C.A.L.B.E.R.S prompts

Cold Ivy Village p2

   Clover had spent the rest of the night quietly reading over the large book. The art Sabrina had done had only gotten better as she had gotten older herself. She had drawn a good map of the village that Clover decided to put to memory. Scourge brought food up to her like he had the previous night and sat next to her, looking over her shoulder. She leaned on him, earing with one hand, reading the journal with the other. He looked outside, staying quiet as he let her read quietly, eventually falling asleep next to her as she pulled a blanket over their legs, but she continued to read until she got to a longer one that was from a year into the family being at the new village, the entry almost at the end of the book. 

Dear Journal Entry 121, 

   I am about to turn 18, and this book is almost full. It's so weird to see it filled to the brim with everything leading up to today. The season has changed to deep winter up here, and ironically enough it isn't very happy. We had all noticed mother growing more and more unhappy, but she wasn't filled with sadness. Since sadness isn't the absence of happiness like I used to think. No, the absence of happiness can be any other emotion. Mother was filled with regret, pain and I think fury. She was mad at papa for letting Lettie keep her snaggle tooth, she was mad at me for being better at art, mad at Solovan for bringing us up here. I think maybe she was even mad with Orion. The village guard found her over by the northern orchard. She hadn't been carrying a bottle along with her like she had constantly before. I don't think I ever saw her sober after we arrived here. I stepped up a lot to take care of Lettie and the house. It's why I hadn't written as much as I wanted. I had started making a statue to give to her on her birthday. Now I'll have to finish it to put on her tombstone. She'll be the first death up here in the village. At the funeral everyone said how sorry they were, and how much they hoped I would be careful, since this sort of thing is genetic. 'Crazy breeds crazy Sabrina. Don't be a red devil.' That hurt a bit, looking back at my childhood, I know who they mean. And I don't think they were right about her, like they weren't right about mama. See, Mama did drink a lot, but she wasn't stupid. she didn't make a mess, she started to eat and she had her good days when she helped out and didn't drink. Only when papa wasn't around. She started to get better, and move on from her anger. I could see it, thats why I was making the gift. as a thank you for her coming back to me and Lettie. But something lead her out of the house. Something lead her away from us, and towards the mountain. One of the rules is don't go up there unless your in a group of 3 or more adults. The kids playground, and school are all on the south side of the village for a reason. and to get to the tallest mountain, you would have to go through the grounds where the chiefs cattle were, then the orchard, and finally this big stone wall. So mama would've have to have gone through all of that, and she only could've done it at night. Mama is.... WAS a heavy sleeper. She would fall asleep at around 9, then wake up the next morning at 7. And even at her drunkest her body did that like clockwork. I noticed, and made sure she was cozy and in bed. So for her to be outside, didn't make sense. So tomorrow I'm going to go to just the wall, no further to see what could've made her go there. It couldn't be a night stalker. I'm going to go, saying I'm visiting mama. She's buried at the wall.
                                                                                                             Sincerly
                                                                                                                 Sebbie

   Clover started to have a feeling in her gut. This was very telling, but also made her extremely nervous. The next entry was there, but didn't have any more doodles, or sketches like the previous ones. This was a but shorter then the last one, and the handwriting looked like it had been written down in a rush.