Chapter 7: Where pleading requests and frustration lay

Word of my discovery of an animal carcass spread like a raging fire throughout the neighboring community. Hunting and gathering within the forest was not common amongst the neighbors, although I had heard of others hunting in the area. Most people relied completely on trade and the food-allotment from the farms outside of the city. The system was relatively sustainable, except when there were food shortages due to weather problems, or if the Keepers were feeling especially cruel. I did not quite understand how the Masters controlled the system, only that food security was the number one difficulty amongst the lower-class families within the city.

“Yes, Lillie gathered fresh venison for our family,” my mother said in a boastful manner in front of a group of neighbors gathered around her as their unruly young children played Pocket-Ball in the street. I leaned on the railing on our balcony, listening to their conversation just below me.

“I did not know your daughter was a hunter,” Coral, our downstairs older neighbor commented.

“Oh, she didn’t hunt it,” Thabias’ mother, Olga, said, bouncing her baby in her arms. “Lillie told Torrence she found it in the forest. Thankfully Torrence was able to salvage enough to last us the rest of the winter!”

“Regardless of whether or not she hunted it herself,” my mother retorted, darting a dirty look towards Olga, “my daughter can find anything and I can put it to good use.”

“I thought she just gathered sticks from the woods,” Coral said, then coughed into her sleeve. “Perhaps she can find me something for this wretched cough.”

“Lillie is training as a herbalist with a highly esteemed mentor named Jadis,” my mother said. “Jadis originally came from the Kavcii District—oh, I’m sure Lillie could make something for you—for a price—of course.”

“Oh?” Coral mumbled. “If she is finding plants in the forest, why can’t she just give me some?”

“How is my daughter supposed to make a living for herself if she provides her services for free?” my mother asked with a disdaining tone. “Lillie will rise to her own trade soon—you cannot take advantage of my daughter.” Coral coughed, and then pulled her shawl around her shoulders.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said nervously. “I just thought—you know how many times I watched her as a youngin?”

“Only a handful, and I always gave you something in return,” my mother replied while looking away from the older woman who often was kind to me, but obviously someone my mother didn’t appreciate very much. My mother all too often gossiped with her friends about how Coral was a leech to society—a burden due to her inability to really care for her self. She may have looked after me as a young child, but upon realizing how inept she was, my mother stopped leaving me with her.

“Torrence gave Lillie a hunting knife for the deer carcass,” Olga said. “Maybe you have something to give back to Lillie?” Coral simply mumbled while looking down at the ground, and a child ran past them, causing Olga to scold them loudly while the baby gave a loud screech.

Coral is only an old woman who lives alone with the occasional help from family members who moved away. Surely they cannot expect me to demand payment from her?

I placed my hand in my pocket, feeling the leather sheath of the new knife. I was thankful for receiving such a prized item for sharing my discovery, but my heart ached for Coral, and for the others that were always in need. It wasn’t her fault for being more sickly. Even my father picked up all the sickness passing through. Only difference was he had my mother and I to care for him. Coral had the occasional help, but even that wasn’t often.

I listened to her cough more, remembering some plants Jadis taught me were soothing to the throat. I decided I would help Coral, despite if she had anything to offer. I knew my mother meant well for me, and was only looking out for my benefit, but I knew in my heart I could also take note of what types of things were worth trading and other types of methods I wanted to do to help my neighborhood.

Jadis and Historia were helping me without much in return, why couldn’t I also help others when in need? Sure—I could focus on utilizing my abilities to help supplement my needs—like the hunting knife—but I also could help others around me, allowing them to benefit from the skills I was learning that perhaps they were too feeble to attain themselves.

The next day, I returned to work with Jadis in the shop, thinking heavily on the subject of the needs of others while pulling apart dried plants while Jadis measured them carefully into glass jars.

“I need something to help my neighbor’s cough,” I said to Jadis. “She’s old and has a relentless cough causing her pain.”

“Why not send your neighbor here?” she asked while tapping the glass jar with her slim finger. “I could create a tincture for her.”

“I—uh. I don’t think she has money for medicine. I wanted to give her something for free.”

“Oh? That’s not good business for me.”

“Then, can I give you something in return?”

“You would trade with me for your poor neighbor’s sake?” Jadis’ eyes glistened as she stared at me with a puzzled expression. I had not thought enough about the arrangement I could offer, only that I wanted to help Coral. Winter was still prevalent and the snow covered the forest ground, limiting my access to wild plants. I did not know if I could find anything to help Coral, but I also did not want to prevent Jadis from having a successful sale either. The subject of money was difficult for me, especially since I didn’t make any within my apprenticeship, but my mother’s words ringed in the back of my head.

Not everything is about money.

“Yes. I don’t have money, but I’m sure there is something I could do instead.” Jadis suddenly started laughing that sounded ethereal. My cheeks felt flushed as the old woman continued her chuckling while slowly shaking her head, allowing her grey, braided hair to clink as the beads within the small braids bounced around.

“Oh, Lillie,” Jadis said. “You really are something.”

“In spring, when the plants begin growing again, I can find anything for you. Just tell me what your heart desires. I’ll find it.”

“I’m sure you could.”

“Please, just help me. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll make up for the medicinal plants. Just help me. Please.”

“Don’t worry, child. I will.” My heart settled, and my cheeks cooled upon her acceptance of my desire to help my neighbor, feeling ever so grateful for finding another kind person in this cruel world.

I later left Jadis’ shop with a small tincture for Coral. Jadis instructed me with gathering certain plants at the first sign of spring began to bloom, indenturing me into further agreements with her work. I agreed to become her forager as she continued to train me as an apprentice, and the subject of a salary never came to being—nor did I care, for resources were more important—or, so I thought.

I knocked on the front door to the house just below mine, and it swung open, revealing Coral’s kind, but sickly face.

“Oh? Hello child,” Coral said happily, but quickly began coughing. “I’m sorry, I am not feeling well.” She placed a stained handkerchief in front of her mouth, and my heart only continued to ache for the poor soul.

“Yes, I know. That is why I brought you something,” I said and held out the small amber glass. “Take this three times a day with warm water. Only a few drops at a time. Let me know if you need more.” Coral’s eyes began to well with tears as she took the tincture with trembling hands.

“Lil-lie,” she stuttered. “I—I don’t have—“

“No payment necessary,” I said with a nod. “Just get better, and take care of yourself. Do you have anyone visiting you?”

“Ple—please. I must do something.” She hobbled further into her house, making wincing noises along with her coughing, but then came back with a single root vegetable called a white radish. “I know it’s not much, and very spicy, but it is what I can give you.”

“Then I will take the radish,” I said and gave a bow. Coral reached out for a hug, but her fragile body shook and a coughing fit overcame her and she hobbled back into her house, shutting the door behind.

I wandered up the stairs to my upper home, feeling satisfied that I helped Coral with something she most likely knew she could never obtain. Those who did come to look after her may felt helpless to also attain anything signifiant, and I could hardly imagine them ever calling for a doctor when the woman became incapacitated.

Upon entering my home, I noticed no one was around. I scratched at my arms, feeling itchy from the dried plants, but the white radish felt cool in my other hand. I placed the vegetable on the kitchen table, wondering what my mother would think of such a payment, but quickly allowed the reality of her dismay to settle in the back of my mind, for I was under no spell to receive the backlash of my mother’s cruelty.

After the events of finding the deer carcass and Coral telling everyone I helped her get better, more people in my neighborhood began coming to me with special requests. Hungry children came with pleading eyes, old people with terrible pain, and I quickly did everything to my ability to help everyone. However, every time I returned to the forest, it became increasingly more difficult to keep up with the demands of the needy. I felt a heavy weight of responsibility of helping those seeking me out. No matter how much I brought—or how little—it seemed never enough to the endless problems haunting those of the Divcii District.

“That’s all you found today?” my mother hissed. I laid a handful of winter mushrooms on the table and another jar of tree sap. “You were gone all afternoon.”

“I know, I gave some seeds I found to Coral,” I said after wiping the sweat off my forehead. “And all the spruce tips I could find I gave to her friend who needed it.”

“Coral? From downstairs?” she questioned while twisting her apron with her aging hands. “What is wrong with you? Why would you share food with that old hag?”

“She has no flour left, so I gathered plant seeds for her. Now she can make her own flour.”

“That isn’t your job to supply for her—you’re not a farmer. She should have thought of that before the winter months.”

“Everyone is hungry, and we have plenty of food.” I tapped my arm nervously as my mother’s voice only grew angrier. Her cheeks had flushed red, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she would fully explode on me for being reckless with our luck, as she would describe my behavior.

“We only have plenty of food because you keep bringing it. If you give it all away, we will be the same as the rest. There are always hungry people.”

“We can share with our community.”

“I forbid you from sharing any more food!” My mother’s eyes darkened as she furrowed her thin brows. “If we have a surplus, then you can sell. But, never give away food ever again.”

“But—“

“Don’t talk back, you gremlin.”

“Then, what makes us different from the Masters who take and never give without putting out a heavy price? What is the difference between me and the Keeper who pushes away the hungry children? What makes us any different than—“

“That’s enough!” my mother yelled, then thrust a pointed finger the other direction. “Go to your room!”

I stomped out of the kitchen and into my room, nearly slamming the door, and I flung myself onto my bed. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I trembled, and I gripped my pillow as the unnerving desire to rip it apart overwhelmed my mind.

I did not want to be like those who have plenty and never share. I did not want to take and never give back. I wanted to make my mother pleased with my work, but I also did not want to send the hungry people away. What made me different from them? I knew where to look, I had bravery to enter the forest. Maybe, if others could also be courageous, they also could help themselves. But, what about the ones who were too weak? Should not I, the stronger one, help them? Why must everyone around only keep to themselves? Why couldn’t we all share and be kind?

Why can’t everyone help each other? Then we would never need the Masters to own the lands or the Keepers to pass out food!

I cried until my blanket was damp from my tears and I shook until my body was exhausted. I pondered through the swirling thoughts of anger and dismay until I finally drifted off to sleep, skipping my dinner altogether.

***

As the year progressed, so did my reputation of being a forest gatherer. More families came to me with new requests. By my mother’s demand, I began asking for a small fee. I never charged more than a few Den, often purposefully placing the money with the plants I brought for them. I stopped telling my mother what I was gathering, but always brought plentiful amounts for our family.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

For the time being, my parents were satisfied with my work and did not say much otherwise. What used to be an enjoyable, peaceful adventure through the woods now became an obligation. I still felt joy when I found mushrooms or berries, but something else settled in the pit of my stomach and in my heart. I did not know how to recognize this feeling of anxiety as a young 14-year old, but the heavy weight upon my heart bothered me as I continued to look for plants and edible foods for my family, and extras for anyone who stopped me on my way home.

I continued to work hard with Jadis, helping her with her botany work and foraging for certain plants. I continued visiting the library where Historia helped me with short reading and writing lessons, but she became increasingly busy with private lessons that often whisked her away from the library.

In spring, I gathered the first blooms of flowers and herbs. By summer, I had successfully collected enough to supply my family with foraged foods and found medicinal plants for Jadis. During that summer, in order to keep up with the demands of the needs of my community and learn under Jadis’ training, I began writing out my work onto a notebook Historia had given me. I started drawing different plants, describing them in detail as Jadis instructed, and created an ideal list of plants she requested me to find. I still managed to meet Sable once every fortnight, timing it with the half-moon and full-moon. He never complained and seemed happy with whatever routine worked for me, and I felt grateful that he was the least problematic person in my life—as usual.

“What kind of plants grow on the mountain?” I asked as I laid on my stomach, kicking my bare feet back and forth, and Sable was crouched next to me, throwing small pebbles at a nearby rock. I was working on my writing and sketches, and felt curious to ask about his environment upon the mountain terrain.

“I don’t know,” Sable said.

“Does anything grow there?” I continued.

“On the summit, no. But, there are plenty of trees on the mountain ridges.”

“Do you think I could go up the mountain?” Sable paused his hand mid-air, and slightly scrunched his nose.

“To the summit? No.” He turned and pointed to the mountain behind the cedar forest which was barely visible to my eye. “To that forest line, yes.” I couldn’t see any forest-line, nor did I really care as he seemed to serious about my random wonderings.

“Why not to the summit?” I asked and began twisting the ends of my braid as I enjoyed messing with Sable’s simplicity in conversing.

“Only a Teragane can fly to the peak.”

“But what if I climbed.”

“You would fall.”

“Nah, I bet I could. I’m a pretty good climber.” I let out a giggle as Sable blinked slowly, dumbfounded by my comment. Slowly catching my sarcasm, he started to smile his toothy grin.

“Yeah, you could climb to the top and come visit me for an evening meal.”

“Oh? I thought you don’t share meals with friends and only eat alone?”

“If you climbed to my home—I would invite you for to eat with me.”

“What would we eat?” Sable looked up in thought, his mouth slightly opening, then he bit his lower lip, his sharp teeth glistening in the sunlight.

“I would serve you raw fish, and we would eat it on the stone cold floor.”

“Wow, how generous. I’ll be sure to start climbing now.”

“I think you would be too late for an evening meal if you started now.”

“Okay, how about breakfast? I’ll climb all night long.”

“I only eat breakfast alone.” My mouth dropped, too stunned to reply back as Sable merely grinned his silly smile, utterly pleased with himself of leading me down his ensnaring wit. I threw my quill across my notebook and pushed myself into an upright position. Sable’s dark cheeks rounded as he anticipated my next action.

“You little—“ I threw my notebook at him. He caught it and snickered. I felt my face flush, and my ears grew hot. Sable’s eyes only glistened as he enjoyed his victory in our banter. I stood up and charged him, but he twisted away running from me by only gliding a little off the ground, laughing menacingly.

“Give me back my notebook!” I shouted and chased him around the meadow, bouncing in effort to catch him before he would dart away.

Such moments of childish joy allowed me to remember the simple pleasures in life. Although I only spent a short amount of time with Sable, his lack of demands or reminder of the hardships of life allowed me to remember to have fun and be silly. Such amusements were important for me, and, evidently enough for Sable as well. However, alas, such moments were fleeting whenever I had to return to my life in Cedrus City.

I entered my fifteenth year with the typical lecture from my father requesting I seriously think about joining the mine for an official job, following with my mother starting a fight as they argued what type of work was considered worthy enough for me to pursue. I expected this to continue as long as I started each new year without any real income.

Most children started their apprenticeship at age twelve with a mentor who instructed them in their methods for many years, but rarely without a salary until they were capable of bringing in their own customers. It worked for many, allowing children to grow into the artisan works, creating their own shops or skills necessary to support themselves. Although I established an apprenticeship with Jadis, the ability to work on my own was expected much further into my future, and my father continued to view it as an unreliable source of work, stating that Cedrus City functioned mainly by the work under the mountain in the mine.

“The mine and farmlands is where security lies,” he announced, once again after my birthday. “Selling plants and potions doesn’t pay the taxes.”

“I think it has allowed me to do more than pay taxes,” I replied while adjusting myself on the wooden seat. I hated how he always brought the subject up at meal time, and always after the turn of my age. “I can use it as a bargain, help others, and create medicine for my family. Eventually, when I’m fully trained, I can start my own business.”

“Then what? You wait around for others to get sick in order to take their money?”

“No, but medicine and plants will always be part of life. The mine work, or farmlands is the same. The workers wait for the needs of others.”

“The demands are much higher than silly plants. People always need food and the ores are always in demand. That’s why the mine is secure work and actually pays consistently.”

“Doesn’t matter to me. I would rather serve the people in need than dig for shiny rocks for Masters.”

“You cannot always get what you want, you selfish child!”

“Selfish?” I rose to my feet, feeling my cheeks run hot. “Everything I do is for others!”

“Everything you do is for your silly desires! You want to just do whatever you want without any responsibilities! You need to grow up!”

“I am grown up!” I huffed a steady breath as my father stomped outside the kitchen, and I heard the front door open and slam shut. I knew he would begin smoking, seemingly the only thing that he preferred to do—or the only activity that truly calmed his bad temper.

I stood at the table, heavily breathing as my mother simply slurped her soup. I felt like turning the table over, throwing glass jars out the window, or screaming, but I knew it would not make me feel better. I slumped back into my chair, tapping my finger on the table, wishing my mother would say something helpful. The sound of her apathetic slurping only made me feel worse.

Will this argument always happen after my birthday?

***

“It’s just so annoying,” I said out loud as I pushed a needle through a torn pair of trousers. “My father wants me to start working an official job.” I knew I had promised a long time ago to stop complaining, but after such recent frustrations, I felt the need to vent about my increasing worries about my father’s pressure.

“I thought you already had a job,” Sable said with a sleepy voice. His eyes slowly closed as he lay in a relaxed position near me on the blanket in the meadow, obviously drifting into an unfazed sleepy demeanor as if he truly had not a care in the world, especially mine.

“Well it’s not officially a job, only an apprenticeship. It doesn’t come with a salary or any sort of wages,” I explained. “And, I kind of work out deals with Jadis. But, I really wish I just had more time to learn with my reading and writing. I wish I could spend more time with Historia in her grandfather’s library. I’ve been so busy with helping everyone, I haven’t had the time to devote myself to my studies. I hardly see her anymore since I work more with Jadis. I already read all the books about plants with Historia. But, I wish I could read more than just the same ol’ stories.”

“Mmm…”

“I just wish I had more time.”

“More time for what?” His nonchalant voice irritated me. For once, it seemed he was apathetic towards what I spoke of—was he always this way?

“More time to learn, of course!” I shouted and Sable’s eyes jolted open. “Like, with my reading and writing lessons. I feel like I’m expected to be perfect at everything I set out to learn. I just wish they would give me more space. I wish I had more time to read and write.”

“Then ask.” He still lay completely unmoved, even with my raised voice startling him fully awake.

“Ha! You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay.” Sable’s voice once again drifted off as he closed his eyes.

I felt even more frustrated, and I was angry that he was so apathetic towards my very real life problems. I knew that he didn’t understand how my life worked in Cedrus City. How could he? He lived a life of freedom, flying wherever he wanted, only responsible for himself. Still, I felt frustrated and my hands sewing the torn trousers slipped and I pricked my finger.

“Ouch!” I yelled and Sable once again quickly opened his eyes. He sat up and watched me throw the trousers away from me. He looked at the idle pair of pants and then back at me. I kissed my throbbing finger and held it close, holding back tears of pain, but mainly from the irritation welling in my pent up soul.

“Stupid trousers,” I grumbled. Sable stood up and walked over to the pants, and picked them up. He turned around and placed them in front of his legs, turning his body into a striking position.

“I think they look great,” he said with his silly smile, and I couldn’t help but chuckle in response.

“Give those back!” I shouted reaching my hand out. He returned to my side, then began sifting through the pile of clothes I had brought to mend. His eyes looked intentional, his mind racing with something. I wondered what he was thinking, then realized how different our clothes were in comparison. I was accustomed to seeing him wear the same thing, but suddenly I became fully aware of the differences in our attire.

“Tell me about these clothes,” he said while lifting up one of my father’s trousers. He peered through the large hole in the leg. Moments before, he was apathetic towards my complaints. Now, he was being silly and playful, and my heart felt grateful.

“Tell me about yours first,” I said as I looked at his intriguing tunic made of wool. Ever since he told me it was against his culture to write books about the Teragane people, I felt nervous asking him anything related to his life. At that moment, I didn’t care if it was disrespectful. If he could ask me about my clothes, then maybe he could tell me about his.

“Mine?” he asked while raising his black eyebrows.

“Yeah, why are your sleeves detached from your tunic?” I asked and then pointed to his arm. He looked down at his sleeves as if he had never thought about their existence in his entire life.

“The sleeves are easily removable for the Aging-Ritual,” he replied while continuing to examine his clothes with his eyes, and then slowly with his hands as he traced the material with his fingers.

“Aging-Ritual?”

“Every year a Teragane receives a new tattoo on their arm.”

“Tattoos?” A sense of surprise and shock entered my mind at the idea. He was just a kid, like me. “You? You have tattoos?”

“Yeah, look.” Sable untied the thick cord that kept his dark gray sleeves together. He slid the thin long sleeves off, showcasing his black sleeveless high-neck wool tunic. I noticed the back was secure with bone-buttons and a large open gap for his wing-blades that were attached to his back muscles. Further, his left arm was covered in thick-line tattoos, where each tattoo was a triangle with a horizontal line across it further to the peak, slightly etched over the edges. I leaned in close while examining each perfectly straight line.

“They look like little mountains!” I exclaimed upon my realization. “But—why?”

“Each marking represents the year I passed over the mountain,” he explained. “Each year signifies my return to my home on the mountain peak. I think, at least that is what the Sages tell me. Each year they always say: Sable von Hira, remember to always return to the mountain. And—uh—something else, depending on what is expected for the new year.“ I reached my hand out, pointing my finger as I counted each little marking. My finger softly brushed his brown skin as I drifted from one marking to the other. He was warm, his skin soft with thin, dark hair that was hardly noticeable until closer inspection, and he did not flinch nor remove his arm from my touch.

“Fifteen.”

“Yeah, and in winter I will receive another.”

“Cool. What an interesting way to keep track of your age. Does it hurt?” I kept my finger upon his arm, and looked up at Sable’s face. His cheeks grew rosy and he looked proud, perhaps for the first time after speaking about something hidden for anyone to see, but obviously impactful to him as an individual.

“No, they heal quickly,” he said with a grin.

“No, silly,” I said and rolled my eyes. “The tattooing process?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe a little. But I’m used to it now. Nothing worse than that prick on your finger.” He pointed to my needle still in my other hand. “Just imagine that a thousand times in a row.”

“Doesn’t sound very pleasant.”

“Yeah, well, that is just part of the process.” I slightly bobbed my head to the side, then removed my hand from his arm. He then pulled up his sleeves, tying the cord into a knot, still smiling to himself with obvious pride that became rather contagious. Not that I had any idea about the process or cultural concepts, but that he—someone from a mysterious culture—would share these intimate details with me.

Just before, I was frustrated with his apathetic attitude. In the past, I worried about losing him for offending his culture. Now?

As I settled down on the blanket and returned to mending, a new sense of trust began to rise at the thought of my friendship with Sable. He was like no one else in my life, nor did I experience anything like the lovely sensation of having trust with another.

“Thanks for showing me your tattoos,” I said while keeping my eyes focused on the needle being pushed through the thick hide of the trousers. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Now, tell me about your clothes,” Sable said as he kneeled next to me, causing me to lift my eyes. “I would still like to know.”

“Well, these trousers are my father’s,” I said while lifting the torn pants. “They’re made of cowhide, I think.”

“What about your clothes?”

“M—mine?” My eyes widened as Sable’s eyes softened as he looked intently at me, then down at my blouse, then my skirt. His hand reached out, and a warm sensation flushed my cheeks, and I suddenly felt paralyzed.

Why do I suddenly feel this way?

Sable grabbed the end of my skirt, his fingers rubbing the material. I noticed his nails were relatively short, but cleaner than I expected. His fingers were long and slim, nearly flawless with no sharp ridges, and appearing smoother than a river pebble.

“Is it wool?” he asked while still moving his fingers along the hem, examining it like a tailor would gently handle an imported material like something as extravagant as silk.

“No, it’s linen.”

“Linen?”

“A type of material made from plant fibers. I only wear wool during the colder months.” Sable reached his hand around and stroked the fibers of a waist satchel he usually wore attached to a leather belt.

“I think I know linen.” He then turned around and looked at me again and reached his hand out to my arm. “And your tunic? Is it also linen?” His hands gently caressed the material, and his eyes intently drifted from looking at my clothes as if he truly were embezzled with something I thought so mediocre.

“It’s a blouse, but yeah it—“ my voice broke and my cheeks continued to feel flushed, and I turned my face away. “Yeah—most of my clothes are made with linen. It’s cheap material and easily mendable, especially since I get most of my clothes handed down to me from others.”

“Except your cloak.”

“No, my cloak was also from a previous owner, that’s why it’s so ratty.”

“I meant the material.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s wool—like yours, I guess.”

“Cool.”

My eyes darted as Sable slowly drifted his hand away from my sleeve, the softness of his voice causing me to shiver. He leaned forward, still sitting on his knees, and looked off into the distance with a rather satisfying grin, and the wind rustled his feathers as they slightly folded behind his relaxed position.

The heat upon my cheeks began to decrease as Sable’s attention drew elsewhere, for he did not ask anymore questions as I continued to mend the clothes. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice a fluttering in my heart as thoughts swirled through my head, wondering why I suddenly felt so enamored by something as simple as his hands upon my clothes or the softness of his voice.