Wet Fire

An Ancient Inscription #3

A wooden cart rumbled down the dirt road that led from their village. In the cart, was all of her family's possessions--chests filled with clothes and linens, pots and pans, candles, books, wreaths, and other household items. The luggage clanged and banged as the cart rolled into ruts and potholes on the road.

Azaira watched her father's horses struggle to pull the wooden cart. Both mares were underfed, as their ribs were slightly visible underneath their chestnut coats. The one on the left was named Sari, after her father's old horse who had died just this past year after breaking its leg trying to jump a fence post. New Sari was stronger than the old one, but not strong as horses generally go. Aliya, pulling the cart beside her, was thicker and pulled most of the weight of the cart.

The sky was a clear blue that day, and the sun shone brightly down on the grassy vale which they traveled through. Tiny white flowers poked their heads above the green grasses and filled the air with a thick scent of pollen. Where the grasses ended in the distance, a tall pine forest began. The trees were tall and dark green as they should be, and they swayed with every gust of early summer wind. An eagle flew down the the heavens and perched itself onto one of the high branches of a pine, spreading its wings out on its nest. Above them all loomed the great Eastern Mountain Range, with white snow-capped peaks and jagged valleys, sending down to them a cold breeze.

Just a mere twenty years ago, these foothills had been home to people, but now the wooden villages they had occupied lay abandoned, overgrown with grasses. Everyone who lived here left, but for what reason Azaira, nor anyone else she knew, could not say. Nature always had a way of reclaiming the land for itself, that much she knew. Azaira had seen it herself just in the last turn of the moon.

She heard a sudden giggle from behind her, and felt a rush of air as her three younger siblings ran past. "Give it back!" Cried Zath, stumbling over a protruding tree root. He managed to stay upright as he chased his little sister. Graff was Zath's twin and followed behind him, calling Luci, who was nine. Luci dashed forward and then gracefully ascended the trunk of a sugar pine, far out of the reach of her brothers. In her hands was a shiny metal object.

"I found it! It's mine, give it back, Luci!" Graff and Zath stopped at the foot of the line and stared up at Luci, who displayed a sly grin.

"Why don't you come and get it, then?" She flaunted a bracelet, waving it around in the air. "What do boys want with a bracelet anyway?" She said as she slipped it around her wrist. It hung loosely but glittered brilliantly.

"Boys!" Their mother rushed up from behind and grabbed the twins by the ears and twisted. They yelled out and the shook themselves loose from her firm grasp, rubbing the side of their heads. "Go back behind the cart. Now! And leave your sister alone."

"Look what she's got, mother. Look. I found it, it's mine." Graff pointed to the tree where Luci was perched. Luci slunk behind the branches as her mother looked up at her.

"Come down, Luci. Let's have a look."

Luci slid down the trunk and hopped down onto the ground, wiping her hands on her skirt. Her curly blonde hair was sticky with sap.

Her mother grabbed Luci's wrist and took the bracelet, turning it over and over again.

"It was on the side of the road. Just sitting there. It's mine." Graff reached for it but was stopped by his brother, who shoved him out of the way.

"Stop it you two!" The boys looked up and stopped wrestling. "The bracelet is mine, now." And their mother slipped it into her pocket, out of sight. The children dashed off behind the cart, disappointed that their newfound treasure had been confiscated. Tarah tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and glanced over at Azaira.  She gave her a quick smile and then walked away casually. Tarah is such a good mother. Kind. Smart.