When I finally wake up; my ears focus into the sound of the villagers chopping wood. The light from the sun shines in through the window, reflecting on a silver bowl that is sat neatly beside the statue of a deer, one which my father carved for me 3 years ago. My father was known for being one of the best wood carvers in Calazaruth and he would often spend hours of his time perfecting his creations. I swing my legs off the bed and stand up on the cold concrete floor that lines my bedroom. I slowly stagger to a pile of clothes and ruffle through to find some decent clothes to wear. Even though my father was ruler of Calazaruth; you wouldn't think that I was his daughter; I would much rather dress in a pair of ripped trousers, a worn out blouse, shove on a pair of boots, force my hair into a pony tail; finish it off with a flower delicately pushed into the side and then spend the day trekking through the forest, discovering new plants and weeds and uncovering nature. Sadly, my father despised this image and always expected me to ‘dress up’, even though he knew how much I hated it. What can I wear? I ask myself. My hand slides over the material of the dress I wore yesterday, it was a dark red the colour of a ruby, the silk was as rough as a crocodile, the dress however was warm as it had been placed beneath all the other items of clothing and lingerie. Unable to find anything suitable to wear in the pile, I head over to my wardrobe and put on a green dress made of silk, with gold embroidered patterns covering the top of the dress and gold cuffs at the end of the sleeves. Some would most likely say it was the ugliest dress they had ever seen; I would most likely agree with them. I put my hair up into a bun and push a white flower into my hair on the right side to add decoration; I slip into a pair of comfortable shoes and spray a tiny little amount of perfume onto my neck and head downstairs.
My father Arthur had already prepared breakfast and left it on the table for me to find. Cheese, cheese again. Nearly every morning there would be a fresh loaf of bread, some goats cheese and a glass of milk laid out on the table. The table is solid oak, it was another of my father's creations. Most mornings I would eat two slices of bread, drink a glass of milk and give the cheese to one of the children who would often be outside. My father never knew, but to be honest I'm sure he wouldn't mind even if he did find out. The villagers were never quite as lucky as us; they would often find it hard to put dairy products on the tables in their households the most common for them was milk, that is why I loved giving cheese to the children, simply so they could taste it once because they might never have the opportunity to have it again.
I drink my milk and then wonder slowly outside to find my father, the whistling wind hits me like the wondering, wavering ocean crashing against the cliffs on the coast of Calazaruth, the breeze is cold, so cold it sends shivers escalating up my spine; it is so cold that it touches the bones that provide a structure for my fragile body. The sun was rather low in the sky, meaning that it hadn't long arose from beneath the shadows and that it had only recently started it's tour of the day- this day being 23rd May 1982. I hear the usual greetings from the villagers.
‘Good morning Alexis!’
I look over and scan the forest, there’s a slight rustling in the trees before a blackbird emerges from the opening and perches itself on the ground, it’s clearly savaging for nuts. Two children silently approach the bird not wanting to scare it off, mesmerised by its beauty one holds out his hands; offering what the bird wants, the blackbird creeps closer placing one foot onto the little boys hand and starts pecking away at the food it so wildly craved. Before long two more birds have flown down to have a taste of the delicious treats. I walk a little further to find a woman seeing to her chickens.
‘ I'm trying to plump up this one for next Sunday.’
‘Good luck with that’
‘Thank you dearie; I might need it at this rate’
I found my father at the apple tree with two of his men William and Aeduiin. For weeks my father had been having secret meetings with them both; often I would need to speak to my father and it would have to wait until later as he was attending ‘business’ But by the time my father had finished I was either fast asleep or I had forgotten what I needed to ask him. I approached my father, hoping that no one would turn me away.
‘Morning darling; did you eat your breakfast?’
‘Yes I did; why wouldn’t I have?’
‘Well quite a few children have been tugging on their mum’s skirts and saying how lovely cheese is’
‘I saw that too Arthur’ Aeduiin said. I saw William and my father smirk.
‘Alexis can you feed the horses; I’ll be home soon’
‘Sophie’s already fed the horses; she did them this morning while I was getting changed.’
Sophie was one of my dad’s servants, she was like my sister; she often told me about her childhood, she had quite a dark past and every time she told her story she would get flashbacks and she could never say no more and would simply bury her head in her chest and carry on working.
’Still I want you to go back, harvest some nuts, speak to the villagers, and do whatever needs to be done.’
Once again my father was forcing me away. Of course I had to do as my father wished or there would be punishment in store, I decided that I should clean off my boots for when I go hunting in the forest later as I always do in the afternoon. As I turned my back on my father, I heard one name, and it was a name no one ever wanted to hear. ‘Mara’