Ashan 83rd, 700
The girl breathed in slowly as she watched the other children, her young form was ragged as the warm spring sun cast upon her and the flowers. She was surrounded by the vibrant flora, drawing beautiful similarities and differences between the raggedly dressed half-breed, her short black hair mussed and her deep blue eyes glinting. There was a watering can clutched in her hands as she looked at the various plants surrounding her. She gasped looking at one. “Look at how big the mint plant is getting!” She purred happily, humming to herself quietly as she soaked in the beauty of Ashan. Her birth season was a happy time at this point in her life, full of new spring growth and job. It wouldn’t be long before she turned six now! She was only a couple trials off.
She gently ran her hand across the petals of a flower that was starting to wilt slightly. “Hmm? What did papa say about these again,” she said as she looked at the carnation. “Some flowers are too heavy, so they need to be tied to something sturdy,” she chirped. Taking out a small pole she dug her talon into the earth slightly to make a hole before placing it in. Afterwards, she took a piece twine and tied the stem of the carnation to it. Her hands were both deft and gentle, cautious, as though she was scared to break the flower. Her gentle nature showed most when she was alone, especially in the garden. The Master didn’t care for the garden much, he didn’t care who was there or who tended it as long as it looked magnificent when guests arrived. The main gardener was an old half-sev who could care less about race as long as you kept it down. His garden was a place of peace.
When she first took interest in the garden itself her father had given her a small book on gardening and had read it for her. But she’d managed to learn the most from the old gardener. He didn’t seem to care what she was as long as she didn’t cause trouble. So she did her best to be quiet and gentle. Said old man often sat in the center of the garden doing what he called Meditation. He was either completely silent or muttering quiet phrases to himself. When questioned about it he called them mantras and did his best to explain to her what they were, she didn’t necessarily understand but she went with it. What she most remembered about it was a single phrase. ‘The goal is to be at peace with yourself’. The half-breed had been curious, so she tried it for herself once, sitting in the same position as the old man and quietly muttering the same phrase. It was a phrase she didn’t understand in a language she couldn’t place, it meant nothing to her. So she made up her own and tried. Being a 5-arc-old child she’d stayed still for about 10 trills before racing off after seeing a stray kitten. Meditation, for the time being, required more patience than she had.
Gardening was a different story entirely! The half-breed too to it the same way her father took to the sky. She just loved all the colors and how they beautifully meshed together. The bright pastels of spring, the deepness of summer, the chill of fall, even in winter there were still flowers that failed to die, resting quietly under the snow and waiting for the Ashan sun. It was amazing how such little thing, beautiful and fragile things that were easy to pluck from the earth, could come back again and again with this determination. At some point, she decided she needed to be more like a flower. With that decision, she had also come to decide that she would learn how to garden. The old man didn’t care, and The Master didn’t care, so by that logic, it was perfectly fine to spend her free time in the garden doing something that made her happy.
She ran one of her fingers over the petals of a bright red rose, being careful not to let her fingers travel downwards and linger on the stem. She hummed quietly to herself as she worked making sure that there were no bugs on the flowers and checking for bad petals just as she’d been told to. She was diligent in her work, checking each and every flower with practiced grace and caution. She did her best not to destroy any of the delicate blooms herself as she looked over each one. All the roses seemed to be clean.
As she stood up to move to another patch of flowers movement caught her eye. A small group of older kids, possibly 15 arcs at most and 13 arcs at least, were standing on the borders of the garden. They just quietly watched her occasionally turning to one another and releasing a snicker or some kind of comment she was too far away to actually hear. She was getting a bad feeling and was tempted to go get the old man. He’d told her before that if anyone ever bothered her in his garden to go and get her.
Before she could leave though, the echoing calls of “girl, girl! Hey girl!” Started pounding on the inside of her ears and throbbing at her head. When was the last time someone besides her father called her by name? There was a tiny boil of anger, and combined with her trusting nature, it egged her into turning on her heels and marching towards them, the small feathers scantly placed on her legs flaring up angrily. They had yet to become a thick sheet meaning that the slightly blue skin of her legs covered with patches of black and her long bird long feet was an odd sight. It was no wonder she got bullied.
“What?” She growled fluffing up her feathers as much as she could manage. She didn’t look very intimidating. She was still 5. They were still 15. She was lucky if she was half the size of the youngest in the group. None the less she put on a little pout and brave face. She’d already dealt with the bullying of the other kids and she already knew about the kind of things that The Master did. What was the worst they could do to her?
Apparently, that wasn’t a question that one should ask, as the older boy all lunged forward. The little girl threw herself backward but grasping hands were quickly pulled around her feet and ankles and she found herself being dangled upside down like some kind of prize. “Look! We caught a bird! Think we should feed it to the dog?” One of the boys asked with a laugh.
“Nah, you’ll make the mutt sick if you feed this to him. It’s trash, not even fit for the feast of buzzards. I say we do what we ought to do with trash and throw it in the river,” the oldest of the group said, his teeth glinting in the sunlight like ivory fangs. The little girl thrashed wildly trying to free herself from their grasp.
“Shut up,” the youngest of the group snapped, slapping her across the cheek as she continued to dangle. The blood was already in her cheeks so the mark wasn’t as visible as it could have been. “Be a proper woman for once in your life,” he laughed.
“Nah, you can’t call a creature like this a woman. You can’t expect her to act like one,” another jeered as a chorus of laughter jumped between the group. She could feel herself being jostled and then the earth began to move under her. The boys chanted something that she couldn’t quite make out of the words of, possibly the Etzori native tongue? Her father said many of the farmers spoke it, but he hadn’t gotten around to teaching it to her.
“Alright, boys. A one, a two, a three,” the oldest boy cheered after they came to a jarring stop. With each number, her body swung a little as the boy holding onto her and suddenly she was hurdling through the air. Her body collided with the cold shock of water and she gasped, only for water to invade her lungs. It was so cold that it burned at her skin and she coughed wretchedly as she tried the pull herself above the water. Her limbs flailed as she tried to push herself upwards, occasionally breaching the surface as she was dragged farther and farther downstream. Her wings felt like steel weights and she gave avian screeches of panic every time she had the breath to. When her head did pop above the surface there was laughter, a chorus of laughter.
Then there were screams. Five more splashes. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and her body was pulled above the surface. A couple of the boys were yell profanities, the others panic, those left on the shore to watch were crying now. She looked down seeing a deeply wrinkled and liver spot covered hand. It looked so frail, but it was remarkably strong as it cradled her against a chest that heaved with effort. She searched her memory trying to figure out who had saved her. This wasn’t her father, but who would save her besides her father?
As the shore got closer she reached out to cling to it, her arms grasping at the solid earth beside the river bed. When she got close enough the arm let go of her and allowed her to haul herself up. She choked, coughing up some of the water that she’d managed to breathe in. Her entire body shivered as she wrapped her arms around her soaked form. An angry voice echoed next to her, a familiar voice. “You should all be ashamed of yourself. I won’t tell your parents, but I will tell The Master,” the gardener snarled viciously as the boys he’d pushed into the river trying to get into it himself swam towards the shore, far more able to than the 5 arc old they’d thrown on.
The boys shrank away, knowing that they were in trouble. The crying of the smallest boy got worst. The gardener simply huffed before picking up the half-breed once more, seeing she was too shaky to stand on her own feet. After walking a way he sighed heavily, his shoulders relaxing as he let go of a breath she hadn’t realized he was holding. Her shivering stopped slightly as the sun clung to her skin and began to pry away the water drops. “Didn’t I tell you, if anyone tries to bother you in the garden, come get me first.”
That was the first friend the half-breed managed to make.
