Thoughts • "Xanthea" • "Common"
15 Ashan 700
Memory - Age 5
Traveling Between Hiladrith and Etzos
Memory - Age 5
Traveling Between Hiladrith and Etzos
A constant, steady thrumming of soft, drizzling rain beat against the outer covering of a horse drawn wagon, whose occupants stayed nestled within the canvas’ protective shell and sat wrapped up in thick cloaks to keep warm. While the season greeted them with light, warmth had yet to caress away the icy touch of cylus on the land and so, every breath released bloomed a cloud of fog. Somehow, it wasn’t cold enough for snow fall, but the rain felt freezing all the same.
Within the wagon sat a mother and her child, posed before her with legs criss-crossed and leather bound books piled in a stack next to them. They swayed and moved as the wagon wheels caught bumps in the road beneath them, but neither paid attention to the mild distraction. The girl was wide eyed and fascinated by the language her mother spoke. It was foreign and weird. She was trying to mimic it to the best of her abilities but her tongue couldn’t curl or lips tighten the way her mother’s did.
A gloved finger pointed to the woman’s eyes as she said, “My eyes. Eyes.” Then pressed the palm of her opposite hand to her chest. “MY eyes.” She then leaned forward and touched her daughter’s shoulder, “You.” She told, motioning with her other hand to the girls eyes, “Your eyes.”
“Your eyes.” She mimicked again, gesturing towards her dark, chocolate brown orbs.
“No, no, Keama. You say MY when you’re talking about yourself. MY eyes. MY lips. MY hair.” Each feature she spoke, Tsaia gestured with her hands.
“My eyes, my sips, my ear.” Keama said slowly, nervous of whether she’d gotten it right. Her hands made mild gesture to clarify her words with her features and instead, picked at the fur lining of the cloak her mother wrapped her in.
“Very close, little cub. You’ll get the hang of it.” Tsaia praised her, reaching for one of the books beside them. Maybe Keama was getting bored of language?
“Momma, I wanna go play.” The young girl groaned, wiggling where she sat.
Tsaia shook her head, picking through what subjects were available to keep the girl’s interests. They had read through most of the material at this point and with Keama yearning for outdoor activities, the Sev’ryn woman knew her mission would most likely end in defeat. “Not right now, my cub. It’s raining and the merchants don’t want to stop. Maybe after supper, you and I can play.”
Keama pouted, “But I don’t wanna wait till supper. You’ll make me go to sleep.”
“If the rain stops, I promise, we will stay up and play.” Her mother replied, never looking at her as her fingers flipped through warped pages of a thick book. “Come here, little cub. Let me show you these colors.”
For much of the day, the two were buried in books while the cold rain fell from the heavens, unendingly, it seemed. The pair had been traveling with a group of merchants from the city of Hiladrith to the borders of Etzos’ territory. Accompanying the merchant group were other families and adventurers, as well as a hired mercenary unit that didn’t react so fondly with the rest. They were quiet and strict with their schedule, but Tsaia had yet to see anything happen on the trip so far, so she assumed they were doing their duties well.
Many of the families had split off along the way already. If they hadn’t, Tsaia’s and Keama’s wagon space would be filled with people instead of books. It was nice to have the comfort of space finally, but the Sev’ryn mother knew her daughter was lonely. There’d been so many children at the start of the journey but now, it was just Keama.
The girl knew how to work her way into trouble when she was bored. Even more, she knew how to work Tsaia’s last nerve. Though some days, the Sev’ryn woman thought of taking her child back to Desnind with hopes Keama would finally have a normal, rooted life. Her family would take pity on her, maybe even feel ashamed, but Keama would be cared for properly and that was what mattered most. Only, could Tsaia bring her back to such a place? Could she risk her daughter finding out the shameful act that caused her existence?
Oddly enough, Tsaia felt love for her daughter in ways she’d never experienced before. She would gladly forsake her homeland and the comforts there if it meant Keama could grow up without such knowledge of her heritage.
When late afternoon came around, Keama practically flew out of the wagon and nearly fell into the mud had it not been for Tsaia’s quick hand. The child knew not to leave her mother’s sight, so instead, she waited for one of the merchants to approach their area before falling upon them with youthful energy.
“Did you have an easy ride?” The older man asked, his head bald and robes tucked under a thick cloak.
“It was boring, but momma and I played a game and I beat her a lot.” She told more than gloated. “Do you have another game I could play?”
The man thought for a moment, his eyes turned up before shrugging his shoulders and smiling. “Hmm, I do, but this game requires a more patient mind. I’m not sure you’d like it, but do you want to try?”
When Keama nodded, the man waved a hand and told her to wait before shuffling off to the wagon he emerged from. The attention span of a child, however, is unpredictable. Therefore, it was no surprise to see the girl wander away in the direction of a red horse after only a minute or two.
The horse was tied up enough to prevent it from running away, though the straps were loose to allow it to graze. Keama remembered her mother warning her of the beasts. ‘Do you like it when someone jumps up behind you? It’s scary, isn’t it? They feel the same way, so don’t scare them.’ She had said, a piece of advice that stuck with her. Keama kept a fair distance from the horse and edged around it before checking to make sure no adult were around to stop her. Once the coast was clear, she approached cautiously with small, hesitant steps.
The creature was massive, but looked gentle all the same. Fearful of its size, Keama’s curiosity won out more and she lifted a hand when it’s large head turned to regard her. It stayed where it was, as if bored, then turned back to pluck strings of cold, wet grass from the soil. Nya’s hand brushed its mane softly, watching to see if it would move but it didn’t. So she stayed by and continued to pet it until the horse gave a noise of complaint and lifted its head up.
“What’s this child doing by my horse?”
Turning sharply, Keama straightened, having been caught. She didn’t understand a word the merchant was saying but watched him unfasten the ties that bound the horse to the wagon and pull it free. Mumbling something, she pointed, striking the merchant's curiosity enough to see him bend down to her level.
“Your whore?” She asked, pointing.
His brow furrowed while his eyes grew wide, “Huh?”
“Your whore?” Nya repeated again, but this time, the words sprung a bout of laughter from the merchant that saw him lean forward with his head in his hand. When he stood, he tousled her hair and shook his head. “You’re an adorable savage, aren’t you?”
Confused, Keama saw the merchant look up and followed his eyes to see the bald man from earlier frowning at him, before he tugged the horse’s reins and led it away. “Let’s get you back to your mother.” Was all the bald man said as he handed a rectangular, wooden box off to her and guided her back towards her wagon.
Word Count: 1331
