![]() Tapping of RainA Chapter by Lydia RosewoodFull Summary: A rebellion strikes the kingdom of Evermosa, the Pureblood humans against Mixed Blood. Many Families stricken by the grief of falling on both sides of the battlefield, Kiscara, a half-elf abandoned in her adolescence. Survives with help from the villagers of Corvus, she is viewed as an equal to the people of the village. Though when soldiers come to resupply, her simple life is changed, she becomes a blacksmith to the Kingdom’s army and the fight against the rebels. She finds that she is not the only mixed blood taken to help the army, and that not everyone is who they appear to be. Chapter 1Drip, drip, drip broke the silence. Drip, drip, drip joining the previous group, drip, rustle, drip, rustle, drip and the pitter patter of the rain hitting the top of the shelter, joining the conversation. The rain water marked the changing on the seasons; the harsh and icy cold chill marked harvest was approaching rapidly. Splish, splash the water on the floor made as more droplets hit the surface. Water coming up to land on a warm body, twitching under the touch of the cold water the remainder of the water sliding down the being before hitting the wooden floor. To the warm body it was nothing more than a nuisance. Turning over, wishing to sleep for a moment longer, drip. It took a single drop of cold rain to awaken the being from her slumber. An audible groan filled the room, her hand reached up to her face rubbing the remains of sleeps from her eyes. Shifting to a sitting position her mane snarled, eyelids drooping kicking her free from the fur blankets that lay over her body. Mornings were always lovely. The droplets met to form a small puddle, along the surface an auburn colored appeared for a moment before the water was disturbed by her thread through the lone puddle in the room. A yawn escaped her lips as she wandered away from her bed to the only other piece of furniture in her room. Stumbling as she opened the lock, “A new day, a new hunt…” a groggy response falling from her lips, pulling her plain tunic, breaches to her lap; dressing lazily pulling on the breaches lacing the front throwing off her night gown to be replaced by the plain tunic. She sighed before walking through the archway to the only other room in the house. The house didn’t contain much other than reminders of her parent, but she didn’t need much to survive. She felt her father and mother taught enough of her life skills so could live a basic lifestyle. On her left was an old worn fireplace, with a small fire dancing within; not too far way worn leather armor hung drying from the previous night. In the far corner sat a large burlap bag sporting a large bronze buckle tightly shut, resting against the lone bookshelf keeping room for numerous leather bound books. Her hand ran through her red bundle on her head, trying miserably to tame the red locks. She made her way over to the old book case; she looked at each tome for a moment, bragging her finger over the spines of the leather books. A single line appeared behind her finger, she glimpsed at her own finger before wiping it on her breaches. Mother’s Tomes need a good dusting… She fiddled to open the burlap bag searching for the ebony comb. She turned to look in the house listening to the small cracks of the fire, the comb being guides through her red hair. As she stood looking at the emptiness of her house and taking in account the weather outside it was always mornings like these that reminded her of an abandoned tomb, quietness, the rain, the dying fire. Her feet shuffling across the dirty floor boards, she sighs before kneeling so she could tend to the fire. Her hand gripping the poker leaning against the frame of the old fireplace, she turned the grayed charred log slightly. The log broke into smaller pieces of orange, black, gray, and white, all with the small jab given to it. Turning her head to the left she could she see the pile of wood she had stacked close by, reaching with her free hand she grasped the firewood. Placing it towards the middle keeping her hand away from the small flames, using the fire poker she slide the log further into the fire. She glimpsed over to see stray pieces of bark and needle ad leaves sitting around the pile, gathering the stray pieces she threw them into the fire to add kindling. As the fire began to grow and roar, a sudden knock came at the door “Miss Kiscara!” a small voice called, rapping, and tapping on the wood. Kiscara placed a hand upon her knee to push herself up so she could stand, before walking to the door. Her hand grasp a worn brass handle to open the door, as a huge gust of wind suddenly caused the door to be force open, catching her off guard. A small cloaked body tumbling like an arm full of firewood onto the floor of the small house, “Oomph!” Kiscara now able to balance herself out quickly shut and secured the door. Pushing some strands of hair out of her face before turning to face the other being in the room, “Young one…” the host began kneeling in front of the cloaked figure; taking a role of a mother scolding a disobedient child “Why are ya out in this weather? Alicia, your mother must be worried sick ‘bout ya!” She finished pulling off the hood of the cloak to look at the small girl, the girl tried to stand until clumsily collided foreheads with the older girl; causing her to fall backwards on to her bottom. Kiscara rubbed her head slightly as she saw the small being rub her own head and her sore buttocks. Alicia peered up to have her big brown eyes glaze directly at red head. The eyes held determination as Alicia opened her cloak to relieve a basket with warm baked goods. “Mama, told me to bring you these! They’re for doing the horses’ feet they’re plus just out of the oven, and good!” As the little girl stood up her hood fell down further exposed her coal color hair, and her red wind burned cheeks, giving her the appearance of a life size doll, one soaked by the rain. The water on her caused her cloak to cling tightly to her body. Goose bumps were visible upon her exposed skin, as well as the bluish-purple tint around lips the poor girl was shaking from the lack of heat. Kiscara eyes looked the girl up and down, her hand drifted to the back of her neck, Alicia was soaked are freezing cold. Looks like I can’t go out for a hunt at the moment, She grasped the basket from the young girl’s fingers. The smell of the warm bread reached her nose, Kiscara licked her lips slightly, before placing a small smile on her face, “Thank you Alicia. Take a seat by the fire you must be cold…” Kiscara gestured to the display of oranges and reds. The little girl skipped happily before dropping in front, the older woman taking a seat next to her, “You hungry?” She asked the coal hair girl. Alicia nodded, as the host reached into the basket to pull out a loaf of bread, she broke it in half before handing a piece to the girl. Kiscara tried to resist the urge to giggle at the action of the girl next to her nibbling her bread as a mouse to a piece of seed. Outside, the occasional gust of wind howled a harsh tune through the air. No words were exchanged between the two; silently they ate gazing into the fire. The fire continued its spirited dance as the two just quietly ate their pieces of bread, savoring the taste, “Kiscara? Are ya ever sad about your Mama and Papa?” Alicia timidly mumbled before she continues to nibble on her portion. Between the moments of silence the sound of rain hitting the roof echoed throughout. “Sometimes,” Kiscara answered as she took her final bite, brushing her fingers together lightly wiping off existing crumbs. “But, I can’t feel that way all the time…” She reached back to pull her auburn hair back into a ponytail covering her ears. “If I did it would be a waste of their memory.” Kiscara walked over to stand by the bookcase. She pulled off her bag down she walked back to her place near the fire before dropping the bag in between her and the small girl. “What do you mean, ‘it would be a waste of their memory’?” Alicia asked before shaking off bread crumbs from her cloak. Kiscara smiled lightly before touching the young girl’s head. “If I’m sad all the time, then I won’t be able to remember all the happy things I did with them…” Kiscara could understand Alicia didn’t fully comprehend what she was telling her but ignore the simple fact for the moment. A loud knock came behind the two females, for a moment scaring the living daylights from both. “CARA! ARE YOU HOME?” a male voice from the other side of the door shouted. It was only a matter of time Kiscara thought as she went to the entrance of her cabin. Though this time as she opened the door the wind didn’t push her back, “Greetings Verhan,” Kiscara bowed her head, “Though I have a good idea of why you grace me with your presence, why hath you decided to visit my humble abode?” She kept her posture head held high, but her eyes never met the male at the door. The storm was still as unpleasant as when Alicia had arrived moments earlier. Verhan, roughly the same age as Kiscara give or take a few months. He shared the same brown eyes as his younger sister; sadly his hair was more of the color of straw. “Cara, has Alicia been here by any chance? Mum, sent her up here before the downpour.” Verhan’s eyes showed that he was not amused but more that he was concern for the younger sister. The older female sighed before she opened the door completely, relieving a clear view of the younger sister, Verhan face showed relief once he saw Alicia. Kiscara watched the change of mood. She had seen that look plenty of time before, each time resulting with her being scolded, “I was givin’ her shelter from the storm…” She whispered quietly as she gazed at the floor. Kiscara braced herself for the next action. Verhan frowned; he was hurt she had categorized him with Outsiders. He put on friendly smile as he gently placed a hand on Kiscara shoulder, startling her, “Thank ya for providing her shelter…” his smile faltered, “But must you act as though the other villagers and I treat you any different?” Kiscara paused for a moment before she unclenched her shoulders; she turned her head to look at the fair haired boy. It was none his doing, or even the villagers to Corvus. No, it was the merchants, performers, travelers, each sharing the same remark about her appearance, Tainted blood… Her hand reached to tuck a strand of her behind her ear, she turned to look back down at the ground, “Discrimination is a dreadful thing, and you get use to being blamed for everything…” Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper, “I should know…” she picked up her head to look at the older boy. Verhan look somewhat hurt, Alicia suddenly jumped between the two startling the two, “Brother!” The small girl squealed jumping up and down, gripping her brother’s hand, “What is it Miss Kiscara gets blamed for? She’s always kind!” the girl’s black hair bouncing with her. Kiscara smiled at the relationship the two shared, always someone to learn and one to teach. Discrimination was one topic which was never touched on within the siblings’ family. Until one incident many harvests ago. Kiscara stared at the older sibling who looked up eyebrow innocently quirked. She subconsciously wrapped her arm around herself, “Send your mother my thanks for the bread.” Alicia grabbed a hold on her brother’s hand. “Thank you Miss Kiscara!” Alicia smile brighten her mood slightly. Verhan smiled once more before he pulled his sister’s hood over her head. Soon the two went sprinting off in to the gray that covered the trail leading down the hill. Kiscara stepped out to the pouring rain, the water hitting the top of her head soaking her. The rain was cold upon impact with her skin, picking up her foot she noticed a decent size puddle. She kicked the water causing it to disperse widely, the iciness of the rain acted as a relief. She held her arms out away from her body, twirling like she had done so many years ago. A large gust of wind picked up brushing tightly to the newly soaked girl sending chills along her spine. Summing her life into a simple act; whenever things were running good, she would collide with a harsh reality. Shivering she wandered into the house, to the warm fire, waiting for the rain to die down. © 2011 Lydia RosewoodAuthor's Note
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5 Reviews Added on May 29, 2011 Last Updated on May 29, 2011 Author![]() Lydia RosewoodNYAboutTwitter Background Get this widget | Track details | eSnips Social DNA I'm still in High School. I love to write my own sort stories and I have won few competions in my school fo.. more..Writing
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