Hey Guys! It has been called to my attention that the swearing is offending some people, it is just the cahracter and it fits her and also...it is rated T...

Sometimes we do stupid things. Sometimes we think things that should be buried in the back of our minds and that should be forgotten. And sometimes we tell a lie so much that it comes true and when you look back on the situation you can't even remember why you lied- what you lied for, just the lie itself. And sometimes, we find someone else, someone who will cheer you up, someone who knows every part of your soul and still loves you for it. No matter what dark secret you hide…

Chapter One Angst

I tucked the hair in my cap, quickly. I looked up and around. No one had seen. I breathed a sigh of relief and tuned back to my work.

I swung the scythe from side to side, gathering the wheat it chopped down. I whipped my forehead with my hand and stretched my aching back. I put the wheat into the sack on my back and returned to the work. I thought as the endless work continued in the regular repetition. Swing, gather, swing, gather, swing, gather, put in bag, step, swing, gather…

I wasn't supposed to be doing this. I was supposed to be making bread, or cleaning the house. We weren't migratory, like the rest of our people. We stayed in the same place. Only moved if it was absolutely necessary. They said that the gods had blessed us. They said we were the lucky bunch, they said so much that seemed so true.

I tugged a piece of hair again. I didn't like this job, I didn't like it one bit. But my family needed money. One for the things that the priest wouldn't tell us, was that we couldn't leave. We were being housed on an estate. We were the surfs. You couldn't see the castle from here. You had to go up the hill, across the filed and through the wood to see it. There was a road, but that was guarded. No one knew what I did during the day. I did a number of odd jobs. I would cut the wheat, go up to the stables and clean them, or on rare occasions, act as a house maid. But that was once a month, at most. The community was peaceful, everyone followed the rules and the gods were not upset. Everyone was related, some way or another, but that didn't mean anything to us. We were the only ones we had.

I looked into the burning sun, I would have to go soon. I looked at the plot I had been cutting, roughly ten more minutes before it was done. I set back to work. Thinking. I was a woman, and not very old. I had only seen eighteen winters. It was funny for me. I didn't like the work that the women had to do, so I dressed up as a man and worked with them. Most of the time anyway. I made a better boy than a girl. It was always entertaining for me when I walked in from the fields and all of the girls from the village tried to follow me, or get my attention. But I knew all of their tricks. I was one of them. I would ignore it and walk to the woods, to creek, where I would wash and change.

I looked at my plot, my thoughts suddenly ending. It was done. I gatheredup my bags and went to the guards. They weighed my stock and paid me the appropriate amount of shillings. I went to the village along the dirt road. It was a busy day. All of women were working. At that thought I felt a wave of relief loosen up my tense muscles.

I went to the creek. I bathed and washed off all of the dust and grime. I got out of the cool water and pulled on a white skirt and white blouse. Over top the blouse I wore a green bodice. And over the skirt I wore a green apron. I braided my thigh long hair into braids, like a good little girl. I secured the ends with pieces of green ribbon. I walked through the forest, picked mushrooms, and obscure berries.

I came through the door of our modest cottage. My mother came over to me from the little kitchen.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

My face formed a mask and I checked my emotions. I went to the wooden table in the center of the room. I pulled out a chair and sat down with my basket in front of me. I lightly folded my hands in my lap and waited. My mother came over and took the seat opposite of me.

She was a tired woman, older looking than her 38 years. Her wheat colored face had worry lines etched into her forehead. She did have a lot to worry about though, a husband and three girls. I studied her face closer, picking out things that I now noticed because I was older. I could see traces of her when she had been my age and younger, the feature that's made my father fall in love. Her green eyes were sharper than ever, sharpened by many years knowledge, her full pink lips refused to give way to harsh summer and winter winds, and the final thing that won my father over, her mind. It was as witty and cleaver as it had ever been, even when she had been 18, like myself. She folded her hands in front of her and her mouth twisted into a smile. A warning flashed behind my eyes.

"What have you been doing dear?" she asked me in a tone that was meant to take me off my guard, but I knew better, after all we went through this almost every day.

"Collecting berries and visiting the dogs," I responded blandly, only because it was the exact same answer as yesterday.

She raised her brows at me answer, "Really? What did you find?"

I thought it over. I let a happy note and a wistful tone enter my voice as I prepared my speech, but that wasn't necessary. A hopeless romantic attack seized me and I talked, "I found blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, and strawberries. The dogs are excellent! Oh, mother, you should have seen the forest! The way the light fell through the tree boughs, dappling the ground, turning the grass the greenest green I have ever seen! Oh, it made the stream look so clear! It was so beautiful! And the ivy is in bloom, it is red this year! Who would have guessed?" I stopped, breathless, my romantic attacked slowly releasing me out of its grip. I gazed at my mother, the picture I painted present within the room, for I could see the grass color and hear the stream, feel the heat of the sun. My mother's eyes were glazed over, seeing the picture I had just painted in front of her. A brief smiled twisted her mouth and glazed look disappeared.

"You were at the kennel, then why is your hair wet?" she asked, the same note as before in her voice.

"Well, I was there this morning. And my hair is wet because I bathed." I replied, my guard back up.

She let out a small sigh, "I am far from believing you, but your going to get away with it, this time at least. Now get started on dinner, your father and sisters will be home soon."

I nodded my head and set out the back door. I had done it again, I had gotten away with it.

A/N Okay so this is my first fanfic, so no harsh flames please. I like criticism though, constructive criticism. So I'm not going to update, unless I get some reviews or other such things. So if this turns out to be a hit, I'll try to update a lot. It will be a good story I promise. Suggestions are welcome and I'm sorry about the spelling, I cant spell to save my life. So R&R please!