Game Of Survival •in editing•

2 Rainclouds and Sunshine

Mama always told me that if I had a friend by my side I'd always be invincible. I became a talkative, social nuisance after she told me life was better lived with those around you. Friends protected you, they kept you sane, they kept you grounded. I made friends like that. Alec, Faith and Matthias were like family. Ramern was merely an annoying cousin who only seemed to hurt your feelings or make you cry but he was still family nonetheless.

That bubbly, story-filled little girl died in that fire.

She died the day Alec's hand slipped from mine. When my Godmother heard the news the next day and came to collect me and the clothes off of my back. I received nothing of my mother's or father's but mere memories that flutter out of my consciousness as the days flow by.

I still remember staying at Alec's that night, his blanket wrapping around me to warm me in his room that faced the direction of the cool northern winds. I remember him talking me to sleep, holding my hand while he sat awkwardly on the floor. That was the last night I cried.

I didn't cry when Katherine came for me and I had to say goodbye to my childhood friends. I didn't cry when I realized I had to move halfway across the Kingdom of Lyth to the East to live with her. I didn't cry when Alec sobbed and begged for me to stay.

As I said, that girl died with her parents.

"Do you have any other materials? Linen is a bit..." The shopkeeper simply stares at me with bored eyes and a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"We are quite busy this week Madam. As you know, the annual Carmine Festival is right around the corner. It's either this or a leather dress, although, I don't recommend it since Madam Blake was the last owner."

I scrunch my nose and stare at the linen. Madam Blake was only a couple of years older than I; same height, same build. But Madam Blake was known to keep her nights busy and her days peaceful by examining different pubs and brothels to make those nights exciting. I couldn't imagine the reason why she sold it and I didn't want to know.

However, leather best suited me. I needed something new for my mission, something to make me feel bold and confident in my abilities as a budding mercenary. Linen simply didn't do the trick.

I thank the shopkeeper, purchasing the linen just in case I came back tomorrow and the prices skyrocketed through the roof.

The sky was bright, smiling and kissing my already tanned face and chestnut curls with its glory. The village will be especially busy this week due to the Carmine Festival in three days. The festival will then carry on for a week and a half to fully celebrate the founder of this village; Lizbeth Carmine. Stories and rumours are passed down through generations as everything else does. Some say Carmine was a warrior princess who liberated her fellow female comrades from the clutches of an evil king. Some say she was a normal village girl like me who had her brother killed at a young age by a prince she later on married, only to kill and become queen herself.

Regardless of how the story changed, the ending remained the same; she was a hero. A saint. A Queen in every sense of the word. Something I can only hope to be.

I pass by Linda's old bakery for a quart of hot hops and sweets Katherine likes to devour like food. The woman in front smiles, already detouring to the back to get my usual order.

I dance on my feet idly, turning on my heels to the crowd of people tying orange and yellow posters and banners to the railings of their houses, some spray painting the moon, the sun, and the stars in various dyes and texture of paint on the cobblestone walkways.
Linda sits right on the edge of the Frazier River, the water silent music to the workers already dehydrated from the afternoon sun. All around me were two-story houses made of whites and bronze and beige, met together at random intervals to enclose its people in a cozy environment. The best thing about this village, however, was the children. They laughed and screamed and ran and jumped. I smile subconsciously, allowing myself to relive bittersweet memories of my childhood. Feeling my feet digging into the wet earth, feeling the insects crawl over my toes, the sprinkle of summer rains on my face and hair, my clothes sticking to my body rather uncomfortably from the heat. The scents of fresh rose and pine water from petals and leaves that would fall haphazardly into the water's surface, of damp grass from morning dew, of oranges and sweet berries that grew here around this time of the year.