Chapter 1

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The sky was a beautiful blue with puffy, white clouds sprinkled on top, forming some sort of feather pattern. It was a blue canvas for the ethereal beings of the sky to paint on and make obscure shapes. One day, it would be a classic painting of clouds, the other the canvas would be empty, another it would be an eyecatching gradient of orange and yellow and so on. It was truly a magnificent sight to see and you could not get enough of it. Each and every time that you would come to the grassy meadow, which was kept a secret location past the thick vegetation of the forest of your village, you would lie down and enjoy the solemn atmosphere and the serenity of the mixture of nature's sounds. The birds would sing in the trees and dance in the blue changing canvas; the trees would join in too sometimes and dance an elegant waltz with the chilly wind of the night. The night had plenty to offer as well, if not more. The shiny dots of white and the full moon would connect to make a party of lines people called constellations and light up the ever darkening blue enough to allow visibility. During nighttime, it was one of your pastimes to study the sky and try to catch a glimpse of the many intricate figures and symbolisms of those notional lines or try to find new ones which you could possibly name one day and make up a story about it.

The village you lived in was a very quiet place with few residents and everyone knew each other; it was impossible for someone to hide in such low population after all. It was a group of small houses and cottages hidden deep within a forest made of giant trees that some would call enchanted; ents who made sure no one would harm the forest or the various creature that lived in it. The residents were very hospitable towards strangers because they all knew that the forest guardians would only allow the kind-hearted to go deeper into the trees and find the small village. Most houses and markets were built around the plaza, while the farmhouses and barns were stationary in the giant fields in the open valleys and the sheep would graze with their herdsman in the meadows. You were the only daughter of the village's doctor, or well, the closest thing there was for a doctor. Your father was an expert in treating external injuries while your mother practised herbalism to treat illnesses. The two of them owned a small building near the plaza, where they would take care of the ill and wounded. Their services were free to the villagers but they priced them quite heavily if it were a stranger who seeked help; it was a way to keep them from going broke and continuing to be on good terms with the other inhabitants.

Normally, you would try to help out as much as you could in the mornings by gathering materials for them, going on trips to retrieve herbs and cook supper when your mother was busy with other chores. Out of all the places you would go to find the therapeutic plants, that meadow that had the blue canvas for a roof was your favorite one to visit and you would always sit there for hours, plucking the herbs from the ground slowly and laying them in your straw basket with gentle hands so as to remain in the soft grass just a bit longer. It was sometimes hard to come up with excuses as to why you would return relatively late every other day, especially when you would go back during sunset but you somehow managed to utter a white lie to your parents. One time you had told them that you had thought that you had gotten lost when you were on the right path, another you had told them that a friend had engaged you into a lengthy conversation. Honestly, you did not know how they had yet to lose their trust in you with those amateur excuses.

Today was one of those days. You had dawned a simple dress and saddled up the family horse, Bella, for a small excursion to your favorite meadow with the pretense that you would go pick berries from the lush bushes outside of the village. At least you would actually be picking fruit but not berries, instead, you would be picking pears and apples from the orchards on the way to your destination. You loaded the saddle with a few empty bags which you would be filling, as well as a few snacks for both the horse and yourself; to set up a picnic of sorts. Your parents would be in the fields, looking over their field of cabbages and tomatoes so returning with the fruit you had promised was unnecessary. I'll just say the horse ate them all, you mused as you brought the animal near a high rock, which you used as a stepping stool to climb onto the saddle. It wasn't the easiest to ride in a dress but you made it work by tucking the skirt under your legs and tying the loose end into a knot.

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