1 Chapter 1 - Pa's Home

"Damn the sun" I think as the dawn's sharp tendrils of light slowly pull me from what I felt was a very pleasant dream just a moment ago. Already, the beautiful scene is fragmenting at an alarming rate. I lay awake for a few moments, refusing to open my eyes. Trying and failing to hold onto the better details of the dream, I feel at least a little satisfaction in recalling a flash of blonde hair. This, in itself, is interesting as I cannot not recall ever meeting someone with hair that color. I have heard stories of course. Fabled tales of princesses with long flowing tresses the color of maize. My people have mostly dark brown hair with the few elders having gone gray or pure white.

I finally open my eyes and start the usual morning routine. I decide to open my shutter in the hopes that the cool air will wake me up and am met with the distinct smell of woodsmoke. It is a common enough smell in my village, but this morning it sparks a vague sense of something adjacent to nostalgia. I have the impression that woodsmoke somehow fits into my dream this morning, but cannot quite be sure. I will myself to focus on the day ahead of me and am downstairs in the kitchen in minutes. My stern mother is busy at the stove, brow furrowed, hands flying from this pot to that pan. I want to ask how I can help, but I know from experience that interrupting my mother at this point would be a poor judgement call at best. So, instead, I set the table and head out to grab some firewood. I have to pass under my brother's window on the way, and am unsurprised to hear him still snoring (quite loudly). I am however, surprised to see father has beaten me to the wood pile this morning. He is short for a man, but sturdy. He has strong broad shoulders and limbs made thick from years of hard work. He hefts the pile of firewood under one arm with very little effort and extends his other arm out as soon as he sees me. "Ah, little Aggie! Beat you to it this morning didn't I?" I wrap my arms around him for a good long hug, then keep him close by as we take our time going back to the house. "Did you only just get in?" I ask. "Truth be told, I've been back a few hours, but I didn't want to wake anyone. So, I've been keeping busy out here." I don't even try to hold in my laughter. "Ha! You mean you didn't want to wake mum. Did you lose yer key again?" "Now, look here, Aggie. I didn't lose the damn thing. It ran away!" I practically have tears in my eyes at this point. You can depend on my father for just about anything unless it involves keeping track of a small object.

We carefully pile up the bundle of wood by the front door before taking a few pieces inside for the hearth. "Hector! When did you get here?" I quickly make myself scarce at my mother's words to give my parents some privacy. Pa has been gone just under a week, but that may as well be months to them. They have been married almost twenty years, but still act like teenagers in love most of the time. I admire my parents' relationship but I'm hardly keen to witness their reunion. Instead, I barge into my brother's room and promptly open his shutters. Next, I steal his quilt and neatly toss a boot square at his face before running out. "Damn it Aggie, could you at least try not to be such wench?" yells my brother as he curls into a ball from the cold. "Just get up Mitch! Pa's home which means your little holiday is over!" I quickly close the shutter in my own room before heading back down to have breakfast. Mitchem follows soon after, grumbling curses at me all the way down the stairs. Mum has laid out the usual morning meal: hot grain, eggs, and toast. Then I notice a newly opened jar of wild plum jam next to the butter. "Looks like you did pretty well, eh Pa?" I say gesturing to the jam, which is usually too expensive for us. "Ah, yes. I was lucky enough to come back with an empty cart this time. Besides, you know your mum is worth it." Agnes indulges in a little jam or honey whenever it is around, but mum is really the only one in the house with a proclivity for sweets. This seems odd to me, considering mum generally has a fairly sour look on her face. Still, she is a good mum and her scarce smiles seem to shine all the brighter in their rarity.

"Ah, Molly! I forgot to mention. I saw Wyla at the stalls this week. She said her boy Tom made it through his Trial in one piece" Pa says, heavily buttering his toast. Wyla is my aunt on my mother's side. My cousin Tom turned twenty last month and had to face his Trial to become a Protector soon after. Our village, Perta, is part of a larger territory called Avalata. Tom and his mom live in the same territory, but further north in the village of Bothala. The Protectors are a legion of skilled Warriors and Mystics who protect the territory from enemies and beasts alike. I guess Tom will be a Warrior. This is a fairly safe bet, considering it has been a few decades since the last Mystic was discovered in Avalata. I can tell mum is both relieved and worried at the news. When mum was ten, she lost a brother to exile when he failed his Trial. Then, mum's favorite uncle spent years with the Protectors before dying at the hands of a wraith on a routine border patrol. I can feel mum staring at me and I know what is coming. "Agnes, are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late to change your mind." I take a deep breath and remind myself to keep my voice steady. Mum needs to know I am serious. "Mum, I've thought about this for a long time. This is what I want and I know I can do it. I'm faster than all the boys in the village and stronger than at least half of them. None of them even come close to me in knife throwing and archery. If I don't become a Protector, what else would I be?" I realize I say this last line a little two forcefully when I see the hurt in my mother's eyes. "Yes, I suppose asking you to consider the wife and mother route again would be pointless. Fine, I won't waste any more breath trying to stop you from running towards an early death." After these words, everyone eats in silence and the jam goes untouched. It is certainly uncommon for a girl to take on the Trial, but it does happen occasionally. Still, I can imagine it being difficult for mum to watch her only daughter choose such a hard life.