In fifteen years, you'll be leading a band of outlaws with your beloved. But fifteen years feels like a century to you now.
You were named Taravi, but they call you Tavi. You're a scrawny, scrappy sort of girl, all long legs and straw-colored hair you couldn't even keep neat in a braid. Your mother's been mistress of the trading post you've called home as long as you can remember. They say she stepped up when your father didn't come back from the hunt, and she does the job well enough that none dare object.
They call it a trading post. One day, you'll know it's something closer to a village, a fort, a medley of buildings and open spaces surrounded by a wall to keep the wilds out.
It always turns into a mire when it rains. Today is no exception.
You're up to watch the hunt leave, heading into the wilds to build the stores up after a long winter. Horses paw impatiently at the mud, prancing defiantly, and you once again feel a spike of disappointment that you can't come along as they trot out the gates, ghostly shapes in the foggy morning light.
The women wander off to the kitchens and laundry, leaving their brats behind to start stomping in the puddles and making a mess. Quickly enough, they're screeching like owls, throwing mud at one another. One of the maids will surely be out to scold them for ruining their clothes if they keep at it.
Last year, you were wading with them, throwing mud and howling when it got into your shirt. It was fun, even if the scolding you got afterward wasn't.
The women aren't coming out to scold their brats. Perhaps they're busy, the noise drowned out by pots and pans and splashing water.
Perhaps they just don't want to come out into the rain.
You're tempted to [[join the fray->splash]]. There's not much else to do.
Still, with most adults on the hunt, you could [[find some other ways to entertain yourself->explore]].
(set: $apple to false)
(set: $clean to true)
(set: $trouble to false)
(set: $cratesearch to false)
(set: $crate to false)
(set: $name to false)
(set: $hair to false)
(set: $why to false)
(set: $canshoot to false)
(set: $family to false)
(set: $snack to false)
(set:$wagon to false)
(set: $doubt to false)
(set:$try2 to false)
(set: $ciderhouse to false)
(set: $smokesearch to false)
(set: $stablesearch to false)You're not old enough to resist a puddle yet.
Slipping off your boots, you set off running. You drop, slide, setting off a wave of mud that makes the other children shriek with delight.
You're covered in mud from your braid to your breeches.
As you get to your feet, the little ones scatter.
"Bog monster!" They shout, shoving one another playfully. "Don't let it catch you!"
Shaking mud from your hands, you watch the little runners slip and fall over themselves. It would almost be too easy to [[give chase->chase]].
You're the eldest kid in the post today, though. Perhaps you ought to [[set a good example->nochase]].
(set:$clean to false)The overcast sky seems to paint the familiar buildings in a new light, soft around the edges and silent for lack of occupants. You skirt the deeper puddles as you walk, taking in the strange stillness as you wander. (if: $cratesearch is true)[
Now, where might you find something to stand on?
] Here's the [[smokehouse]], usually billowing black fumes of cedar and savory meat as someone salts jerky or cuts up kindling on the steps. The door's closed today, though you can still smell the temptations within.
The [[cider house]] lays against the orchard side of the post, a simple structure that houses crates full of apples and the stills needed to make your mother's favorite sweet brew. The smell of it is tempting no matter the time of year, a place saturated in the sweet scent of fruit and spice.
Only a few yards beyond, the [[stables]] are open as they always are, though there's far less bustle and far fewer horses within today. There's a warm glow of lantern light from inside, and you can hear the faint sounds of the occupants shifting around in their stalls, talking back and forth in soft whickers and snorts.
(if: $cratesearch is false)[On the edge of things, where shooting can be practiced without putting the rest of the post in danger, the [[armory]] sits, quiet and still as can be. The butts are abandoned in the rain, the door closed but unlocked.]You've had your fun, and chasing the kids around will only wind them up more.
"Keep it down," you warn, wiping your hands on your breeches. "Or you'll get a swat for ruining your clothes."
They're not thinking about consequences. They're thinking about how fun it is to slap mud on one another and cause indignant shrieks of laughter. You could [[watch them->caught]] go at it for a while, if you're feeling lazy.
It may a good day to [[explore]] the post and see what you can get up to without the adults milling around.
You can hear the watchers shouting to one another on the walls. It seems there's a cart being drawn up to the gates. Another boring fur trader? Likely. But there's always a chance a trader will bring something worth [[seeing->wagon]].Shaping your hands into claws, you run after the younger children, muddy water drenching your legs with each step.
You give a weak little bear roar, sending them into fits of squeals and giggles. They scatter like sheep when you draw too near, tripping over themselves and squealing.
This sort of game's fun, especially when you just want to [[keep them running->tired]]. But if you speed up a bit, you could easily [[catch one->caught]].
You keep the little ones running, letting them scamper away when you get close enough to scoop them up.
They begin to flag before you do, thankfully, flopping down in the dirt when they're tired of running. They're still giggling when you stop, breathless, leaning against an outbuilding until a cramp in your side goes away.
"What on earth--"
One of the women has finally shown up, it seems. The children have all frozen, staring past the counting house wall with wide eyes.
"Look at you all! Covered in dirt like pigs!"
You do have a fair amount of dirt on you. At least the matron hasn't seen you yet. You've still got time to go [[clean]] up at the bathhouse, or creep [[away]] to avoid being dragged into any chores. "Children!"
The sound of a maid's voice is sharp enough to cut through the sounds of screaming children. You consider trying to sneak away, but she's focused her stare on you, the one old enough to know better.
"Taravi, really. To think you've been tugging at your mum's apron begging her to go on the hunt, sayin' you're grown, and what do I find?" She grabs a little girl by the arm, hauling her to her feet. "The duchess herself, playing around in the dirt with the babes."
You know she's right, of course. Arguing will just get your ears boxed.
"Get up and help me round up these little pigs," she commands, pulling a boy out of a puddle. "We've got to clean them up before they track their mess all over the place."
Getting to your feet, you glance toward the other side of the yard. You could still [[make a break for it->away]], if you feel reckless. But the specter of your mother's wrath if you don't [[take your punishment->clean]] isn't terribly appealing.
(set: $trouble to true)(if: ($cratesearch is false) and ($wagon is false))[You walk up the steps, habitually skirting the side that salters are usually sitting on. The door doesn't creak at all when you open it, oiled by years of animal fat in the air.
There's a few open crates of cured meat beneath the hanging cuts, and a bit of jerky near the door. You haven't eaten since breakfast, you realize. It'd be easy enough to grab a few pieces for a [[snack]] before you go back to your [[wandering->explore]].
](if: $cratesearch is true)[You make your way to the smokehouse, hopping up the steps in tandem before peeking your heads inside.
There are a few crates in here, but they're all full of salt or meat, and far too heavy for a pair of girls to carry.
"Rats," Lalida says, turning back to the open yard. "[[Where else can we look?"->explore]] (set: $smokesearch to true) ](if: $cratesearch is false)[The cider house is the sort of place you could curl up with a book. The interior is warm from the stills, filled with the heady scent of apples and spices. A few empty crates are stacked near the door, and you have to edge past them to get inside.
A crate near one of the stills has been left ajar, and you can see the apples within. They look fresh enough to eat, despite being stored so long.
Nobody would miss one if you [[take it->apple]]. There's not much else to do [[in here->explore]].
](if: ($cratesearch is true) and ($wagon is false))[You push the door open again, holding it wide as you drag one of the empty crates out into the open air. It's not heavy, but it is unwieldy, and you struggle to drag it across the mud [[back to the armory->shoot]]. (set: $crate to true)
](if: ($wagon is true) and ($cratesearch is true))[You see the empty crate as soon as you push the door open, and Lalida's gasp of delight makes it clear she's seen it, too.
"Perfect!" She declared, already dislodging it from the stack. "Here, help me move it."
Lalida helps you push the crate out of the cider house, closing the door carefully behind you both. The process goes much faster with two of you, and soon enough you're catching your breath back at the [[butts->shoot]].
(set: $crate to true)
] (if: $cratesearch is false)[The stables usually feel hectic, to one degree or another. Today they feel cozy, the warm light of the lanterns casting soft shadows along the stall doors and packed dirt floor of the main aisle.
As you walk in, a few long heads pop out over their stall doors, curious to see a visitor on this quiet day. One of them snorts at you, an equine demand for [[attention->horses]].
There's a ladder leading up to the [[hayloft]], though it's dark and quiet up there. You're not sure if the stable kids have stuck around today or if they're off on the hunt.
One horse takes a mouthful of hay from his cradle, setting up a cloud of dust. You pause to stifle a sneeze. Perhaps it's better to [[explore]] somewhere that won't set your eyes burning.
](if:$cratesearch is true)[You walk down the center aisle of the stables, popping up to peek over empty stall doors in search of anything that might aid you in your quest.
"Nothing." You scratch your cheek as you reach the far door, frowning thoughtfully.
"That's alright," Lalida reassures you. "We can [[keep looking->explore]]." (set: $stablesearch to true)](if: $wagon is false)[The armory's door isn't locked, but as you duck inside, you see why. All the sharp things have been put away, locked into cases you can't get into.
The bows, though-- The practice bows are out, as are the arrows, waiting for any idle hands to pick them up and work on their aim. You walk along the row, marveling at your options, though most of the bows are taller than you'll be for at least a year or two.
The range is empty, the butts unused, and you've got no adults around to stop you. Now's your chance to [[start shooting->bow]], when no one's here to tell you you're too small for it.
You glance around before you reach for the bow.
] (if: $wagon is true)[(if: ($name is true) and ($family is true) and ($why is true) and ($wagon is true))["Oh!" She sounds delighted. "I love archery! Show me!"
You can't help a relieved smile as you turn, gesturing for her to come along.
]Lalida follows you through the post cheerfully, skipping gracefully over the puddles and muck.
"Here," you say, opening the armory door. "Bows."
She walks in as if she's queen of the place, finding the bows right away and scanning them with an expert eye.
"These are all a bit too long for us," she says, turning to look at you. "Do you know where we might find a crate?"
](if: ($wagon is true) and ($ciderhouse is true))[You recall the empty crates in the cider house, and you nod.
"Yeah," you say, gesturing for her to follow. "[[Come with me.->cider house]].](if: ($wagon is true) and $ciderhouse is false)[You hesitate, considering your options.
"Cider house, maybe? Smokehouse?" You shrug, noncommital. "There's always an empty crate somewhere around."
"Let's go find out!" Lalida is off in a whirl of skirts, grabbing your hand to begin [[your search->explore]]. (set: $cratesearch to true)](if: $trouble is true)[You're not terribly surprised that the woman doesn't chase you down. All the strong runners are on the hunt, and she's got a herd of children to wrangle.](if: $trouble is false)[You pick up pace once you're a safe distance from the fuss, skipping over puddles to try and keep your clothes from getting even more mussed.]
Once the shouts are distant, you stop to catch your breath. The air smells like rain again, a pleasant threat of another downpour.
You're a mess, and the mud's starting to dry on your skin. It might be worth a covert trip to the [[baths->clean]], but if you [[wander->explore]] and wait a while, you may be able to avoid being spottd by one of the adults. The rain is beating down as you scurry across the small gap between the laundry and bathhouse, though you're spared a drenching by the small roof they've put up against such weather.
You're put to work with a tub and brush on one side of the small spring, the pile of muddy clothes before you. The women are gossiping as they work, but they're attentive enough to snap at you when you stop washing.
At long last, the clothes are cleaned, and your hands are red, irritated by the harsh lye.
"Can I go?" You ask, trying not to sound too desperate. "Please?"
They wave you off, somewhat grudgingly, and you gratefully hurry into the open air.
The rain has subsided to a soft misting while you've been inside, and it won't make [[wandering around->explore]] unpleasant. You could climb the [[walls]] instead, if the bored watchers don't chase you off. It would give you a good view of both the boring fields outside and whatever might be afoot within the post.
The baths are a hot spring enclosed by walls and a roof, the floor inside scraped to bare rock and worn nearly smooth by who knows how many years of moving water. You can smell the odd mineral scent long before you reach the door.
(if: $trouble is true)["Tavi!"
You cringe at the sound of the maid's voice. So much for that idea.
"Get out of those filthy clothes and come help me wash these little trolls." She sounds exasperated, understandably. "And you'll be washing up all these clothes, young lady, after that little escape stunt you pulled."
It takes nearly an hour, but by the time all the children are cleaned up, you've also lost your coating of dirt.
Once you braid your hair and put on something dry, you're shoved off to the [[laundry]], arms piled high with muddy little clothes.] (if: $trouble is false)[The children are causing a scene in the bath, but the women dealing with them are too busy to bother you. You quietly slip into the water, washing up as quickly as you can.
Despite all the splashing and shouting, you manage to get clean without being dragged into helping the women. You tuck your dirty clothes into a hamper, pull on something clean, and slip back out into the open air.
You take a moment to enjoy the quiet outdoors as you braid your hair back. You can hear the watchmen talking. Perhaps there's something worth seeing up on the [[walls]], if [[wandering->explore]] the nearly empty trading post isn't appealing.]
(set:$clean to true)You sneak a few pieces of jerky from a barrel, chewing one and pocketing the rest.
Not much else to do in here. You close up and [[explore]].
(set: $snack to true)(set: $apple to true)
The apples are still firm to the touch, and you can easily slip one into your pocket without fearing it will explode.
There's not much else to look at here. You close the door as you [[leave->explore]]. As you approach the stalls to say hello, the horses seem very interested in your pocket. (if:$apple is true)[You'd make a new friend if you [[share]] your apple with them.](if: $apple is false)[You show the horse (if:$snack is false)[your empty hands](if:$snack is true)[the jerky]. They quickly lose interest.]
It doesn't take you long to greet the few horses left in the stables. You're left standing the aisle, [[looking around->stables]]. It's a short climb to the hayloft, but as expected, there's not much to see up here. The bales of hay have been arranged to make barriers around bedrolls, and you can see the untidy blankets left where the stable kids lay down each night.
They all must be off on the hunt, or off somewhere else on the post, doing gods know what with their rare free time.
You climb [[back down->stables]], careful not to catch any splinters on the rough wood. You pick up the bow and a quiver of arrows, heading out to the range with determination in your steps.
Determination can't account for height, though. You can't even hold it upright without one end scraping the mud.
You can't help huffing, frustrated at this turn of events. You could try to [[shoot]] anyways, or you can try to [[track down->explore]] something to stand on.
(set:$cratesearch to true)(if: $wagon is false)[(if: $crate is false)[With the end of the bow in the mud, your efforts to draw are pathetic, and any arrow you manage to shoot ends up scarcely a yard in front of you after a sorry arc into the air.
It's hopeless. You wonder if you ought to give up on shooting at all today.
If the end weren't in the mud, though... If you had something to stand on, perhaps you could shoot anyways. You just have to [[go find that something->explore]]. (set:$cratesearch to true)
](if: $crate is true)[The crate wobbles on the uneven ground, but you're able to climb up on it, arms outspread for balance as you cautiously rise to your feet.
Once you're certain you won't fall, you can hold the bow without it sticking into the dirt. You feel a small thrill of victory at the success of your plan.
Now you just have to see if you can actually [[shoot->try]].]
](if: ($wagon is true) and ($crate is true))[The crate wobbles on the uneven ground, but you're able to climb up on it, arms outspread for balance as you cautiously rise to your feet.
Once you're certain you won't fall, you can hold the bow without it sticking into the dirt. You feel a small thrill of victory at the success of your plan.
"Scoot over," Lalida says, still standing on the ground. "And I'll show you [[how it's done->teach me]]."
]You nock the arrow and draw the string back the way you've seen the adults do a thousand times before. You point the tip at the target, trying to account for your wobbling hands, and release it.
It falls weakly into the mud a few feet in front of you, feathers pointed at the sky like flags of surrender.
You don't expect to be perfect your [[first time->keep trying]], though you are a little frustrated. Maybe you really are too small to be shooting yet. You pick up another arrow and try again.
Arrow after arrow lands in the mud, each shot as unfortunate as the last. Soon enough the quiver is empty, and you're left standing on the crate, staring at the sad markers of your failures.
You're so frustrated that you want to [[scream]], though a petty [[stomp]] on the crate will do just as well.
"Keep it down, won't you?" A voice speaks from behind you. "They could use you to warn ships off the fog in Stoneport."
Before you can turn to see the speaker, she's walking past you onto the range. She's about your size, though she wears skirts instead of breeches, a light wool hood hiding her face from your view.
She navigates the muddy ground like a dancer, bending down carefully to pick up each of your fallen arrows. Her hair falls out of her cloak as she does, silver curls the color of the overcast sky.
"I think that's all of them."
The girl looks around the field once more, only turning and walking back toward you once she's satisifed she's missed none of the arrows.
(if: $clean is true)["Maybe they'll fly better if you promise not to shout at them again."] (if: $clean is false)["I wouldn't scream again, if I were you. Those matrons were on the prowl for muddy children to scold."]
She offers the arrows to you like a bouquet of fletching, waiting for you to [[take]] them. You realize you're [[staring]] at her like a fool.
(set: $scream to true)"Careful," a voice calls from behind you. "That wood doesn't look very sturdy."
Before you can turn to see the speaker, she's walking past you onto the range. She's about your size, though she wears skirts instead of breeches, a light wool hood hiding her face from your view.
She navigates the muddy ground like a dancer, bending down carefully to pick up each of your fallen arrows. Her hair falls out of her cloak as she does, silver curls the color of the overcast sky.
"I think that's all of them." The girl looks around the field once more, only turning and walking back toward you once she's satisifed she's missed none of the arrows.
(set: $stomp to true)(if: $wagon is false)[She offers the arrows to you like a bouquet of fletching, waiting for you to [[take]] them. You realize you're [[staring]] at her like a fool.] (if: $wagon is true)[She smiles at you, lifting a hand in a wave. You're [[staring]], too transfixed to notice if you've [[waved back]] or not.](if:$wagon is false)[The girl graciously ignores your stare, reaching for the quiver at your feet and neatly tucking the arrows into it.
"If you'd like," she says, tapping the bottom on the crate to even out the bolts. "I could teach you."
"Teach me?"
She smiles up at you, a slight quirk of amusement at one corner of her mouth.
"Teach you how to shoot," she clarifies. "You know. With a bow and arrow."
The idea is tempting, certainly. You glance between the target and your bow, worrying your lower lip with your teeth.
It might be fun to have [[a real lesson->teach me]]. But wouldn't it be rude to take advantage before [[getting to know her->ask]]?
](if:$wagon is true)[Your stare seems to amuse her. Instead of turning to follow her father, she walks around the back of the wagon, coming to stand before you with a little grin.
"My name's Lalida. I won't bite," she says, showing her empty hands to you. "Or hex you, if that's what you're afraid of."
"Oh, no!" You can't deny that quickly enough. "No, I'm not staring because you're-- Because you're an elf."
She doesn't interrupt your embarrassed stammering, though you wish she would.
"I've never seen hair like that," you finally spit out. It's as good an excuse as any. "It's pretty."
She wraps a curl around one finger, a lazy, practiced motion.
"It is," she agrees. "Thanks."
Another awkward pause. You're not sure if you ought to try and [[fill the silence->ask]] or [[introduce yourself->tellname]].
(set: $name to true)
]
The girl graciously relinquishes the bunch of arrows into your hands, holding up the quiver for you to drop them into.
"If you'd like," she says, setting the quiver back on the crate beside you. "I could teach you."
"Teach me?"
She smiles up at you, a slight quirk of amusement at one corner of her mouth.
"Teach you how to shoot," she clarifies. "You know. With a bow and arrow."
The idea is tempting, certainly. You glance between the target and your bow, worrying your lower lip with your teeth.
It might be fun to have [[a real lesson->teach me]]. But wouldn't it be rude to take advantage before [[getting to know her->ask]]?
(if: ($wagon is true) and ($crate is false))["First thing's first," Lalida says brightly. "Where's the range at?"
You start off for the [[armory]], your new friend in tow.
She doesn't say anything as you walk, though when you glance over your shoulder you can see her taking in the surrounding with curious eyes.
](if: $wagon is false)[She climbs onto the crate beside you with a little huff of exertion, straightening up and brushing her skirts off with a single bouncing motion.
"Right!" She says, enthusiastic. "Which side do you write your letters with? Your [[right]] or your [[left]]?"
](if: ($wagon is true) and ($crate is true))[Lalida climbs onto the crate beside you with a little huff of exertion, straightening up and brushing her skirts off with a single bouncing motion.
"Right!" She says, enthusiastic. "Which side do you write your letters with? Your [[right]] or your [[left]]?"]You pause for a moment, trying to sort out your thoughts.
(if: $name is false)["What's your [[name]]?"
] (if: $family is false)[ [["Where's your family?"->family]]
] (if: $why is false)[ [["What're you doing here? At the post, I mean."->what are you doing here]]
](if:$wagon is false)["If you're sure, I wouldn't mind an [[archery lesson->teach me]]."
](if: ($name is true) and ($family is true) and ($why is true) and ($wagon is true))[You've run out of questions that aren't invasive. She's still smiling at you, waiting for you to make your next move.
You've got an idea, at least.
"Do you like archery? I was about to go [[shooting->armory]], if you'd like to come with me."]"I'm Lalida," she replies.
The way she says it makes you think of eating candied oranges, sweet and sharp.
She seems to be waiting for you to [[introduce yourself->tellname]], but you can't imagine that she'll want to know about your boring life. She seems far [[more interesting->ask]].
(set: $name to true)"They're back home," she says, shrugging her shoulders. "Well, most of them. Father's here, of course. He had to drive the cart."
"Where's home, though?" Your home is this boring, muddy trading post. No matter where she's from, it must be more exciting than here.
"Calavin. About ten miles into the woods, I suppose?" She frowns, thoughful. "It's not so interesting, really. Like every other village, but with more trees to walk around."
You try to imagine this trading post littered with trees, large old trunks to climb and huge branches blocking out the sunlight.
"Sounds pretty," you say.
"It is." She's watching you, though you can't tell if she's waiting for you to speak or simply studying you.
You've got more questions to [[fill the silence->ask]](if: $tellfamily is false)[, or the story of your own [[family->tellfamily]] to provide]. (if:$wagon is false)[You've still got your bow, though. Maybe you ought to ask her to [[teach you->teach me]] before someone interrupts your idyll.]
(set: $family to true)"What do most people come here for?" Her tone has a slightly mean edge, not that you can blame her. It is a bit of a silly question.
"We've got furs to sell. Dad let me come along. He said it's because I've never come to the post before, but it's really because mum didn't want me underfoot while she's at her weaving."
"Oh."
You know how that goes. Your mother's chased you out into the open yards a few times to keep you out of her way.
(if:$tellfamily is true)["Is that all, tradesmistress?"](if:$tellfamily is false)["[[What about you->tellfamily]]?"] She asks. (if:$wagon is false)["Or are you just going to stand around [[holding that bow->teach me]] all day?"](if:$wagon is true)["Or have you got [[more questions->ask]]?"]
(set: $why to true)"Tavi," you say. "My name's Tavi."
She tilts her head as you say it, as if she's contemplating the way it sounds.
"That's a pretty name," she decides. "It's nice to meet you, Tavi."
"Nice to meet you, too."
Your cheeks are burning, you realize. Maybe she won't notice if you [[ask]] her about herself. Maybe you ought to just [[keep talking->tellfamily]](if: $wagon is false)[, or [[distract her->teach me]] with archery].
"My mum runs the post."
You wait for her reaction, the expected flash of confusion or surprise. She seems completely unbothered by the idea, though, as if you've simply told her the sky's blue.
"It's just the two of us, and we live here. Feels like the entire placei s family, though, what with how much time we spend together."
(if:$wagon is true)[You try to [[change the subject->ask]] before she can ask about your father.](if:$wagon is false)[The bow feels sweaty in your palm, and you look down, wondering if she's going to ask about your father next. "You'd be the first person to [[teach me]] how to shoot, though." You hold the bow out, as if you're showing it to her. "If the offer's still good."]
(set:$tellfamily to true)You've climbed the ladders up to the ramparts enough to be quick about it, scampering onto the walkway like a cat mounting a shelf.
"Watch ya step," one of watchers calls, though the tone's as lazy as her posture. "Don't need y'mum whipping us 'cause ya broke y'neck."
The wood slats are slippery, but not so slick to merit a true warning.
The fields stretch out for a mile or so before the ground's consumed by trees. There's no sign of the hunt, but it's far too early for them to be back. There's a small wagon coming up the forest road, though. Likely some small fur trader come to sell his wares.
A glance in the opposite direction shows you just how quiet the post is today. Perhaps the most unusual thing is the abandoned archery butts. There's nearly always a few people there, practicing their shots, but it seems they're all on the hunt today.
Without anyone to bother or tease you, it might be a good time to get in some [[practice->armory]].
The gate is creaking open as the wagon approaches. There's a smaller figure perched beside the driver, you notice, though they're wearing a hood to ward off the rain. Could be worth [[investigating->wagon]], even if it just a boring couple with some boring furs. You slide down the ladder as quickly as you climbed up it, dropping the last few feet and barely avoiding a hard landing in a puddle.
The wagon rolls in, a spotted horse with feathered feet leading the way. It's a mare, you see, and as she's pulled to a stop, she shakes her head, raindrops scattering from her mane like diamonds.
The driver ties the reins before hopping down, his hood falling to his shoulders as he turns to his passenger. He's got white hair, white as snow, and you can hear the watchers muttering above you at the sight.
"Elves," a loud one grumbles, grunting as he heaves the crossbar back into place. "Bring good hides, they do."
The man sets the small figure on the ground carefully, helping her smooth down her skirts before he straightens up and heads into the building where your mother does business.
"I will," the small one calls after him, answering some order you didn't hear. They turn to look at you, curious.
It's a girl your age, perhaps a bit older, with bright eyes and hair the color of rainclouds.
"Hello," she says, smiling kindly.
You're speechless, for some reason, and you realize that you're [[gawking->staring]]. Perhaps a [[wave->waved back]] will manage to make this less awkward.
(set: $wagon to true)Your wave seems to amuse her, and you see the white of her teeth as she grins. (if: $wagon is true)[She walks around the back of the wagon to approach, stopping only a few feet in front of you.]
"I'm Lalida," she informs you, tucking her hands behind her back. "What's your name?"
You're trying to remember your manners, remember your own [[name->tellname]], but you may just blurt out [[a question->ask]] anyways.
(set: $name to true) You carefully cut up the apple and give each of the horses a slice, holding your hand flat to avoid any unpleasant bites. They're all very pleased with their treat.
You could go look in the dark [[hayloft]], or just go [[walk around->explore]] more.
(set: $apple to false) (if: $clean is true) [She gently puts her hands on your waist, turning you to the side.] (if: $clean is false) [She gingerly pokes your hip, turning you around. It's obvious she's trying not to get mud all over herself. ]
"This is your stance," she says. "The way you see most of the others do it, I'm sure. Most people favor their right side over their left."
"Oh." You didn't realize it was like writing letters. "What side do you shoot on?"
You can hear the smile in her voice.
"I can do either. You've got to learn one side at a time before you can try that." She pulls your braid back over your shoulder, keeping it out of your way. "Now, show me how you [[aim]]."
(set: $right to true)(if: $clean is true) [She gently puts her hands on your waist, turning you to the side.] (if: $clean is false) [ She gingerly pokes your hip, turning you around. It's obvious she's trying not to get mud all over herself. ]
"This is your stance," she says. "You've got to do things the opposite way, since your right hand's not your best."
"Oh." You didn't realize it was like writing letters. "What side do you shoot on?"
You can hear the smile in her voice.
"I can do either. You've got to learn one side at a time before you can try that." She pulls your braid back over your shoulder, keeping it out of your way. "Now, show me how you [[aim]]."
(set: $left to true)You lift the bow the way you've seen the adults do(if:$left is true)[, mirroring the hunters you see in your mind].
"Pretend to nock your arrow," she says. "Don't pull back, though."
She gently touches your shoulder to lower it, your back to make you straighten your spine.
"Spread your feet a bit wider," Lalida directs. "And relax a bit. You'll get worn out very quickly if you're tense the whole time."
She demonstrates how to [[take a deep breath]]. You're rather distracted by the feeling of her hands on your waist. You copy her deep, slow inhale, feeling the way your muscles ease once you release it.
"There you go," she says. "Now, draw the arrow(if: $doubt is true)[ again]."
You draw, trying to recall her instructions. Line it up, arm straight, string close to your cheek but not so close it will bite when you let it loose.
(if: $doubt is false)[You just have [[let go->fire]]-- or [[tense up->falter]]. ]
(if: $doubt is true)[ You just have to [[believe->fire]] in yourself. ](if: $try2 is false)[You loose the arrow, and it flies--
flies--
and hits the base of the butt with a dull thud.
Lalida claps her hands in delight. "You did it!"
Part of you wants to celebrate with her, but you almost can't believe it. You want to [[try again]] to prove it wasn't a fluke.](if: $try2 is true)[This time, the arrow hits the outer ring of the target proper. Lalida lets out a shout of delight, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around for a hug.
"You did it!" She cries, face bright with joy. "You made the shot!"
You're surprised by the hug, standing stiff and [[awkward]] as you decide whether or not you want to [[return it->hug]].]You hesitate before you let the arrow fly, and it falls short.
"It's alright," she says, reading your disappointment. "You just have to be more confident!"
Do you? You're not sure if you're just [[nervous->take a deep breath]] or if you [[doubt yourself->doubt]].
"Just once more," you say. "Then you can try."
She hands you an arrow. You accept it, letting your hand linger for a moment too long on hers.
She doesn't pull away.
"Just remember," she says, gently pushing the arrow toward you. "[[Deep breath->take a deep breath]], aim, and [[fire]]."
(set: $try2 to true)
She takes the bow, eyes shining with mischief.
"I can't do any tricks," she warns, glancing over her shoulder. "But I can teach them to you later."
"We could switch places?" You offer, attempting to be polite.
She just shrugs.
"I can do either side," she says. "Just watch."
She draws the bow, but you both freeze at the sound of a shout from across the post.
"Damn," she mutters, her rough language a shock to your ears. "I hope that wasn't for me."
You both wait, silent, [[listening->linger]] for a shout you don't want to hear.
(set: $shot to true)You want to impress her. Want those bright eyes to light up again, excited for your success.
"I've never done this before," you confess. "I've only watched."
She tosses her curls. They reflect the overcast daylight like silver silk. "You can do it," she insists. "It takes practice!"
That's what the matrons say about your needlework, too.
Shifting back into your stance, you [[take a deep breath]] and draw.
(set: $doubt to true)"Let me see you shoot," you say, quickly shoving the bow between you.
Lalida seems a bit bewildered by your reaction, but she shrugs it off quickly enough.
[["If you say so."->take a turn]]You return the hug. She smells like rosemary and fresh rain.
You're tempted to [[linger]].
"[[Your turn->take a turn]]," you say once she's caught her breath again. "Show me that fancy elf shooting."
(set: $hug to true)"Lalida!"
Her father is shouting for her. She sighs, easing her (if:$hug is true)[embrace](if:$hug is false)[grip on the bow].
"I've got to go," she explains, voice low with regret. "It's best to be home before dark."
You watch the way her eyes look you over, as if she's trying to memorize your face.
"Oh."
She carefully (if:$shot is true)[sets the bow down](if:($hug is true) and ($shot is false))[sets the quiver down] before hopping off the crate, landing as surely as a dancer.
"Will you be here when we come back?" Lalida tilts her head as she looks up at you. "I imagine it'll only be a few weeks."
You're [[always here]], of course. You live here. "I'm always here," you reply. (if: $tellfamily is false)["My mum's trademistress."]
She beams at the news.
"I'll find you in a few weeks, then."
Her father is shouting again. She turns and runs, pausing to give you a wave before disappearing behind a building.
Perhaps in a few weeks, you'll have some more practice with a bow.
[[Start over.->Rainy Days]]The rainy season's started again, and your crew can't do much in the way of night work when the weather's like this.
Knives or swords or bows for hire, laundresses, witches. They all look the same when they're scuttling back to their tents, leaving their sorry excuses for fires to drown in the rain.
"Hey."
There's a soft hand on your shoulder. A familiar voice.
"Mm?"
Lalida doesn't try to rouse you. Instead, she settles at your side, draping a blanket over your shoulders.
She's smiling out at the misty clearing. Her hair's the same color as the clouds when it's wet, curls limp and darkened to a smoky gray. She slips her hand into yours, leaning her head against your shoulder.
"I love this time of year," she says. "Spring rain always reminds me of [[the day we met->Fifteen Years]]."