The tree swayed closer as the wind blew at full power, scattering the feathers of the chickens out in the yard. The plump, orange birds waddled about in a giddy way, signaling the true start of spring.
I just sat there on and wooden bench in our yard contently. Actually, almost, for the wind was blowing my tight ponytail behind me, and as soon as it died down, my own hair would smack me in the behind; not very funny. But I had much more important matters on my mind.
Ignoring my thoughts, I turned my attention to another matter. I hadn't eaten breakfast, as I was always the first person up in my humble village of Tipa, just before the first golden light of the morning peeked over the bumpy silhouette of the forest in the distance.
My lips were dried and tight. I ran past the chickens, causing them to scatter like their feathers. The path of earth leading towards the lake was always soft and clean in spring. Traces of melted snow remained, but barely enough to get in anyone's way.
I kneeled down at the lake, which was still and reflected the natural world around it so clearly. Everyone in the village knew the water was safe to drink as long as the crystal in the center of Tipa was purified with the liquid myrrh once a year. I put my hands in a cupped position and sipped the water peacefully. It tasted as fresh and cold as winter itself.
"It's quite a nice day outside, isn't it, Mia?" said a familiar haughty voice from behind.
I dropped my handful of water and whirled around once on my feet.
"You're quite right, Andrew," I said while curtsying to him. As much as I hated his guts, I was expected to show him the proper respect, as I was a lady, and a honored part of the Clavat tribe.
The Selkie smirked as I was practically forced to towards the ground. He walked in his own arrogant way next to me. His head was high, his chest was out, but as soon as he stopped, he looked at me with his grayish blue eyes. They were filled with fear and sorrow, something I have never seen possible in him.
I looked at him, but I knew he was digging deep into my own brown eyes. Mother said they looked like dark chocolate, smooth and warm.
My brown eyes matched my long hair, which was in a ponytail tied near the bottom. I wore a simple light-cream colored dress, only one a farmer's daughter would want to wear. I had a soft orange bandana covering the top of my head.
Andrew's eyes matched his own hair too. He had long hair halfway down his back with a claw sticking out at the end, a sign of strength and bravery in a Selkie. His hair made him look feminine, but his chest was as flat as a 13-year-old boy's could be, and it was bare. His tunic seemed like a dress. It was the same color as mine, but much fancier. I didn't have time to describe.
He was half a head taller than me, just because I was twelve and he was thirteen.
"I really wish I was treated like a villager," he confessed. "It's not very pleasant to be praised all the time and treated like a king." He sighed.
I was surprised at his confession. I was jealous of all his special treatment, just because he was our caravaner.
Caravaners go into the dangers of the world to collect drops of myrrh from myrrh trees. They carry a chalice around to collect the drops of myrrh from the tree, and protect them from the dangerous miasma. Contact with the dangerous substance that was in the air causes death. They have to collect the myrrh to have the crystal keep it's mystical power of protecting towns and cities from miasma. If not kept running, miasma would kill the town.
However, each tree has only one drop of myrrh that replenishes once every other year, so the caravaners are always on the move.
There is much I didn't know about the job, but I did know it contained a lot of honor, because it was so important and dangerous.
Every year that Andrew returned, the whole village would celebrate and he would be welcomed and honored and honored and honored. It wasn't that I wanted to be a caravaner, because I was a coward and a pushover, but because everyone forgot about me. I was the one who cared for the animals and crops, and that means that I provide the village's fruits, vegetables, and poultry.
"I get lonely on my trips too, and terribly homesick. The job is very tough for one person, and usually two or three caravaners travel together for one village."
"Your point is...?" I snapped.
He blushed, not a thing he usually did around me. Stammering he forced the words out of his mouth. "I want you to come with me and be my partner on my journey," he said.