Summer Days

[Dove Brown]

45 Summer, 515, evening

Dove stepped into her cottage and sighed with relief at the coolness. It was far too hot to have a fire going, especially after having been working in the sun all day. Besides, her arms ached from the day's labour and she'd rather not add to that by chopping wood. Dove opened the door and the window shutters wide to let some air in. She kicked off her boots, padded barefoot across the cool stone floor of her cottage, and opened her storage chest to check her supplies. The scent of herbs wafted up her nose in the slight breeze from the open window and she turned her head away to sneeze. The herbs did smell good, she thought, but most of them were better for cooking. Finally, she took out a half loaf of bread, some hard cheese, and a couple of mint leaves, lowered the chest lid back into place and took her food over to her table.

She crumbled the dried mint into her cup, then fetched her waterskin from the shadiest corner of the cottage. It kept slightly cooler in the shade, on the stone floor, but it still wasn't cold. Still, she filled her cup, and restored the waterskin to the shady corner. The bread was a couple of days old now and slightly stale around the edges, but it was still perfectly edible, and it had been cheaper thatway. She hacked two slices of bread off the loaf with her eating knife, and cut thin pieces of cheese to cover them. She checked her cup and saw that the water had turned a very pale gold as the mint began to flavour it.

With a smile, she took her food and her cup and settled on the floor to eat. The stone floor and walls leached some of the heat from her body and she winced to discover a patch of sunburn on the back of her neck. She must have gotten it while she was carrying stones to help rebuild one of the walls between the fields. She washed down the last of her bread and cheese with the water, savouring the fresh taste of the mint, leaned her head back against the wall, and began to run through the list of things she needed to get done tonight.

[Dove Brown]

She straightened eventually, put the remaining food away and wiped everything clean. She looked at the mending she needed to do, then at the light. It was brighter outside, even though it was hotter out there too.

She stretched slowly, swinging her arms up and round a big circle, and rolling her head on her neck. Her spine crackled quietly and she sighed. She dragged her chair outside and planted it in the weeds to the left of her door. It wobbled and she had to bend and scrabble through the dry dirt to remove the offending stone. Once the chair was stable, she ducked back inside to get her torn shirt, a needle and some thread. She took all three outside.

Settling in her chair, she nodded politely to the other villagers heading about their business, and fielded a handful of "Hello"s and "Nice day!"s, responding in kind. She drew a long length of thread off the spool, tried to snap it and failed. She scowled at it and dashed back inside to find a knife. She found one at last and sawed through the thread, then took the cut length outside. She threaded her needle at the third attempt, and lodged the needle carefully in the shirt she was wearing so that she couldn't drop it or lose it in the dirt. She didn't have a spare. She spread the torn shirt across her knee to get a good look at the damage and sighed with relief when she saw that it was the shoulder seam that had come apart, not the actual cloth.

She turned the shirt inside out so her clumsy sewing would be as hidden as possible and pinched the sides of the tear together with her left hand. With her right hand, she pulled her needle free and plunged it through the cloth on one end on the tear. She meant to stop with a little thread not pulled through, so she could stitch twice on the same spot, but somehow she didn't catch the end of the thread in time. She tried a second time and this time managed the double stitch that would stop the whole mend unraveling.

[Dove Brown]

She shifted her pincer grip on the seam and the entire shirt slid off her lap, taking the thread with it. She still held the needle though. Dragging the shirt of the ground and back onto her knees, she fumbled over the cloth until she found the torn seam and trailing thread. She licked her fingers and ran them over the end of the thread to stiffen it, then rethreaded her needle. She sewed a line of stitches along the seam. They weren't even close to even, and far too big, so that the shirt cloth dipped and puckered from her efforts. "Petch," she muttered as she reached the end and sewed a pair of stitches on top of each other. She stuck a finger through one of the gaps and regarded it thoughtfully.

I can't leave it like this. It's nearly as bad as the original... she mused, withdrawing her finger and trying to smooth out the puckered shirt. Maybe I shouldn't pull so hard? Or - or I could do it again the other way and fill in the gaps! Her face brightened and then tightened fractionally as a pair of knights went past towards the wall around the outpost. She nodded politely, even if they didn't respond. They were bigger than she was, and better armed and armoured, and she'd seen how - firm - they could be when they'd insisted that everyone go up to Syliras for the duration of the storm. Interestingly, when they were firm, people automatically obeyed them.

She turned the shirt and worked her way back along the seam, trying to fill the gaps in the first set of stitches. The new seam was still crooked and uneven, but she couldn't put a finger through it anymore. She tied a knot at the end and pulled the needle free. Tucking the needle through the shirt she was wearing, she turned the mended shirt the right way out and took it inside. She put it on one side to wash, and carefully stored away her precious needle and thread. She popped back out into the heat, and dragged her chair inside, before beginning to loosen up her aching muscles so she could practise with her sling.

[Dove Brown]

Her stretches were as much a matter of instinct as training. She placed both hands in the small of her back and arched backwards over them, then straightened and stretched her arms upwards towards the roof beams above her. Dropping her arms to her sides, she swung her right arm forward and up past her ear, and down again, making a circle in the air. Then she did the same with her left arm. Right arm circle. Left arm circle. Both arms circling together a few times. Finally she stretched both arms out wide like someone asking for a hug and then brought them round in front of her as if she hugged herself.

Her aches eased, though not completely gone, she picked up her sling and a handful of bullets and dived back out into the heat. She circled round behind her cottage, where there was a long stick stuck in the ground for a target. She took up a position as far away as she could get and still swing, then tested her distance by swinging the empty sling. It didn't hit anything, which she took as a good sign. She slid a bullet into the sling pocket and let the weight pull the sling downwards. She shifted her feet a little wider on the dust for better balance and wrapped one end of the sling through her fingers. The other end she held firmly as she swung the sling in a wide circle above her head. Once to get it up there, twice to get the speed she needed, and the third time she aimed and let go. The bullet went left rather than forwards and bounced into a clump of grass.

"Shyke," she muttered to herself, "you're letting go too late again." She mentally marked the position of the first bullet so she could collect it later and dropped another one in the sling pocket to try again. This time, she let go too early and the bulet went right, and bounced off the back wall of the cottage. Three tries later, she finally got her timing right and sent the bullet skittering into the weeds at the base of the stick. Dove felt her right arm trembling at the effort as she set up for another shot. Halfway through the second swing, it cramped, and her fingers opened involuntarily. The bullet landed on her bare foot.

She swore and hopped, and tried to rub her arm and her foot at the same time. That didn't work any better than her aim did. The attempt sent her sprawling on the ground and she tried not to cry with frustration. She had to get better at this. Practice made perfect - or at least better - but even with practice, she didn't seem to be getting anywhere very fast.

[Ball]

And the grades come rolling in.

 

Overall Comments

Well written Dove. I liked it! =D Enjoy your grades!

Any questions or concerns do not hesitate to PM me with them. Also, please do not forget to update your CS with the lores and XP. and Please mark your grade request as graded in the queue.

-Ball

 

Dove Brown

Experience Points.

Cooking	+1
Sewing	+2
Medicine	+1
Weapon(sling)	+1

Lores.

• Cooking: Not really, prepping bread and cheese
• Sewing: Mending a torn seam
• Sewing: Doubling stitches to patch a hole
• Weapon(Sling): Releasing too late misses target
• Weapon(Sling): Releasing too soon also misses target
• Weapon(Sling): Fatigued muscles result in stones hitting foot, that hurts.
• Medicine: Stretching out muscle cramps.

Template Credit: Edric Wingard