Galera

Chapter 1 - 7 Springrise 1142

Galera squinted in the early morning light, peering out to sea from her favorite spot on the roof of the Cliffside Inn.  She was searching the harbor, looking for movement.  Below, the town of Graystone was just waking up, and Gala herself stifled a yawn as she finished re-braiding her brown hair.  Finally, she saw the flash of amber sails that she knew would be her uncle's ship.

"They're here!" she yelled, slipping back in through the window to her room.  Her mother Claranda had just entered with a hamper of clean clothing.  "Mamma, they're here!"

"Hush, you," scolded Claranda with a smile.  "You'll wake the guests. Oi, and this bed? Like a wild nest!" She clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she set some of Galera's clothes on top of her dresser.

"For I am as wild as the day is long," Galera said in a theatrical whisper as she hugged her mother tightly. She turned Claranda around and held her at arm's length. "You could always make it for me?" she teased.

Claranda gave a little amused whoop. "Oh, we're a little girl, are we? Mammy make my bed?"

"I'll make it when I get back," Gala laughed. "Just close the door behind me, eh, and no one will see."

"You rotten thing. Off you go, then," laughed Claranda as she waved Galera away.  "Give Fordie my love." Her daughter grinned and blew her a kiss from the hallway before sliding down the wooden bannister to the ground floor.

---

"The Lionheart'll be in port, soon, Pappa," Galera announced as she entered the kitchen.  

"By the look of you, I wager you're going to meet it?" Her father Morrill raised a brow at her, then turned his eyes back to the cutting board as he diced an onion.

"As ever. I've made the bread for the morning. What'll our guests have for breakfast today?" Galera peered over his shoulder.  "Oh, the famous scramble," she concluded, picking a piece of diced ham from a bowl.  "Save me a plate!" She planted a kiss on her father's cheek, then grabbed her leather satchel and was out the kitchen door before he could manage a reply.

---

The day outside was bright and crisp.  Spring had just arrived, and soon the fields beyond the inn would bloom with wildflowers and clover. Galera closed her eyes and took a deep breath of morning air before making her way to the inn's small barn.  Grain for the chickens, hay for the horse.  An apple swiped from the kitchen for their goat, Lucky. She gave Lucky a quick brush before fitting her with a harness and a leash.   Then it was out the barn door, behind the inn, and down the rocky path that would lead them to town.

It was a breezy day, and Galera hummed to herself as she led Lucky down the switchbacks cut into the side of the cliff.  She would have to take the long way back, what with Lucky pulling a loaded cart and her portly Uncle Haverford at her side, so for now she and the old nanny goat enjoyed the steep path.  Boots and hooves bounced along the trail with a confidence born of having made the same trip a thousand times. And she had, hadn't she? Always the same trip, so familiar her feet simply found the way.  Same old switchbacks, same old inn above, town below. 

---

By the time Galera and Lucky stepped on to the cobbled streets on the north side of town, business as usual had begun for the day.  Graystone was a large port town, a trading point for the villages inland but nothing so big as port cities on the eastern coast. She wound her way past the homes on the edge of town, pausing to slip a note under her friend Maggie's front door.  In years past, she would've stopped in for coffee with the newly minted Mrs. Fleming, but now that Maggie had her own little girl to care for, Galera knew better than to attempt conversation with her before noon. Sure enough, there came the toddler's cry through the shutters.