Highest rating: #19 in fantasy!
Edlyn has never fit in. With her unusual white hair and silver eyes, she sticks out from her village of brown. To make matters worse, unexplainable things tend to happen around her-things that she can't control. In a...
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My eyes scour the ground as I walk through the field nearly bare of any vegetation, watching for a sliver of green peaking out from underneath the frosted dirt. So far I've found nothing, but I double check. And then I check again. If I miss even one hidden cabbage or leaf of kale, my pay will be given to one of the three girls that I've been working alongside to sow seeds, weed, and eventually harvest this field for most of my life. Or, rather, I do the majority of the work while they stand around and whisper about me when they think that I can't hear.
Occasionally they pull a weed or two, or even fill a basket of cabbage or potatoes, but soon the prospect of dirtying their hands forces them into idleness once again.
Ridiculous, I think to myself. It's only dirt.
I straighten up and stretch my arms toward the darkening sky, hearing a satisfying pop from my neck. Before I bend again to comb through the dirt, my gaze drifts over the land. A shiver runs through me and I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders, ensuring that my hair is successfully tucked into the hood and out of sight. Winter will be here soon.
When I finally finish with the row that previously grew cabbages I'd been checking over, I've filled the wicker basket held against my hip with a total of two tiny, sickly-looking balls of green. They will be tossed into the trash for sure, but if I'd left them in the field, my overseer would've had a fit. I would be blamed, of course, and the others spared. Why? Simple. They are from noble families, encouraged to perform labor in order to acquire a work ethic by their parents, while I am not.
I make my way reluctantly across the field where the produce has been sorted into several different piles and empty my sad, practically empty basket onto the pile of cabbage. It nearly reaches up to my neck.
The girls' eyes follow my every move as I set my basket on the ground near the others and take a seat on one that's been set upside-down. Looking to the west, I carefully avoid their gaze and watch the sun dip lower in the sky. Our shift doesn't end until it touches the horizon, but that won't be for a few minutes yet. Of course, my labor companions decided that they were finished an hour ago.
I groan silently when the ringleader, a tall, rail-thin brunette named Lauren, steps toward me. "Your hands look horrid," she tells me, aghast. I glance down at my hands folded tightly in my lap. Not one glimpse of ivory skin can be seen through the thick layer of dirt caked over it.
I raise my eyes to watch the sun again. There must be only two minutes left until it touches the mountains in the distance, but I know that it will feel like a lifetime. This is always the longest part of the day.
"That tends to happen when you actually work." My reply is monotone; I don't have the energy to inject any venom into it. But somehow, I manage to set her off anyway.
