Please note: the majority of the characters are the creations of Tamora
Pierce, as is the location of the story.
"Goodnight!" Stella called after her father, but he didn't answer and her voice echoed eerily through the barn. She looked at her brother, Luke and shrugged. He shrugged back. Then she sat back down at the table and finished her meal. After she had finished eating she covered her father's plate with a towel and made Luke help her do the dishes ( family arguments had a way of becoming rather horse-like with lots of head nodding and stamping for emphasis.)
Finally she said goodnight to her brother in the traditional way they had established since their mother's death. She bent down and kissed his forehead, then bent down so he could kiss her forehead, and then hugged him. She bit her lip to avoid crying as she realized this might be the last time she said goodnight to her brother in a long time.
Stella walked into her room, glanced out the tiny window at the fading dusk, and sighed softly. Then a strange calm came over her as she dug her letter to her father out from underneath her pillow. She set it on top of the bed, right in the center, where he couldn't miss it. Stella buried her nose in between her pillow and the quilt her mother had made long ago and tried to imagine her mother's scent; a soothing combination of rosemary and honeysuckle, that had calmed her upsets early in life.
"Goodbye, ma," she whispered. Then she sat down on a corner of the bed and wrung her hands rather nervously, waiting for her father to return. Dusk had long since darkened into night when he returned. She nearly jumped as she heard him speaking, probably to Golfin. His voice was rough and low, growl-like.
"…No! I most certainly will not. I've done many things in my life, some of which I'm proud of, some of which I'm not, but whatever else I may be I am no traitor. I won't even consider it!"
Stella stood on tiptoe, startled and slightly puzzled. Then she saw her father's shadowy form enter his own room and heard him getting into bed. She sank back down onto her heels and took three deep calming breaths, as she had been taught by Daine. Then, as carefully and as quietly as was possible, flinching as her nervous mind magnified ever sound she made, she gathered up her bow and arrows and saddlebags. She hastened down the ladder, freezing only once as it creaked beneath her feet. She didn't dare to move or breath for a long moment, then hearing no unusual noises she pressed on.
Pinecone was entirely aware of her intentions and shared her pent up excitement, twitching his ears and whisking his tail in anticipation. He even cooperated as she hurriedly saddled him and ducked his ears into the bridle.
She almost quit and went back to her room as she hesitated while leading him out of the stall. This is probably the stupidest, most irresponsible thing I have ever done, she thought, but on the other hand, I have too, I'll go crazy if I don't. She nodded to herself, and slowly walked forward.
The night air was exhilarating as she led, Pinecone out of the stables and slunk of the palace grounds. Although everything was silent, she could have sworn the stars were singing. The moon seemed to be watching her, calmly, peacefully, and motherly yet in a completely nonjudgmental way. Maybe, she thought, this isn't such a bad idea.
As soon as she was sure she was clear of the palace grounds, and alone and unwatched in the streets of Corus she mounted Pinecone. She started at a walk. Pinecone instinctively began trotting as they neared the borders of the city. Stella reined in at the signposts. She examined them closely and then shivered. She had been planning to head south, maybe to Irontown, but now, suddenly she had the strangest impulse to head north, perhaps towards Scranra. She wasn't sure why, but suddenly it seemed important to follow her intuition.
It would be a lie to say that Stella rode off without a backward glance, for she set off at a brisk trot and had many backward glances, some wistful, and some disdainful, before her home was out of sight and she urged Pinecone into a canter.
Then, Stella got a head full of night air and freedom. Her joy only urged Pinecone faster. She learned forward and buried her hands in his mane, holding back the impulse to laugh out loud. A pulse deep inside her body seemed to join Pinecone's hoof beats, and suddenly she had wings across the dark sky. She was fast and invincible. She was free.
"Goodnight!" Stella called after her father, but he didn't answer and her voice echoed eerily through the barn. She looked at her brother, Luke and shrugged. He shrugged back. Then she sat back down at the table and finished her meal. After she had finished eating she covered her father's plate with a towel and made Luke help her do the dishes ( family arguments had a way of becoming rather horse-like with lots of head nodding and stamping for emphasis.)
Finally she said goodnight to her brother in the traditional way they had established since their mother's death. She bent down and kissed his forehead, then bent down so he could kiss her forehead, and then hugged him. She bit her lip to avoid crying as she realized this might be the last time she said goodnight to her brother in a long time.
Stella walked into her room, glanced out the tiny window at the fading dusk, and sighed softly. Then a strange calm came over her as she dug her letter to her father out from underneath her pillow. She set it on top of the bed, right in the center, where he couldn't miss it. Stella buried her nose in between her pillow and the quilt her mother had made long ago and tried to imagine her mother's scent; a soothing combination of rosemary and honeysuckle, that had calmed her upsets early in life.
"Goodbye, ma," she whispered. Then she sat down on a corner of the bed and wrung her hands rather nervously, waiting for her father to return. Dusk had long since darkened into night when he returned. She nearly jumped as she heard him speaking, probably to Golfin. His voice was rough and low, growl-like.
"…No! I most certainly will not. I've done many things in my life, some of which I'm proud of, some of which I'm not, but whatever else I may be I am no traitor. I won't even consider it!"
Stella stood on tiptoe, startled and slightly puzzled. Then she saw her father's shadowy form enter his own room and heard him getting into bed. She sank back down onto her heels and took three deep calming breaths, as she had been taught by Daine. Then, as carefully and as quietly as was possible, flinching as her nervous mind magnified ever sound she made, she gathered up her bow and arrows and saddlebags. She hastened down the ladder, freezing only once as it creaked beneath her feet. She didn't dare to move or breath for a long moment, then hearing no unusual noises she pressed on.
Pinecone was entirely aware of her intentions and shared her pent up excitement, twitching his ears and whisking his tail in anticipation. He even cooperated as she hurriedly saddled him and ducked his ears into the bridle.
She almost quit and went back to her room as she hesitated while leading him out of the stall. This is probably the stupidest, most irresponsible thing I have ever done, she thought, but on the other hand, I have too, I'll go crazy if I don't. She nodded to herself, and slowly walked forward.
The night air was exhilarating as she led, Pinecone out of the stables and slunk of the palace grounds. Although everything was silent, she could have sworn the stars were singing. The moon seemed to be watching her, calmly, peacefully, and motherly yet in a completely nonjudgmental way. Maybe, she thought, this isn't such a bad idea.
As soon as she was sure she was clear of the palace grounds, and alone and unwatched in the streets of Corus she mounted Pinecone. She started at a walk. Pinecone instinctively began trotting as they neared the borders of the city. Stella reined in at the signposts. She examined them closely and then shivered. She had been planning to head south, maybe to Irontown, but now, suddenly she had the strangest impulse to head north, perhaps towards Scranra. She wasn't sure why, but suddenly it seemed important to follow her intuition.
It would be a lie to say that Stella rode off without a backward glance, for she set off at a brisk trot and had many backward glances, some wistful, and some disdainful, before her home was out of sight and she urged Pinecone into a canter.
Then, Stella got a head full of night air and freedom. Her joy only urged Pinecone faster. She learned forward and buried her hands in his mane, holding back the impulse to laugh out loud. A pulse deep inside her body seemed to join Pinecone's hoof beats, and suddenly she had wings across the dark sky. She was fast and invincible. She was free.