Thank you all muchly for reading... ;; It really has taken me forever to get this done.. Just been real busy lately.. The rest should be a bit faster. Good news, neh?
The story started with a pretty smile on a pale girl's face. "I'm assuming you know where Milk Road is? And how it ends in that small ranch that's name has been passed down to a small red-headed girl? I've heard from my friend Cremia that you in fact are rather familiar with Romani..." But this wasn't the point of her story.. Time was short, and this was long.. She'd have to delve right into it.
"I lived there in that small house. It's a wonder that both families seemed both to live in that one-roomed pile of logs and bricks, but it was cozy, and we managed well enough." But she was dawdling.
Life consisted of breezy happiness, dog races, cows' milk, and balloon hunting... But I'm afraid it was the kind of bliss that seems to always be sucked dry with time; not lasting or very strongly supported. But it is flaws in not the stars but in ourselves that make things go wrong.
I don't remember why we left.. But we did. A falling out of peaceful ties between the two amiable families that occupied such small space.
I was barely seven years old when my parents ripped me from the life I'd always known and threw me into a town with more people, more business, more general action and bustle than I'd ever imagined possible.
I was a stubborn little girl.. And on moving day I refused even to carry my own belongings to the cart, in hopes that if I didn't cooperate, they'd leave me. That seemed best, though foolish. In my small mind I didn't need them.. As long as I had Cremia, everything had to be alright. Naivety I soon lost.
When we got to the East Clock Town gate in Termina Field the guards told us our horses weren't allowed to go any further, so we had to unload there. At this point -after a long ride that had been nothing but boredom and glaring at everything in my sight out the back of our cart- my temper had very much dwindled, but I was still addressing my mother as 'mother' and not, 'mama' as was customary for me at that age. What maddened me further was that she simply laughed these things off.. My tantrums in the back leading to luggage being strewn about, even clothes being torn and pots being dented. She just laughed, as if she understood everything I didn't!
Chuckled my woes away as if I were some little piece of dust totally and completely irrelevant to her! And this was my own mother, not some critical wench I'd poured my heart out to, or a thief that refuses to take pity in any pain the human race may come asunder.
Fuming, I sat as my mother and father unloaded our cart, listening to my grandmother ramble on about the last time she'd visited Clock Town. I refused to talk to them, simply would not participate in their work of taking boxes and setting them on the ground.
Instead, in my childish and yet rather hateful ponders, I saw from the corner of my eye a flash of blue topple off a tree branch onto the ground. Frowning in confusion, all other thoughts fleeing from my mind, I hopped off the back of the carriage and made my way over to the tall grass surrounding the tree I'd seen the movement from.
I honestly thought I was to encounter some kind of bird... Not stopping to think once that it could be dangerous. It was true that one day when I was much smaller I had wandered beyond our ranch borders and came across a Wolfo.. But thinking they only came out at night, I didn't stop my ascent towards whatever it was that had fallen out of the tree.
What I saw wasn't a wolfo, or a deku -which were more widely seen in town those ten years ago- or even a bird of some kind.. It was a boy. He was rubbing his head of full, dark blue hair while looking up at the tree resentfully. I'd guess that he heard a rustle in the grass and looked up to see the seven year old me looking rather shocked to see him. In fact, the very surprised expression was nearly exactly mirrored on both of our small, immature faces; except that where mine turned to a naive worry, his turned red in embarrassment.
"Are you.. Alright?" The small me asked this boy on the ground, not moving to offer him help in fear he may have.. Yelled or something. I'd interacted with boys my age before, but none lived on the ranch, so it wasn't often. I was only seven, besides, and was not yet able to distinguish any difference or discrimination between the two genders. It was just unusual, that's all.
He nodded the affirmative, maybe a little too vigorously to be quite believable, for he was rubbing his leg with one hand and hesitating to get up.
"You sure?" I pressed on, frown creasing my young brow.
He nodded again, getting up slowly, groaning. "Thanks.." Of course, being his small age of eight, his voice was small and high; even more so with the pain he was so obviously hiding.
I smiled slightly, not sure how I could find this funny... I suppose it struck me odd that he didn't just cry out for his mother -as I would have done- or just express his feelings in their more liquid state. But he didn't. He thanked me, and held out his hand. It should have been apparent to me he'd been brought up rather nobly, because both the tone in his voice and gestures as he did so were horribly practiced.
"I'm Kafei." He said softly. This also proved strange to me. It seemed the last thing he would tell me was his name.
"Anju." I answered, still smiling.
I think I may have asked him again if he'd been hurt.. And, despite his hand ever rubbing his thigh, he assured me he was fine.
I accepted his reason -for who would know better if he was okay than him?- and wandered back over to my mother. To my even further surprise, he followed, offering to help us unload.
My spirits had brightened.. It looked like this boy lived close to where we were moving... Maybe things wouldn't be so terrible here..