The light from the first morning sun shone through the crack from the corner of the bear hide that covered the opening of my bed hut. "Ugg" I growled. "Maybe if I close my eyes tight enough the day will go away". You would think I'd be greeting this day with excitement instead of dread, you see Today is my name day. I can still hear my mother screaming after me as I left her ranting at the fire last night. "Hanna, why can't you feel excited and be proud that you were born on such a day, like Leigh and Fennel are?"
I was born nineteen years ago, along with two of my clan sisters Leigh and Fennel. I have been dreading this day for the last ten years, or for as long as I could understand that this day would change my life forever. All three of us were born on the night of the three moons. My entire clan believes this to be a grand boon from Mother Goddess herself. I see it as an unforgivable "non-blessing" that the Goddess has bestowed on me. You see only a child born on the night of the three moons can become the Matriarch of the clan. It seems I am the only one in my village that sees this as a curse.
From the moment of my birth you could see I was different, as I matured the differences became more obvious. Oh I do have the build that distinguishes me as a Northerner I'm at an average height of 6' 8" although the length is in my legs not my torso like the rest of my clan. My hair is long, and straight, about an inch below my waist and a light red in color to the contrast of the dark curly hair of my clan sisters. I have golden bronze skin with light green eyes round in shape compared to the golden brown almond shape eyes that's very common among my people. "Those long legs of yours, Hanna, give you speed and agility. That makes you fast and hard to catch, you will make a fine runner and tracker. I swear your sire must have some of the ancient Elven in his blood line". My teacher would proclaim at least once during each of my training exercises. The Goddess only knows why my Grandmother chose my sire for my mother. She must have seen something of import that should be passed on.
My clan is ran by the Matriarch and her counsel. They make all the important decisions regarding the clan. Do we go to war? Who we go to war with, who we trade with, should we stay in the valley through the winter or head south? Whatever they decide is always accepted no questions asked. The women are the warriors of the clan. We are trained almost at birth how to fight and we will fight to the death against any clan who thinks they are strong enough to take what we have. So far no clan has ever led a successful raid on our village. The sires (males) perform the daily tasks of foraging, farming, cooking and breeding. Most of the women treat the males like cattle, beasts of burden. But not my mother. I remember being embarrassed by the gentle way my mother treated my sire. I can still hear the whispers from the other clan women belittling her for the weakness she showed regarding my sire. "Petra is a cub, she has lost her roar when it comes to that sire of hers" My mother never acted like she heard their teasing. But whenever we would be walking through the middle of the village and happen to witness a sire being punished at the whipping post, mother would loudly proclaim to me so the whole village would hear "No beast, man nor animal should be treated with disrespect. Remember this Hanna!" As I became older I began to admire my mother for the same weakness I was embarrassed by as a child.
My mother was not only blessed with kindness, and compassion by the Goddess, she is also quite beautiful. Her skin is more of a light oak in color than a golden bronze; she is two inches taller than I. She has very dark, almond shaped eyes that sparkle when she laughs like a glimpse of sunlight that hits a piece of polished onyx just right. Her cheek bones are high, and her lips are red and plump like the wild berries that grow along the walking path. When she smile her teeth shine like pearls. Her head is adorned with tight black curls that glisten in the sunlight with the clove scented oil she would place in her hair every night before bed. The sent would comfort me as she held and rocked me when I was ill as a child. Her breasts are perfect pillows, soft and cushiony I remember thinking while resting my head against them as a young girl when she would tell me a story at night by the fire. Her torso is firm and long, her hips big and plump. To me my mother is the embodiment of perfection. My sire is called Sol, is average in looks and build. His hair is straight and long falling just passed his broad shoulders, and more red than brown, which is uncommon amongst the males of our clan, along with his light skin and eyes, and very long legs. My sire is a kind and gentle man. One of my fondest memories is bouncing atop his broad shoulders laughing and squealing as he galloped and whinnied like a pony around the gardens he tended. Mother would be busy at sword play with one of the young boys my sire had charge of. My sire would always bring the same light haired boy with him every day. In all my years I had with my sire growing up I can only remember him bringing two of the charges in his care.
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Hanna's Choice. BookOne of The Amazon Series
RomansaA time when women were the warriors, and men were treated like slaves, until one warrior decided things needed to change.
