founders led our ancestors to this island. They worked the soil, they fished the seas, and we are the product of their toils. Today we continue our duty to serve the island, serve the village, and serve our families.

El spent the rest of the ceremony watching the hem of Ol’s simple brown cotton dress dance in the gentle breeze that drifted through the village from the ocean. The feeling of the cool wind on her skin reminded her of being high in the trees on that winter night. Of when the rain and ice came, the tree too slick to climb down. And the illness afterwards that stole her ability to hear clearly and her ability to serve her village. T’feira, a fixer, used all of her potions and tricks to keep El alive, but couldn’t save her hearing. Through the haze of the fever that overwhelmed her body for eight days, El could see fear in her mother’s eyes. T’feira always said that even though the word fear was in the middle of her name, she’d never give in to it when treating a villager. But it had overtaken her then and spilled over into her daughter.

El chewed on her lip as anger spread. Her parents had begged the village chiefs, pleaded for her to be reassigned to a different job. That’s what would happen to a man. But women weren’t valued the same way. They’d refused, some of them insisting that El, like other women who were deemed defective, be banished to the sea or left to the will of the catamounts in the forest. T’feira finally convinced the chiefs that she had value in providing children.

Marriage or death. El had agreed to marriage because she’d seen the torn bodies T’feira had tried to fix. Men, children, whose bodies had been ripped in jagged pieces by the beasts’ teeth. It was a horrible way to die. But now, as she shifted her glance to Samuel’s deformed foot, she considered once again running away to risk a life in the forest with the bloodthirsty catamounts.

Els.

She snapped her head up to meet Ol’s eyes as the name was spoken. She couldn’t clearly hear the sound of the added S but could see it on peoples’ lips, their mouths looking like snakes. The foreign letter was taken from her husband’s name.

Els.

The community chanted it ten times, symbolically cementing her new moniker at the end of the ceremony. As she stood facing everyone, her new name drifted through the perpetual fog surrounding her ears and danced across the villagers’ mouths. It taunted her, solidifying the fact that her dreams of protecting the village had officially died.

Els stole a glance at Samuel. He held his head high, and when he looked at her, a quick wink fluttered from his right eye. She guessed that the small gesture was meant to calm her, but nothing would stop the tight knot forming in Els’s stomach or the anxious flutter of her heart.

Traditionally, there would be a celebration with music and dancing followed by a large feast. The parents would gush over the couple and send them off to their new home. The celebration for Els and Samuel was short and simple. As a small band played songs that Els thought she recognized, she sat at a table with her husband. Tapping her fingers to the beat of the sound waves bouncing off her body, Els stole another glance at Samuel’s foot. The short walk to the village courtyard revealed just how difficult dancing would be for him, as he had leaned heavily on the crutch while also struggling to stand tall.

The sun was still high in the sky when the last villager left the reception and Els and Samuel followed her parents to their new home. Els tried not to stare at him, but it was difficult to ignore the rhythm of Samuel’s crutch with his uneven gait and how his jaw tightened with the effort of every step. They walked in silence, picking their way over the pebbled, curving pathways away from the center of the village. The homes made of roughly hewn lumber became smaller with the narrowing of the path as they moved closer to the edge of the forest. There were less signs of life and more shuttered windows in these dilapidated houses that were so unlike the cozy home Els had lived in with her parents. One that was safely nestled on the other side of the village. That home had been welcoming and cozy, a place where Els had felt safe, cared for, and loved.

The home Els’s parents bought for her and Samuel had been abandoned years before when a young boy living there was killed by a catamount from the forest. The roof sagged toward the center, and tangles of weeds and vines littered the garden and climbed up the walls. Inside, buckets had been placed on the wood floor to catch rain that would trickle in through the holes in the roof. It barely constituted a house. As if frightened of it, the houses on either side of theirs had collapsed inward on themselves, leaving rotting support beams sticking up through the rubble like claws.

Edward spoke to Samuel, pointing to the ceiling and walking around the small two-room home. T’feira and Aml had put a quilt on the bed and soft pillows on the padded bench near the kitchen, trying to bring some color to the wood-plank walls. T’feira took Els’s hand and walked her to the small kitchen to show her a set of dishes and flatware. The dishes were all different sizes and shades of blue, but they were surprisingly unchipped. The flatware was clean and included a few newly sharpened knives.

El—Els, T’feira corrected herself, speaking loudly and punctuating her words with large gestures. These are good for cooking and cutting meat. Els’s cheeks reddened as she noticed Samuel’s quizzical look watching T’feira. When people spoke to her like this, she felt like an idiot, like a child just learning to speak, and her mother was the worst culprit. Her high-pitched voice was particularly hard for Els to hear.

Thank you, Els said, trying to silence her mother, hoping that her volume wasn’t too loud nor too soft. She didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings again by accidentally shouting at her, but Els had been startled at hearing T’feira say her new name. She had urged Els incessantly to marry Samuel, nearly driving Els mad. But T’feira’s heart was in the right place. Els was her only living child. The three added letters in T’feira’s name were constant reminders of the two brothers Els lost to illnesses. Being one of the best fixers in the village, the one who could treat any infection or reset any broken bone, T’feira had taken their deaths hard.

Els was relieved when her parents left. She stood in the doorway, watching them walk slowly down the path back toward the village. Once they were out of sight, she knew she should go back in the small house, but she couldn’t face her new reality—not yet. She pulled a delicate violet out of her hair, one that her mother had woven into the intricate knot. The scent of the flower was sweet and familiar. Els sat on the sagging porch, her feet resting on the steps that led to her new home. Closing her eyes, she could shut out the world and drown herself in the sweet scent of earthy smells coming from the forest.

A sharp vibration on the wooden steps shook Els. She jumped up and turned to see Samuel standing on the landing, his crutch solidly next to him where he’d pounded the floor to get Els’s attention. His eyes were apologetic, and his lips moved. But Els couldn’t decipher what he was saying.

She leaned toward Samuel, focusing on his mouth, and strained to capture any sounds that escaped. She still couldn’t understand, and now was unsettled by the sparks that danced through her nerve endings as she studied his soft lips that moved but only released a whisper of words too quiet for Els to hear.

A sudden wave of despair rolled over Els, sending her rushing past Samuel and wiping at her eyes as she closed the door to the bedroom. Her trunk sat in the corner where Leo had it delivered before the ceremony. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she carefully took off the wedding dress and laid it across the bed she refused to touch. She couldn’t imagine sharing the bed with Samuel and found herself reaching deep in her trunk for an old, brown dress and a long sweater. The sweater smelled like home, a mixture of the soil constantly caked under her father’s finger nails and the lavender oils her mother used as a fixer. The day was warm, but Els needed the comfort of another layer of fabric to separate her from her new husband.

Els spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the bedroom corner, watching leaves dance outside the dirty, cracked window. Sporadic percussions rattling the walls were the only signs that her new husband was nearby. She imagined reasons why he would be banging around so much. Maybe he was angry about the marriage too. Maybe he was using his crutch to beat the house and scare her away so he could go back to his village across the island.

Now with the sun beginning to set, Els knew it was time to prepare for night when the beasts began to roam. Windows and doors needed to be bolted. No one went outside after sunset unless it was absolutely necessary, and even a trip to the outhouse could be fatal if the listeners weren’t doing their job.

Her new home was close to the trees, too close for her comfort. Coming from the forest at night to hunt, the catamounts would slink nearly soundless on their padded feet ready to pounce and relentlessly devour their prey, slaughtering it with their sharp teeth. Usually, the beasts hunted the deer or boars living wild in the forest, but when they were desperate or particularly playful, they’d attack the village. It wasn’t uncommon for one of the larger beasts, larger than a man, even a tall man like Samuel, to break through a weak wall to capture its next meal.

When she was a listener, Els felt safe because she was posted in a listener’s stand high in the trees, far from the catamount’s reach. The wooden stands were simple, a platform with a railing and a thin canvas to protect from rain. Only a few had rope ladders, the rest had to be reached by climbing the trees using only the branches. If she heard the forest quiet, a branch snap or a low growl from the large feline animals, she would sound the alarm. Pulling the rope in her stand would trigger the system. Excitement would course through her, mirroring the bells responding throughout the village. The bell above her stand was connected to a series of other bells and other listeners’ stands. When one bell rang, they all resounded the call of warning. If the villagers were lucky, they’d only lose a chicken. But the beasts would eat any living thing they could find.

Here, in this new home, she felt exposed. The catamounts used to only attack near the time of the full moon. But over her nine summers as a listener, their attacks had grown more frequent, leaving a longer trail of death in their wake. Her one comfort was that they only came at night.

The window in the bedroom wasn’t well protected, so she tip-toed out into the main room. The open front door, along with windows on the far wall and in the kitchen, allowed in the fading light. The house felt quiet in an unsettling way. Samuel’s pounding had stopped which made everything feel too still. Boiling on the stovetop, a pot filled the small room with the scent of peppermint.

A shadow passed over the front door, and in a moment of panic, Els seized one of the knives still sitting on the kitchen table and spun toward the front door.

Els! She heard his voice, raised in shock. Lifting his arms in surrender, his eyebrows creased with confusion, Samuel’s wooden crutch crashed to the floor. The sound echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and against Els as he faced her, waiting for her next move.

I thought you were a beast, Els spoke her first words to her husband. She quickly returned the knife to the table and rushed to help retrieve his crutch from the floor. I’m sorry, she said, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear.

Samuel reached for the crutch, his hand covering hers. He smelled like fresh cut wood and pine needles. Discomforted by his touch, Els stepped back. A placid smile creased the edges of his brown eyes, the color of rich honey.

Come see, his lips formed the words, his deep voice loud enough to find Els’s ears.

Outside, Els saw the evidence of Samuel’s ruckus. A hammer, chisel, and other carpenter’s tools were spread across the small porch. Wood shavings and discarded bits of lumber laid in small piles below the windows. Samuel pointed at the new shutters and to a strong latch that had been added to the door.

Catamounts, he explained, but Els knew. While she had been hiding in the bedroom, he had been reinforcing their home, doing what he could to keep them safe before night fell. She followed him along the side