Chapter 1:
No one bothers to question the fiery-haired girl as she hauls a bulging potato sack through the dusty streets of District 10. She's done so hundreds of times and by now, it was just another abnormal normality to add to the list of happenings in the small village. Only, it wasn't potatoes she was transporting in that sack.
"Morning Merida," an old, frail-boned woman calls out to her from her poor excuse of a garden. Merida blows a lock of tangled hair out of her face, turning to wave to the woman without a word, before carrying on.
The midday sun is shielded by low-laying clouds that promise harsh weather in the upcoming weeks, but it's no less humid. Merida can feel the beads of sweat sliding down her lower back but she ignores them.
Almost home, she chants to herself. Almost...
Never in her lifetime did she think that "almost" could have been too long or too far until that moment. A few yards turned into miles and what was only minutes seemed to take up a span of hours. But still, when she kicks open the wooden door to her small house with her bare foot she hears her mother's surprised tone.
"You're home early, Merida dear." She was leaning over a steaming, bronze pot, stirring some sort of broth. The house smelled of hay and mildew with a hint of whatever was for dinner.
"Aye," Merida offers a short confirmation as she steps inside, through their makeshift family room and into the kitchen. She kisses her mother's cheek and takes in a deep, satisfying breath. "What are you making?" She asks, before tossing the potato sack onto the splintered table.
"Whatever you brought me." Her mother raises an eyebrow at the bag. A sense of pride wells up inside of Merida's chest as she pulls out the result of her days hard work.
"I traded a chicken for one of McLaggen's old pigs," she boasts, pulling out a good sized hog. "His wife threw in some cow's milk too."
"Cow's milk!?" Her mother nearly drops her spoon as she perks up. "I thought old Norda fell ill from some terrible bovine sickness last winter!"
Before Merida can respond, her mother pulls the jug of thick, white liquid from the bag and smiles at it. Cows were rare in District 10 so it wasn't a surprise that she was elated at the thought of warm cow's milk in their oats the next morning.
The next morning...?
A pit opens up in Merida's stomach at the thought. She steadies herself on the edge of the table, trying to clear the nightmarish agony out of her head.
"Tomorrow is the Reaping."
She doesn't mean to say it out loud. In fact, she wasn't really sure that she had said it until she hears the glass jug shatter against the floor.
"Eleanor?" A booming voice echoes into the kitchen as heavy footsteps rattle the windows. Merida's father comes crashing through the door frame, a look of genuine concern painted on his face. "What's going on in here?"
"Mom, I-" Merida opens her mouth, not one hundred percent sure that she actually knows how to respond, but is cut off.
"Clumsy!" Her mother lets out a nervous laugh. "Fergus, I'm getting clumsy in my old age." She never looks at her daughter, but rather sweeps past her and grabs the broom. The awkward silence that follows is almost too much for Merida. She bends down, picking up the larger pieces of glass and tossing them into the trash bin. The warm puddle of milk seeps between her toes.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, without looking at her mother. She half doesn't expect and answer as she stands and moves to grab a wash rag to soak up the accident.
What else can I say? It's not like I had lied.
"Merida..." Her mother sighs, dumping the pile of glass into the bin. "let me clean this up. It's my mess." It's not exactly the answer she was looking for but Merida can tell that her mom just wants to brush it off and forget that anything was even said, but the lack of eye contact makes Merida feel even worse. She frowns, but says nothing.
She's out the door not a minute later, deciding it's best to just let it go. Her mother had always been touchy when it came to the subject of the Reaping, no doubt why she had gotten so shaken up this year in particular. It's not fear that cripples her, it's grief. This was the year that Merida's younger brothers were all of age to be reaped. She feels that pit again as it gurgles inside of her. She tries to ignore it but the feeling is persistent.
"I have to be brave," she mutters as she walks in the direction of the stables. "If not for me, for them. They don't need to see me afraid." But her little pep talk doesn't help much.
There are other people in the barn when she arrives as there usually were; mostly farmers tending to their goats or young men hanging around, pestering the chickens. Merida rolls her eyes, passing a group of particularly noisy boys and pulls her leather saddle off of her family's designated gate. As she hauls it toward her horses stall, she hears a stifled scoff.
"Need help, little girl." Merida doesn't acknowledge the tallest boy's jeer. She knows him all too well: A notable jerk in District 10. The year he became old enough to be included in the reaping, he actually had the audacity to boast about it to her, as if it made him more important than her.
The boy doesn't give in after Merida ignores him.
"Should you really be getting your dress dirtied like that, babe? All for a pony ride."
She clenches her fist around the leather strap of the saddle in annoyance.
"Just leave her alone Snotlout."
Merida blinks in confusion, her muscles relaxing as she tosses the saddle onto her black Friesian's back.
"Relax Hiccup, we're just having a bit of fun, right, Red?" Snotlout raises his voice at the last bit especially for Merida. Frustrated, she throws her leg up into the saddle and over her horses back.
"I guess we have different definitions of the word 'fun'," the boy called Hiccup speaks up again. Merida knows him, but not well enough for her to feel that his input is justified. She watches as he moves awkwardly away from the group of boys and toward a stall of his own.
"Fine, go play cowgirl with Red," Snotlout teases and gives a haughty laugh. The other boys around him laugh along, obviously too stupid to think for themselves. Hiccup's face flushes bright red as he slinks into the stall with his horse.
Merida leans in and strokes her horses mane.
"Angus," she whispers, "Make them wish they never called you 'pony'."
She digs her heals into Angus' ribs and clutches his mane tightly. The horse rears, letting out a bellowing whinny before crashing through the open stall. He snorts in excitement as Merida clicks her tongue.
Angus stampedes through the barn, barreling toward the main gate and the boys clustered in front of it.
"Look out!" They all seem to shout in unison as they dive out of the way of her stallion's massive hooves. Merida hoots with laughter as she rides away from the stables, feeling the humid air whip against her cheeks.
"Good one Angus!"
The sky is still a musty gray color, but the grassy, rolling hills that were unique to District 10 were calling to her and how could she not answer? Here, Merida feels free. Out in the early evening air, she can leave behind the fear of the days to come. Her messy, red locks brush her face as she rides.
In that moment, Merida almost feels brave enough to face the reaping.
Almost.
Author's Notes:
DUN DUN DUN! Introductions are always slow! It'll pick up soon I promise!
Chapter 2 should be out by Monday! ((If I'm feeling productive))