The Elder Tree

  Alarra settled gently in the crook of an old elder tree. Above her fell fat lazy snowflakes, coating her tracks in an ethereal carpet of crystals. She sighed, wishing silently to herself that life was as peaceful as her surroundings. Inside raged a storm, fury and sorrow etched the edges of her heart. She was to be sold, as the thirteenth child of a poor farmer she was as good as livestock to her father. A silent tear trailed down her pale cheek. Even now they are accepting bids. "How do I accept this?" She murmured to the shimmering woods surrounding her. Slowly her head fell into her scrunched up knees. But what can I do? I have nothing, I am nothing. 

  The sky let loose a low howl and above her flurries began glittering the breeze. She shivered, not due to cold however, her skin was of winter, or so she thought. Cold never touched her, she was born of ice, found in the drifts by the farmers late wife she became the thirteenth burden of an already struggling family. The wife passed soon after. Nobody really explained why or how, though Alarra could guess by the pictures she saw of her and the thin ribs that poked through her threadbare dresses. She couldn't really blame the farmer for selling her. Food was scarce and she was not of his blood. Another tear slid down, followed by her bones shuddering deep within her small frame. Even so, what shall become of me?