Blood is thicker than water

'I leant into his side, smiling to myself when i felt his arm tighten around me'

14 year old Alicia lives in a small village in the 14th century. Trying to discover herself, and the true meaning of love, family and friendship. Along with her best friend Mary and the gorgeous Elias, she faces the horrors of the black death. Will she survive? Will she have anyone left?

'Please... please don't leave me, I don't want to be alone...'


2. Chapter 2

Waking up with the sunrise is never easy, I always want to lie on my straw bed for just a bit longer before starting the backbreaking, finger aching work again.
 As usual mother saw me open my eyes, before I could shut them to get more rest, and pulled me up. “Don't be lazy now we have a lot of work to do before this harvest is over. Come on get up!” My mother shouted from where she had gone back to stirring the bowl of porridge over the fire.

 I pulled my dress on and lumbered sleepily over to the hearth where I realised I was last up. William and father were already eating their breakfast. I took the bowl mother offered me and hungrily swallowed mouthful after mouthful, not caring that it seared my throat. “Happy birthday dear,” my mother said doing up the buttons on my dress. “Your father has your present.” My eyes widened in surprise, another one? “But...” I started. But father shook his head, pulling a ribbon out of his pocket. “It was my mother’s: she got given it when she came of age so now it’s yours.” I smiled at him in thanks, but the shock of the words ‘come of age’ were just sinking in.

 An instant rush of butterflies filled my stomach at the thought of seeing Elias. I smoothed my dress with trembling hands. “Could you put it in for me please mother?” She raked her fingers through my hair gently easy out the tangles, before tying the dark silk ribbon in a neat bow. I took a deep breath to cool my nerves. Ready.

A gust of freezing air hit me in the face as I opened the cottage door and I stepped outside. I looked out at the village, all the tiny cottages just like ours, half of them falling apart. Open sewers ran along the tracks, over flowing with water and filth but I didn’t mind. Thomas farmer from across the lane was already up and herding the oxen from his croft to the fields. He had just finished harvesting the corn and was ready to plough the soil again
The mist that shrouded the hillside was just starting to lift when I reached the field that I was working on. The grass was dewy and my breath blew out in white clouds. I had stopped quite a bit on the way to talk so mother was already working.
I reported to the foreman (one of the lord’s servants) “You’re late!” he snapped grumpy as usual. I walked away from him, too tired to put up with him. He was alright most of the time; he just wasn’t a morning person. I grabbed a scythe and a ball of twine, walked over to the start of a row of bailey and got to work. The bending over made my back ache and tying the sheathes together made my already sore hands bleed. I longed to be at home asleep.

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