Dawn at Dusk

An Introduction

Not so far away, a shock struck the clothed figure who was none-the-wiser of what phenomena this was. The lightning hit the earth as if a starving serpent had finally found its prey. It was an omen that spoke over the noise of the world. 

The air stood still as the hooded one turned to gaze up at the sky above, daring not to breathe. Its grip on the basket tightened, letting the twisted handle made from tree fibers dig into its pale flesh. Cautiously, it pulled back its head covering to reveal soft, dilated hazel eyes that peered knowingly into the sky. She whispered thoughtfully to herself before she moved gracefully through the wooded surroundings. Her environment was a tangle of vines and green roots that sprouted through the soil, which she maneuvered around expertly with the thick footsteps of leather boots. Flowers growing on the moss patched ground bent to her passing. The eyebrows on her forehead drew close in concern while her lips moved to form soundless words.

"Not right at all," she mumbled, letting the worn gravel path guide her footsteps. Her stature was tall and looking towards a new beginning. The woods opened gracefully into an open meadow, tender and damp from the morning dew. The sky opened to the orange light of the sun who peaked just beyond the tree line. It gracefully surfed the skies as the woman bent to uproot obscure roots and flowers from the earth. As she laid them in the basket, the playful breath of the breeze pulled at the hastily tied up hair. 

Winter crept closer to the valley's people as the days shortened and the nights peeled by slowly. To Esel, it bode harsh days. The first ice would arrive sooner than usual and she wondered how doubtful it was that her garden would make it through the season. Each year it felt like winter knocked on the doorstep of Glòir further into the autumn. This wasn't a particularly large town, but it and the families who lived here have cultivated agriculture for centuries. The stones of the town have seen more than any man.   

The families who reside here are deeply rooted in tradition and have brought up generations of children in Glòir. It was a place that have seen the toils of rebellion and conflict throughout its history, but peace was a welcomed blanket that has fallen over the area and surrounding clans for decades. Life went on through death.

Esel's mother arrived years ago while Esel herself was still a toddler. Her mother was a closed off woman and seldom spoke of her own history. She was taken in as a herbalist and healer for the chieftain. From the time that Esel knew her mother and until her death, she knew very little of where her mother took her from other than the long travel. However, she doubted the eventfulness of her early childhood. The most she could remember was a small house in a place she only knows as being "down south". 

After a quarter hour, she found herself bounding the stairs to the place she called a second home. After her mother's abrupt death two years ago, Esel was the only candidate to fill in as the local herbalist. It was something she found to be difficult in the beginning. Her predecessor, despite being in the clan for only a decade and a half, grew to become a legend and before the body was cold the attention was turned to Esel to fill the void. Admittingly, her mother was a cold person. She relished in her work and spent little time socializing to the people around her. Her work with the chieftain took priority above all and even her own prodigy.  

Through it all, it's hard to smother the imagination of a child. Because of her own mother's occupation and temporary residence in the castle, Esel had the privilege of mixing with children of more prominent class standings. To children, social classes didn't exist. Everyone was equal other than the fastest kid or the kid who could drink the most milk in a single sitting. Nanny was someone Esel looked up to to this day, she was able to drive the children like cattle but still filled the void that her mother left. 

"Miss Banfield," the woman repeated.

Esel blinked out of her trance, her cheeks reddening from her misstep as she turned towards the caller. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Young! I'm stuck in my head again, forgive me."

The woman was middle aged, the lines above her brows creased in annoyance. She is one of the head maids and held that title on her sleeve. "I'll have you know, that my husband has suffering under that blasted sickness."

The younger of the two nodded, "I realize that and I'm deeply sorry for his illness, but I'm confident that the mixture of tea leaves each morning will soothe the ache in his throat."

Mrs. Young wrinkled her nose, "Surely there is a better ailment."

Pursing her lips, Esel looked down at her basket and pulled a handkerchief from her gown. "If," she began, glancing up at the woman, "If he isn't spry in two days time, I suggest knowing the whereabouts of your husband. Last I've seen him he was trying to tend to the horses at the castle stables last evening when I repeatedly told him to stay bed ridden."

"At the stables? Who do you think I am?" The head maid looked aghast. "You, my dear, have far more things to worry about than my  husband. In the very least, I did not waste my prime to become a cursed spinster." As suddenly as the woman came, she left without another word. 

Esel stood silently, wondering what to say before numbly closing the gap between her lips. Her brashness proceeded her again. She wasn't sure if she was suppose to be angry or begin to cry. Perhaps both? Before she could even decide she noticed a young servant catch her gaze and slip away before she could confront him. 

She decided to sigh and retreated towards the dinner hall to confront her hunger.