Chapter 1 - Waiting

***This chapter is not yet complete. I will be editing and revising and will announce when it is finally concluded, thank you.

Chapter 1 - Waiting

Winter was coming. It had been shy to leave earlier that year and was now early, making haste to the mountains. The days on the mountain were still brisk and pleasant with what little sun stayed, but the nights were cold and black. One such night was that same black and left every living thing shivering until a temperate autumn wind flew through the valley, bringing with it first light.

A heavy fog had surrounded the mountains, concealing its inhabitants in an icy mist. As the light poured in, the cloud hissed and melted away from the mountainside and promises of warmth drove up the mountain. The sun’s rays shed its light upon the crude wooden structures of a mountain town called Crows Landing and woke its gruff oxen and skittish fowl and they shuddered, sloughing off the ice that glazed their coats. Its residents remained still in their beds, clinging to their blankets.

Crows Landing was a remote town. Although by many people it would be called base or sordid, it was prosperous in its own right. Of all of the mountain towns, it lied in the most direct route to the capitol city, known as “The Peak”, which was north across a giant gulf of water and was an avid trading partner of animal skins and various crops. The late summer and early winter had harmed the maize and potatoes that they usually grew and left a feeling of panic with the people of Crows Landing. Even though it was in the most direct route to the Peak, it was also the most obscure of the mountain towns; it lied in the center of a giant mountain pass that stretched east and west and south on the edge of a great span of water. Supplies from the capitol only came once a year and goods from other mountain towns would vary monthly. At the apex of Crows Landing was an airship port where all exchanges were made. A ship hadn’t been seen in over six weeks and with every passing day, the people of the town grew more and more restless.

Sara Wellworth was perhaps the most restless of all of the villagers. She was the adopted daughter of one of Crows Landing’s most esteemed residents: Thomas Wellworth. He had found her wandering the woods when she couldn’t have been more than seven years old. Now ten years later, she didn't look much older. She stood small and had maintained her girlish features: Her cheeks were round, her body still more square than curved, her arms and legs refusing to take on any shape of muscle. Every part of her was tiny.

In a way, her mind compensated for her smallness. She was very bright by the standard of Crows Landing " which had not much to be said as it was a town of farmers and skin traders " and had in the year prior traveled with a small company by foot to a mountain town called Mont Blanc far to the west in order to take exams that would determine her future. If her scores were high enough, she would leave Crows Landing and travel north for further schooling at the capitol. If they weren’t, she would remain. Her scores were to arrive with the next ship from the capitol.

She was still fast asleep; her dark hair sprawled across her pillow as she dreamt. Her mind traveled to her oldest memory. She felt herself rocking in his arms back and forth. Everything was dark, but she was safe. She was warm.

Sara opened her eyes slowly, covering her face from the sun’s invasive shine through the cracks in the wall above her head. A knock came to her door.

“Yes?” She croaked. The cold night had left her throat scratchy.

“I’m just wondering if you would like to get up this morning.” Thomas’s sarcasm bit through the door, making her chuckle and roll her eyes.

Thomas was an old man in Sara’s eyes. His body - more gray than cream - was covered in spots. His wrinkles were evidence that even now, the ground was tirelessly trying to pull him down to his grave. His once thick auburn hair was now faded and thinning where it stood on his head; the crown of his head was completely bare. He stood tall, however. He was not a lanky man, either. Even in his wrinkly old age, he must have been in his late fifties, he was still an intimidating man to many who knew him. To Sara, he was her Thomas.

She grinned to herself as she lifted the bed covers up above her shoulders, savoring the warmth of the blankets and the spots of sun, “No. No, I thought I’d stay in bed all day if it’s all the same to you,” She yawned back to Thomas.

“Oh, no I completely understand,” He paused, “I’m so proud to have raised such a motivated and productive daughter!”

“You sure are!” She hollered at him sweetly jeering at him. Thomas pushed open the door with his foot, looking at her from the hall with un-amused eyes and arms crossed. It was such a classic expression. She turned away from the man and snuggled into her pillow, pretending to be asleep. Thomas raised an eyebrow.  

“Really?” He asked.

“Shhhhh, I’m sleeping.” She pretended to comfort him, proceeding to glance and grin at him.

“You’re too old for this, Sara.” She looked at him, narrowed her eyes, and puckered her lips, pouting. She sat up in bed and hugged her knees. “You’re only as old as you feel, Thomas,” She said it matter-of-factly.

“And how are you feeling this morning, Sara?”

“Absolutely childish.” She sent him a cheeky grin.

“Clearly.” 

He rolled his eyes at her before turning and walking down the hall. Sara rested her head on her knees and wondered what time it was. She was usually an early riser, getting up before sunrise. Even in sleeping in, she still felt so haggard. Perhaps she had spent too long last night thinking about her scores, reliving her tests.

“I’m hungry, Sara! It’s late. Time for Breakfast,” Thomas yelled from down the hall. At least it was still morning. “No need to be crotchety, old man!” She yelled back, getting out of bed and starting down the hall towards the kitchen, “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Thomas was there, tending to the fire before he sat down in the empty rocking chair beside it. He let his head fall back against the chair then he relaxed. The wrinkles on his face seemed to droop lower than they usually did and the deep lines on his face were as etchings set in stone. He exhaled deeply through his nose.

He had never looked so old to Sara. His hair was grey and was thinning, resting on his forehead. She tried to imagine the younger Thomas: his deep russet full head of hair, large smile, few wrinkles. It startled her, the contrast between her thoughts and her reality. She set the kettle on the iron stove, lighting the fire below it, before she turned to an empty bowl on the wooden table. “No more eggs, Thomas?”

“Not my job.” He sighed, “You woke up late. You go get them.”

Sara was in her nightgown, a simple garb. It was capped sleeved and ashen and hung loose on her shoulders and went down past her knees. It seemed hardly fair that she should be the one to get dressed and go outside when he was sitting there, fully clothed and able to do so himself.

Sara pivoted on her heels and made way back towards her room where she put on a heavier dress that had long sleeves and was a lighter gray. This dress went down past her ankles and was tied at the chest. She put on her apron as well, tying it behind her and grabbed her coat made from dark animal leather and then laced her leather boots.  The sleeping garb was folded neatly and put away. Sara had had that nightgown ever since she first started living with Thomas. It had belonged to Thomas’s late wife. Few trinkets of hers were left.

Sara wandered over to the full-length mirror standing in her room. She looked at herself up and down. It was embarrassing, really to be that tiny. She pulled out a brush and untangled her knotted, black hair. It was unnaturally straight once she had finished. Her hair fell down to her elbows and framed her face in a way that made her look wicked.

It made her deep gray eyes look too dark and her skin look too white. She grabbed a bright yellow ribbon from one of the drawers by her bed and laced up her hair in a tidy bun to add some color to her dress. The hairdo made her look a few years older and a bit less childish. Sara smiled to herself with pale lips before leaving the room and heading for the door.

The air was biting. The warm sun from that morning had promptly hidden behind the clouds directly above them. It was ideal to live below the clouds on the mountain. Sara and Thomas managed a terraced farm where they grew potatoes and maize and they needed whatever rain they could get. It would be a small harvest this year.