11th Spring 509
It was the spring before her growth spurt, when she was small enough to enjoy the beauty of the dandelions but old enough to have freedom to run and ride without any cares. The paths through the Sea of Grass were her own to explore, as long as she didn't stray too far and took a hunting dog with her and told her parents where she was going.
It was a good spring, warm and pleasant, and they were slowly arriving at Riverfall, the fringe of woodland and strange blue men an almost comforting sight. There was another pavilion with them, perhaps friends, perhaps customers, as it was hard to tell when they joined round the fire with a good drink and stories to tell.
The light song of birds filled the air, interrupted only by the startled squawk when a dog spied it. All was well. Merevaika had her hand on Tyo, a young Luvanor, and slunk about in the tall grasses surrounding their camp. She was still in sight of the greens and whites, the beautifully adorned tents and the horses that grazed within a safe distance.
Her father lead a small hunting party paces beside her, him, her uncle and a woman from the other pavilion. They moved with expert precision, trained eyes on the ground, but failed to missed the small girl hiding in the green. Her camouflaged eyes stared out at them, smiling that they had missed her.
But she wasn't missed by another, her mother, who snatched her up by the ear and dragged her back to camp. There sat Maya and Megs, as well as the girls from the other pavilion. Merevaika fought her mother's grip, wanting the freedom she had the right to. Unfortunately for her, the right came with responsibilities.
She was thrown to sit beside where the fire would grow, handed a piece of cloth stretched over some wood. "Thank you for teaching the girls embroidery," she heard her mother say to the woman, Merevaika pulling face. Embroidery? What use was that in the Sea of Grass, where danger lurked behind every rock or blade of grass? A needle and some thread where passed around, eventually reaching her.
There was speaking, then everyone around her started to poke holes in the fabric, winding black threads on the white. Merevaika just stared at hers, until her mother hissed at her. "Merevaika, show some respect! You'll never have this chance again."
"I'll never need it anyway!" she whined, and the woman who had previously gone round helping the younger girls stopped at her, angry expression.
"Embroidery is a well desired skill. Who else makes all the decorations on tents? Who adorns the wealthiest pavilions' clothes with the images of the kills they've made? Do you want to go unmarried?"
Married? Who cared about being married? Of course, her parents were already scheming her engagement. Fools. Merevaika voiced just this. "I don't want to get married." After a pause to take in the shocked and angry expressions, she spat out another confession, "And I don't care about all this nonsense. I'd rather just learn to hunt and ride - it's all I need."
Her mother slapped her at her disrespectful behaviour. "Merevaika! You show so much disrespect to your elders! Either you learn to embroider, or you never leave your tent again."
The young teen sulked, taking the needle angrily. She stabbed at the material, poking through her finger with the process. The bead of blood welled, dripping onto the white fabric. The girl ignored it, stabbing again. It slipped her mark, tearing the cloth, but still she persisted, bringing the needle back and forth as her pricked fingers stained everything red.
Megs stared at her work, before looking back down at her own handiwork which sported the start of an outline of a fox. It was rough, not well polished, but compared to Merevaika's, a work of art. The woman teaching them stopped by the teen, taking her work.
The thread went from one end to the other with no sense of purpose, torn in more than one place and sporting read smears across the work. "Do you want a new piece? You need to draw a design in first, then follow the charcoal with small stitches, very small. Something simple, that would work." As if to demonstrate, she took a new piece of fabric, pulling Merevaika's mess of the frame used to stretch it out. She replaced it, sketching a simple bird shape and handing it back. "Small stitches."
Merevaika's mother glared at her, "And if isn't done well, my offer persists."
The girl glared back, before taking the tiny needle, careful pushing it through the fabric. It glided smoothly, the knot tied stopping it passing through completely. After that, the girl focused completely, eyes trained with a scowl on her work. Her stitches were minute, smaller than a blade of grass, and with no doubt, she finished the last. The bird was a little wonky, but it wasn't like she cared. She could finally leave.
Merevaika threw her finished work at her mother, revealing the hard work. With a smile, she gained a compliment, "Beautiful. Yes, you may now go."
"Where's To'res?"
"Skipping stones at the river. If you're going, take Tyo with you." Merevaika rolled her eyes, whistling for the dog. He scampered up and she placed her hand on his neck, proving to her mother she would be protected.
"Can I go now?"
"Go. Have fun." Merevaika had already run off. Danika smiled gently. When she had been younger, she had been just like her daughter.
It was the spring before her growth spurt, when she was small enough to enjoy the beauty of the dandelions but old enough to have freedom to run and ride without any cares. The paths through the Sea of Grass were her own to explore, as long as she didn't stray too far and took a hunting dog with her and told her parents where she was going.
It was a good spring, warm and pleasant, and they were slowly arriving at Riverfall, the fringe of woodland and strange blue men an almost comforting sight. There was another pavilion with them, perhaps friends, perhaps customers, as it was hard to tell when they joined round the fire with a good drink and stories to tell.
The light song of birds filled the air, interrupted only by the startled squawk when a dog spied it. All was well. Merevaika had her hand on Tyo, a young Luvanor, and slunk about in the tall grasses surrounding their camp. She was still in sight of the greens and whites, the beautifully adorned tents and the horses that grazed within a safe distance.
Her father lead a small hunting party paces beside her, him, her uncle and a woman from the other pavilion. They moved with expert precision, trained eyes on the ground, but failed to missed the small girl hiding in the green. Her camouflaged eyes stared out at them, smiling that they had missed her.
But she wasn't missed by another, her mother, who snatched her up by the ear and dragged her back to camp. There sat Maya and Megs, as well as the girls from the other pavilion. Merevaika fought her mother's grip, wanting the freedom she had the right to. Unfortunately for her, the right came with responsibilities.
She was thrown to sit beside where the fire would grow, handed a piece of cloth stretched over some wood. "Thank you for teaching the girls embroidery," she heard her mother say to the woman, Merevaika pulling face. Embroidery? What use was that in the Sea of Grass, where danger lurked behind every rock or blade of grass? A needle and some thread where passed around, eventually reaching her.
There was speaking, then everyone around her started to poke holes in the fabric, winding black threads on the white. Merevaika just stared at hers, until her mother hissed at her. "Merevaika, show some respect! You'll never have this chance again."
"I'll never need it anyway!" she whined, and the woman who had previously gone round helping the younger girls stopped at her, angry expression.
"Embroidery is a well desired skill. Who else makes all the decorations on tents? Who adorns the wealthiest pavilions' clothes with the images of the kills they've made? Do you want to go unmarried?"
Married? Who cared about being married? Of course, her parents were already scheming her engagement. Fools. Merevaika voiced just this. "I don't want to get married." After a pause to take in the shocked and angry expressions, she spat out another confession, "And I don't care about all this nonsense. I'd rather just learn to hunt and ride - it's all I need."
Her mother slapped her at her disrespectful behaviour. "Merevaika! You show so much disrespect to your elders! Either you learn to embroider, or you never leave your tent again."
The young teen sulked, taking the needle angrily. She stabbed at the material, poking through her finger with the process. The bead of blood welled, dripping onto the white fabric. The girl ignored it, stabbing again. It slipped her mark, tearing the cloth, but still she persisted, bringing the needle back and forth as her pricked fingers stained everything red.
Megs stared at her work, before looking back down at her own handiwork which sported the start of an outline of a fox. It was rough, not well polished, but compared to Merevaika's, a work of art. The woman teaching them stopped by the teen, taking her work.
The thread went from one end to the other with no sense of purpose, torn in more than one place and sporting read smears across the work. "Do you want a new piece? You need to draw a design in first, then follow the charcoal with small stitches, very small. Something simple, that would work." As if to demonstrate, she took a new piece of fabric, pulling Merevaika's mess of the frame used to stretch it out. She replaced it, sketching a simple bird shape and handing it back. "Small stitches."
Merevaika's mother glared at her, "And if isn't done well, my offer persists."
The girl glared back, before taking the tiny needle, careful pushing it through the fabric. It glided smoothly, the knot tied stopping it passing through completely. After that, the girl focused completely, eyes trained with a scowl on her work. Her stitches were minute, smaller than a blade of grass, and with no doubt, she finished the last. The bird was a little wonky, but it wasn't like she cared. She could finally leave.
Merevaika threw her finished work at her mother, revealing the hard work. With a smile, she gained a compliment, "Beautiful. Yes, you may now go."
"Where's To'res?"
"Skipping stones at the river. If you're going, take Tyo with you." Merevaika rolled her eyes, whistling for the dog. He scampered up and she placed her hand on his neck, proving to her mother she would be protected.
"Can I go now?"
"Go. Have fun." Merevaika had already run off. Danika smiled gently. When she had been younger, she had been just like her daughter.
