being nearly dead

Almost grown

She rubbed the hem of her dress between her fingertips. It was her twelfth birthday and her mother wanted her to be dressed smartly when they went to Church. Then again, every Sunday she wanted them to dress smartly, appear more dignified in front of God, she guessed. She'd never been as religious as Felix, he appeared to be the only one who took after their mother in that department.

Luna was too busy trying to set things on fire, Silas read too much and Nix was hitting on too many women to notice there was a sky, let alone heaven above it. So that left Felix to God and Cara to inherit her mother's sewing skills.

She walked along the dusty road by herself. The service had ended and her mother and her siblings went on ahead as she asked to talk to God. This was a simple cover up for her to walk alone. She waited a few minutes until she knew Felix would have started a race with his older siblings, although they were much older, Nix twenty-two already, the challenge presented itself far too great for them to deny.

She kicked a rock ahead of her as the sun set behind her. She turned to watch it for a second then got bored and started ambling down the pathway again. Her siblings had been fussing over her all day, Nix had told her she was getting too big to climb on his shoulders, Silas was annoyed that their little games and tea parties would be ending soon, Luna still wanted her to come on covert missions with her to wreak havoc and Felix was beginning to notice she wasn't paying as much attention when he blew smoke rings. A vice he wouldn't yet recognise.

She twirled in the dress and for a moment felt pretty. She passed the old blacksmith building, it had been abandoned years before she was born and still wasn't sure why. Some of the bricks were falling or have already fallen from the walls, the door was off its hinges and past that it was too creepy for her to want to ask about. She was dutiful in listening to the folklore of the land from the children at school and usually made a note to stay clear from it.

There was a rumour that one of the smiths went mad, burnt his hand to the bone and then the skeleton of it grabbed an axe and murdered eleven people. She wasn't sure she believed that but it still sent a chill down her spine to walk past it.

She looked ahead and didn't notice the three boys emerge from the door, in one of their cases from the empty window, and creep up on her. The oldest boy, perhaps sixteen, presented himself first and bent down to show her his face and he walked alongside her.

"Hello, little lady, what are you doing here all on your own?" he asked in Catalan as his two friends came into view.

She watched them carefully. "I'm... on my way home, that's all," she replied almost brokenly in the same language. She was better at Latin and Spanish and didn't practise much Catalan although her mother said it was being introduced.

They eyed her strangely. "From the parish, I assume?" the second boy asked her.

She nodded. "Yes... it is my birthday today..."

"Really?" the third boy asked and looked between his friends.

"We must celebrate then!" the first boy exclaimed and stood ahead of her, blocking her way.

She shook her head and tried to pass him, but his friends and took their places beside him. "My parents are expecting me," mother, she thought, my mother and my brothers and sister are expecting me.

"Oh, we won't be very long, how old are you turning?" the second one asked as they began backing her up.

She looked between them anxiously now. "Twelve..." her heart began beating hard in her chest. She'd be considered a near woman at twelve. She'd start her period soon and she'd be able to have children. Luna had sat her down a week before and told her of all the dangers foreigners presented to her for this reason. She swallowed hard at what she implied now.