Am I a Villainess?

To Grandmother's House we Go

I woke to the smell of my mother cooking something. There was a pheasant roasting over the fire. My mother was tending to the flames. She served me silently and I ate without complaint, even though the meat was plain. It needed lemon, rosemary, black pepper, salt, and maybe some roasted onion. My mother was no chef. But the meat was cooked thoroughly and filled my stomach.

My mothers familiar paced around the camp, her snowy ears twitched along with her nose. Her muzzle was dirty with blood and she stilled. Cectli turned her head to look at me. We stared at each other for a time before she went back to her patrol.

I had not spent too much time with my mothers familiar. She was a creature who preferred the outdoors. I preferred the comforts of my father's castle and the feel of sand between my toes. She liked the wild dark places.

"What does Cectli mean?" I asked my mother.

"Snow, or ice. In the old tongue." Celeste sighed. "I suppose I've neglected that part of your studies."

She looked off into the distance with a vacant expression.

I started to gather my things and kicked the dirt onto the fire. That distracted my mother from her thoughts.

"I don't think we have ever gone camping. How did you know what to do?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "Fire needs to breathe."

Celeste nodded and packed up the rest of our things. She loaded it onto our saddles and got our horses ready. Mine was a white pony with a black mane. I called her Kaja when my father gave her to me as a present last year.

Celeste had a large black horse with white to her knee. She named her horse Akilah.

We rode long. I am not a person prone to complaining when it matters. But I was not yet five. My stamina was not great. No matter how much I love horses.

Celeste finally noticed my exhaustion and stopped her horse. She set up a simple lean tent and told me to nap while she scavenged for something edible. Thorns and briars grew around the tent to keep me safe.

We continued like this for a month. Sometimes I was so sore I cried and my Mother would strap me to her chest with a cloth, cradling me like a baby. She had me chew on roots to alleviate the pains and aches. There were times she made a healing salve and rubbed them on my arms and legs.

One day we arrived at a waterfall. My mother set me down and sang a low melody in her language.

The waters parted and we passed through the waterfall. Guards approached, they greeted her with open arms and smiles.

Grandmother emerged from the crowd and spotted me. She grasped my mother in a tight hug then plucked me from her arms.

"The road was difficult, but you're home now. Rest." She touched my forehead and I fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke the next day in a hanging wicker bed, surrounded by flowers and vines.

I looked around and tried to figure out how to reach the floor.

There was a length of rope hanging from overhead, I reached up and tugged pulling the rope and bed up and down. I though I was doing well, until I lost my grip and the bed fell. The drop wasn't long, but it was still jarring.

I let out a small yelp from the sudden drop.

I climbed out of the bed and took in my surroundings. The architecture here was different from what I was used to. My father's house was made of sturdy stone, however the interior heavily used marble and metal accents,usually gold. It was a mix of classical and rococo.