Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tamora Pierce related (except her books of
course) but I don't steal. So, if you read this story don't steal my
characters or ideas. Okay? Thankies.
The beginning...
Sarai looked around her, not knowing what to do. She saw the men emptying the house and packing away her family's fortunes. She almost cried when they beat her grandfather, who knelt on the ground in front of them. They had her entire family kneeling in the mud in front of them. The rain beat down is huge sheets. The storm had come the morning before and wouldn't stop for the all the stars in the sky. Sarai hid behind a large log on the other side of the dirt walkway that was considered a road. She had gone to the city to bring back some grain and milk for baking bread for dinner but had returned to see what had happened.
The thieves had come swiftly and unnoticed. Her family had been caught unaware and she held herself responsible since she was supposed to be home that morning, and her mother in the city. But as it happens, her little brother had gotten sick the night before and had forced Sarai to go to the city for her mother. But looking on now, Sarai could see her brother shivering with fever, her mother with tired eyes from weeping, and her grandfather shaking from cold kneeling in the cold mud as they got soaked through.
"Aye men, let's be goin'." One of the ten men said as he came out of their humble shack. "The're aint nothin' here." He walked up to his horse and looked at Sarai's family. "Kill 'em." Sarai looked on with horror as a few of the other men drew daggers and attacked her family. She almost screamed when she saw her grandfather. He had seen her, and he shook his head slightly as they came forward to kill them. "Wait, dunt kill the auld one. He'll die of cold soon 'nough." The men mounted their horses and rode away.
Sarai couldn't look at the bodies of her mother and brother. She was in tears as she slowly approached her grandfather. He was still kneeling in the mud, but the shakes in his shoulders no longer were just from the cold.
"Oh grandfather, what shall we do? Poor mother and dear little Johnny." She cried flowing hot tears as she helped her grandfather to stand. She looked at the bodies and saw the rain splatter the blood on their faces.
"We do nothin'. We mun get outta here." Her grandfather disappeared into the house. Sarai followed him and gasped at the wreckage. The straw beds had been cut open and strewn about, the dishes broken and all of their metals taken. She carefully raised the floorboards near her bed and sighed with a little relief. Her mother's jewelry and her father's old sword and bow were still there.
"Where do we go?" Sarai looked around and saw her books open with some pages torn out. She carefully collected her belongings and found an old grain sack and stuffed them into it.
"We go away, far away. We mun go to Tortall. They be safer places fer us to live." Her father had spoken of such actions before her died those many years ago. Sarai, now eighteen, remembered her father when he was alive, but only barely.
"But grandfather, how can we go there? We have no money, no means to stay alive." She cried again. "And how can we just leave mother and Johnny like that?"
"There aint anythin' we cun do fer dem." Her grandfather came over to her, with a similar sack full of belongings.
"Well, there is one thing we can do. You need to change into dry clothes." Her grandfather disappeared to his part of the shack as Sarai looked out the window. She knew that when they do get to a city, she would have to do the talking; her grandfather's country talk could get them nowhere. Hopefully an educated tongue would help better. They won't take us for granted, at least not as much if my grandfather spoke.
"We mun go." Her grandfather appeared with a large rain hat he used on the farm and a sturdy water proof cloak that was identical to the one Sarai was wearing.
"Okay." Was all Sarai said she closed the door behind them, and thought of a life away from Tyra, and one of Tortallan ideals and experiences.
The beginning...
Sarai looked around her, not knowing what to do. She saw the men emptying the house and packing away her family's fortunes. She almost cried when they beat her grandfather, who knelt on the ground in front of them. They had her entire family kneeling in the mud in front of them. The rain beat down is huge sheets. The storm had come the morning before and wouldn't stop for the all the stars in the sky. Sarai hid behind a large log on the other side of the dirt walkway that was considered a road. She had gone to the city to bring back some grain and milk for baking bread for dinner but had returned to see what had happened.
The thieves had come swiftly and unnoticed. Her family had been caught unaware and she held herself responsible since she was supposed to be home that morning, and her mother in the city. But as it happens, her little brother had gotten sick the night before and had forced Sarai to go to the city for her mother. But looking on now, Sarai could see her brother shivering with fever, her mother with tired eyes from weeping, and her grandfather shaking from cold kneeling in the cold mud as they got soaked through.
"Aye men, let's be goin'." One of the ten men said as he came out of their humble shack. "The're aint nothin' here." He walked up to his horse and looked at Sarai's family. "Kill 'em." Sarai looked on with horror as a few of the other men drew daggers and attacked her family. She almost screamed when she saw her grandfather. He had seen her, and he shook his head slightly as they came forward to kill them. "Wait, dunt kill the auld one. He'll die of cold soon 'nough." The men mounted their horses and rode away.
Sarai couldn't look at the bodies of her mother and brother. She was in tears as she slowly approached her grandfather. He was still kneeling in the mud, but the shakes in his shoulders no longer were just from the cold.
"Oh grandfather, what shall we do? Poor mother and dear little Johnny." She cried flowing hot tears as she helped her grandfather to stand. She looked at the bodies and saw the rain splatter the blood on their faces.
"We do nothin'. We mun get outta here." Her grandfather disappeared into the house. Sarai followed him and gasped at the wreckage. The straw beds had been cut open and strewn about, the dishes broken and all of their metals taken. She carefully raised the floorboards near her bed and sighed with a little relief. Her mother's jewelry and her father's old sword and bow were still there.
"Where do we go?" Sarai looked around and saw her books open with some pages torn out. She carefully collected her belongings and found an old grain sack and stuffed them into it.
"We go away, far away. We mun go to Tortall. They be safer places fer us to live." Her father had spoken of such actions before her died those many years ago. Sarai, now eighteen, remembered her father when he was alive, but only barely.
"But grandfather, how can we go there? We have no money, no means to stay alive." She cried again. "And how can we just leave mother and Johnny like that?"
"There aint anythin' we cun do fer dem." Her grandfather came over to her, with a similar sack full of belongings.
"Well, there is one thing we can do. You need to change into dry clothes." Her grandfather disappeared to his part of the shack as Sarai looked out the window. She knew that when they do get to a city, she would have to do the talking; her grandfather's country talk could get them nowhere. Hopefully an educated tongue would help better. They won't take us for granted, at least not as much if my grandfather spoke.
"We mun go." Her grandfather appeared with a large rain hat he used on the farm and a sturdy water proof cloak that was identical to the one Sarai was wearing.
"Okay." Was all Sarai said she closed the door behind them, and thought of a life away from Tyra, and one of Tortallan ideals and experiences.