47 Challenge - Backstory (1)

Freya yawned and sat on her bed. Looking at the sky turning blue welcoming a new morning, she opened the window and sucked in a deep, chilly breath.

Wearing her beige shirt and dark brown pants, she covered her head with a shawl as her mother demanded. Asking for the reason was accompanied by a wave of silence and changing topic. Her silver hair was unique, but she saw no one with this kind of colour.

Freya headed down the wooden stairs in a flash moment and faced her mother, who worked in their small kitchen. The scent of freshly baked bread spread from the first floor to the second.

"Mommy, why are you working this time? The physician ordered you to rest and not tire yourself!" Freya complained, pursing her lips.

"People will say good morning at first, Freya." Her mother took a new vague from the over, putting it on the kitchen counter. "I need to make this to get coins," she said gently, patting her head.

Her mother's frame got skinnier. Her once-glowing face was as if she aged fast. The wrinkles in her face increased, and the glitter in her purple eyes dimmed. Seeing her mother deteriorated body made her worry.

Her mother, Lavender, never told her about the thing saddening her. She heard her crying many times in the past year. "I will work for the family and make more coins in the future," she murmured, displeased.

"Sit to have your breakfast," her mother ordered. Freya sat, drinking the milk with sugar bread. No one in the work made bread like her mother. "Eat slowly," Lavender said.

"I have to go to the meeting with Mr Eferhon." She gulped the last sip of the milk and stood up. After convincing her mother to learn how to use the bow, she started practising two weeks ago.

"What did you forget?" Her mother said. Freya smiled, walked over and planted a kiss on her mother's cheek. "Take the basket with you. Walk carefully."

Freya nodded and dashed out, smiling at the wind caressing her face.

She marched through the soiled ground. Her house was the last on the pathway, so she had to walk for a long distance.

The Perchie town was a small town in the north of the Valian kingdom. It boarded the sea, and its weekly market was buzzing that day. The ships from the other region would stop in their town. More people would buy what her mother made from food, needlework, and some plants allowing them to earn coins. It was enough for them to have a decent living.

Freya wanted to learn how to hunt with Mr Efershon so that she could help her mother. The meat she would hunt would bring them a lot of coins. Besides, she wanted to be able to go to the mountains as there were a lot of rare plants growing there. Going to Gun Mountain was like opening a treasury, but it cost a lot. Dangers lurked there, waiting to attack the wonderer and the greedy people.

She arrived at the entrance of the bigger house in the town, printed in orange. The colour was eye-catching. It belonged to Mr Efershon, who was an old man of her grandfather's age, and also her master. He was a well-known knight, but he got injured, causing his right hand to be amputated.

She thought he came here to run from the people's mockery. She heard a lot of bad things about the nobles who lived in the big cities. They saw commoners like her as nothing. If she encountered someone who belittled her, she would beat him.

Freya knocked on the door. A woman in a grey, sophisticated robe welcomed her in.

"Good Morning, Madame Eferhon. My mother asked me to deliver this," greeted Freya, smiling as she handed the hamper to the woman whose hair was combed elegantly to the back, showing her old face but young spirit.

"Good morning dear, come in. Gerard will be here in a while. I will pay you before you go back," she said, accepting the basket.

Freya nodded, followed the woman and sat on the chair. It was not the first time she saw the house's interior, but she was in awe. The furniture appeared simple, but it was sophisticated. The living room had four settees and two majestic chairs that Mr Eferhon liked to sit in and enjoy the scenery outside. They would replace a new carpet every month. And the round table was cute.

The back door opened, and heavy footsteps walked in. Mr Eferhon saw her sending her a warm smile. His stoic face turned gentle. His eyes were black like charcoal. His white hair and wrinkled face did cause people to think that he was old, not in his early fifties.

"Good morning, Mr Eferhon," she said, getting up.

"Little Freya is already here! Where is that useless boy?" he said, shifting his gaze to the kitchen.

"Why are you calling him like that? Danny is not useless."

"He is. How can a little girl get up before him while he spends his days in leisure?"

At the two bickered like children, Freya caught a figure descending the stairs while yawning. His fiery red hair and grey eyes made him look like a dol. If he was a girl, she would be beautiful when she grew up. "Why are you shouting early this morning? You woke me up from my sleep," he said sleepily.

"Look at your grandson! The sun is high in the sky, but he still wants to sleep more," Mr Eferhon said, fuming in anger, but he was displeased when his wife went to Danny and patted his hair.

"Come to eat. Freya brought the sweet cookies you like the most," she said, hugging her grandson's shoulder.

"Continue treating him like that and watch how he will be frivolous once he grows up!" his wife ignored him and went with Danny.

Freya chuckled, then tracked Mr Eferhon outside. "Let's see your progress," he said. Freya grabbed the bow hanging on the backyard wall and threw the arrow, which missed the target. She stomped her legs and pursed her lips. After a few attempts, she panted. The sweat dropped from her forehead.

"You need to fix your posture. You had to develop your physical endurance too," he said, showing her the right posture. Freya watched carefully and listened to the instructions.

Mr Eferhon went because his wife called him. "Why are you learning this?" Danielson said, approaching her.

"I want to go hunt," she said, remembering the posture and then releasing the arrow, which bypassed the target again.

"It is useless. You can't learn a simple thing like this and want to go hunt," he said.

Freya shifted her gaze to the boy. They had the same height and probably the same age, so she could tell he underestimated her skills. "Show me," she challenged, handing him the wooden bow.

The boy accepted the challenge and shot the arrow right into the target. "Just give up. This isn't for girls," he said, returning to the house.

Freya boiled with anger. 'I will show you one day, you brat!'