DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters belong to Tamora Pierce and are used here without permission for no personal gain.
Part 3: Leaving Town
My mother died when I was only six years old and with her died any remaining love for our home in Yorvan. She died near the end of winter, and all around the world lay under a deep white blanket. I was too weak to walk, so my father had to carry me to the funeral. I remember how cold it was, and how my tears left streaks of ice on my cheeks.
After that, all I could think about was leaving. My father seemed to disappear after my mother's death. My older brother Alba worked and studied constantly. My younger sister Madi was too active a companion for me and entertained herself. So I was left alone to brood and study and feel the tug of the plants on me.
Those years run together, years when we all seemed to live in a frozen tomb. We were ghosts in that big palace drifting about listlessly and silently through the empty halls. Day after day I struggled to live in that dead land. How I survived I don't know. I caught every cold that drifted inside. I spent years of my life lying in bed, fighting just to breathe.
And yet I made it. Finally the day came when I would be ready to go to Winding Circle to study to be a dedicate. I couldn't wait to leave the cold lands of my childhood for the warm, lush lands of Emelan. I felt like I was finally getting ready to live.
Before I left, I stood on a hill near the palace, watching the grass blow in the wind. I had dreamed about leaving this place for so long, but now that I was about to do so, I found myself having mixed feelings.
I did not notice my father's approach until he sat down next to me. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, waving his hand to encompass the meadows.
I turned to look at him. He didn't look as pale and tired as he usually did, but he still looked worn and old.
"Yes," I answered.
"Not as nice as Winding Circle, but...it is home."
I could hear the strain in my father's voice. "What's wrong, Father?"
He didn't answer right away. "Your mother would be so happy for you. She hated it here. I shouldn't have made her come, but...but this is my home." He paused again. "I'm sorry that I made you grow up here, Nikolai."
I didn't know what to say. I had always hated living here, but...
"This is my home, Father," I said. The words shocked me, but I saw the truth in them. This harsh, cold climate had made me like the grasses before us--fragile, yet with an inner strength that made them cling to life. That strength had been made an integral part of who I was. I would not have chosen to live here, but it shaped me as much as my love for plants.
My father smiled then, a real smile, but one that revealed his weakness to me.
"You should go inside, Father. You should rest."
I rose to help him up, but before we went inside I looked out at the rolling hills and plains below. Tomorrow I would leave Olart, but it would always be inside of me.
Part 3: Leaving Town
My mother died when I was only six years old and with her died any remaining love for our home in Yorvan. She died near the end of winter, and all around the world lay under a deep white blanket. I was too weak to walk, so my father had to carry me to the funeral. I remember how cold it was, and how my tears left streaks of ice on my cheeks.
After that, all I could think about was leaving. My father seemed to disappear after my mother's death. My older brother Alba worked and studied constantly. My younger sister Madi was too active a companion for me and entertained herself. So I was left alone to brood and study and feel the tug of the plants on me.
Those years run together, years when we all seemed to live in a frozen tomb. We were ghosts in that big palace drifting about listlessly and silently through the empty halls. Day after day I struggled to live in that dead land. How I survived I don't know. I caught every cold that drifted inside. I spent years of my life lying in bed, fighting just to breathe.
And yet I made it. Finally the day came when I would be ready to go to Winding Circle to study to be a dedicate. I couldn't wait to leave the cold lands of my childhood for the warm, lush lands of Emelan. I felt like I was finally getting ready to live.
Before I left, I stood on a hill near the palace, watching the grass blow in the wind. I had dreamed about leaving this place for so long, but now that I was about to do so, I found myself having mixed feelings.
I did not notice my father's approach until he sat down next to me. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, waving his hand to encompass the meadows.
I turned to look at him. He didn't look as pale and tired as he usually did, but he still looked worn and old.
"Yes," I answered.
"Not as nice as Winding Circle, but...it is home."
I could hear the strain in my father's voice. "What's wrong, Father?"
He didn't answer right away. "Your mother would be so happy for you. She hated it here. I shouldn't have made her come, but...but this is my home." He paused again. "I'm sorry that I made you grow up here, Nikolai."
I didn't know what to say. I had always hated living here, but...
"This is my home, Father," I said. The words shocked me, but I saw the truth in them. This harsh, cold climate had made me like the grasses before us--fragile, yet with an inner strength that made them cling to life. That strength had been made an integral part of who I was. I would not have chosen to live here, but it shaped me as much as my love for plants.
My father smiled then, a real smile, but one that revealed his weakness to me.
"You should go inside, Father. You should rest."
I rose to help him up, but before we went inside I looked out at the rolling hills and plains below. Tomorrow I would leave Olart, but it would always be inside of me.