The Best Day, Until Tomorrow

In Thread Slivers Ticca is a strong young woman, highly trained in combat and tactics. She didn't start off like that, she was born a farmer's daughter in Rhini Wood far away from the dangers and excitements of the great cities. One of the questions often asked by numerous characters throughout the Golden Threads Trilogy is "Who is Ticca?" Many of the power player characters have something to say on this topic. For example:

"Ticca! Stop killing people I want to torture to death!" -- Duke

"[Ticca] is not what she appeared to be." -- Urio-Larne

"Who is Ticca really?" -- Elades

"This must be Ticca. She really is as young and inexperienced a Dagger as the reports initially suggested. She must have enormous natural talent and be a born leader too. ... Damn she is strong-willed! ... could she be older than she looks? ... Who is this woman?" -- Warlord Maru-Ashua

"....that is the silk sword style of Yalthum blade masters! How could a farming girl raised in the far southern Rhini woods learn that technique?" -- Ditani

"New standing orders: if Ticca comes back, do not oppose her in anything." -- Duke

This is a small peek into Ticca's childhood before she started training as a Dagger answering part of the interesting question, "Who is Ticca?"

* * * *

The world was crushing me. I was being ground into the dirt I was tilling. I felt the weight of the world as it spun in the void of space. The heat made it hard to breathe; while each breath dried my throat and stole precious water from me as I exhaled. My loose cotton shirt, once white now a dull cream from the dust was stained with sweat and dirt. Sweat ran down my back leaving trails that itched worse than insect bites. I wiggled to make my shirt unstick itself from my back for a moment.

Looking down at my chest, I could see the shirt was sticking to my breasts. Well I called them breasts. I kept wishing I didn’t have them or that they’d get off their lazy butts and finish growing out. If I was a boy, my dad might let me hunt instead of till the fields, and if I had proper breasts, my dad would probably treat me more like a girl and let me work in the house where there was at least some shade and plenty of water.

Dad's voice surprised me. “Come on, Ticca. Do you have to stop at every turn? I swear if you just plowed through you’d be nearly done.”

The fields stretched out before me. On my left were the freshly tilled furrows of the rich brown earth, and on my right, the remaining weed-filled uneven field that had been left fallow the last season. I only had a quarter of the field left to do. I figured if I timed this right I could make this all I had to do today.

Sighing loudly, I looked at my Dad who had stopped but not put down the wheelbarrow full of fertilizer. “Dad, Ruli is tired. I’m just giving him a break.”

As if to scold me for the exaggeration, Ruli neighed loudly, looked back at me, and then leaned into his harness, pulling the four blade plow a little.

“Ruli doesn’t seem to agree with you. Ticca, we need to get this field prepared for the planting today.” Dad looked at me for a moment and then shook his head. “You know your mother loved working the land.”

“I’m not Mom. I’m sorry, Dad, really I am, but I don’t want to be a farmer. I like the work a little, but this isn’t me.”

Dad looked at me sadly. I hated it when he looked at me like that, like he was never going to see me again, like Mom. Damn it! I’m not Mom! I’m stronger. I survived the illness that killed her four years ago. Tears started coming to my eyes as I remembered lying in the sick room with her, both of us coughing and choking. We had just celebrated my seventh birthday when Mom had found the dying man in the woods. We thought he had been poisoned by one of the many snakes or spiders in the area. Little did we know, it was far worse.