Snippets of Greatness

Emmeline

Originally written when I was in seventh grade. A few edits done between my sophomore and junior year of high school.

I walk through the cornfield, toting heavy buckets of water. With the sun beating down on my back, I pour their contents over the small plants. It's the beginning of summer, so the corn isn't too tall yet.
Then I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see my good friend Primaveire running towards me. She's a commoner, the daughter of a woodcutter. I'm a farmer's daughter.
"Emmeline!" Primaveire exclaims. She stops in front of me, breathing heavily.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Prince Fredrick and Lord Rupert. Their back from their trip," she says. "Come with me. We're going to see them come through the village!"
"What about Rohesia?" I ask, thinking of our other friend, a servant at the castle.
"She has to help with the banquet that's being held in their honor, but she promised she'd sneak away and come find us."
I nod, and we hurry off to the village.
The main street is packed with people, pushing and shoving to get a better view. Primaveire and I elbow our way towards the front, scanning the crowd for Rohesia.
We spot her over by the candlemaker's shop and go to join her.
"They should be here any minute," I say.
Primaveire looks toward the end of the street and gasps. "There they are!"
I look and see four figures on horseback riding into the village. As they get closer, I notice that there are three men and one woman, all wearing traveling cloaks and dusty boots. Lord Rupert, whose dark hair hangs loose over his shoulders, rides in front next to the royal advisor who accompanied them. Two more horses bring up the rear, carrying Prince Fredrick and a lady unknown to us. Prince Fredrick's blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and he casts random glances into the crowd but does not look at the lady riding next to him.
She holds her head high, an aloof expression on her face. Although her navy blue cloak is dirty around the hem, I can tell that it is made of very fine material. Her hair, so dark it's almost black, flows down her back in waves, and her skin is milky white in contrast.
Then I notice her eyes. A piercing icy blue-grey, they seem to bore right into my soul. I shift my gaze away from them and notice that Prince Fredrick is staring at me also. Realizing that this must be why the lady gave me such an angry look, I cast my eyes downward until I'm sure they've passed.