What the Wind Brings

One

         The sun crept over the horizon, sneaking above the autumn forest and splashing its first golden rays onto a small dirty hovel, as the earliest morning rooster crowed not too far off in the distance. The animals of the shack’s small barn had already started shifting impatiently in their stalls when the first of the occupants of the small run-down shack stirred.

         It was in the smallest room towards rear of the place where a raven-haired young woman, nearing the end of her teen years, groaned and, upon rolling off her pallet, landed with a thump onto the firm, earthen floor.

         The young woman had been having a strange, vague and yet enchanting dream. Spires of slick jade jutted into the heavens, tall and jagged. It had looked almost as if a seashell had shattered in the surf and the waves had embedded the shards vertically into the surrounding beach. Miles below these sleek towers lay hundreds of tiny flecks of emerald, each of these surrounded by dull, almost lucid brownish smudges. The scene had lasted only a few moments, but even with the quick glance the girl knew something was very wrong with... what ever it was she had been gazing down upon.

         She pondered of this while lying sprawled on the floor, mind tumbling the scene around, trying to recall every detail. She absently scratched her cheek and turned over onto her back. There had been one spiral that had caught here eye, this one had been a great deal shinier than the rest and looked a deeper green. It had seemed of more importance then the rest, though it may have been the sun’s rays playing tricks.

         A great snort and whiny from the barn had jolted her back into reality. The girl groaned and quickly picked herself up off the floor. Chores were more important than any frivolous daydreams, this she knew, but she couldn’t help but wish for a few peaceful moments more.

         Glancing about the room she sighed, nothing emerald or jade here, just her own humble room, humble even for a peasant. A small straw mattress too small for her length had been pushed against the wall, beneath her one small and tightly shuttered window. There was a small chest of clothes across from her, but nothing else ornamented the tiny, mundane room.

         Frowning she crawled to the chest and lobbed it open before looking inside. Three pairs of breeches, two tunics, and three under-tunic-shirts, two long-armed and one short, all in some humble variation of brown and gray. Peasant colors.

         She sighed as she pulled out a pair of worn rusty-brown breeches and matching tunic, along with an under-shirt the color of graying wood. She slipped them before stumbling over to the window and tossing it open.

{indent]Bright rays of sunlight met her face and a chilly autumn wind whipped and cooled her cheeks before thrashing about the room and, after finding nothing of interest, leaving it back to its hollow, forlorn self.

         Not wanting to vex her father further she slipped one long slim leg out the window, followed by a second and wiggled out before hurrying over to the barn.

[Work in Progress]