The Wilting Rose

Chapter 8- Stars in a World gone Dark

The next morning, Jatt was shaking me awake. “Get up and get dressed lazy!” he crowed. I stared at him, uncomprehending of his words, as it was dark and cold and my bed was warm. His words never reached me, and I rolled over with full intentions of going back to sleep. He shook me again and I absentmindedly swatted at him. He seized my wrist and pulled me up out of the bed. I growled, and he laughed. “Oh then, I guess we’ve changed our mind about making breakfast.”  I shook my head.

                “Whattimeisit?” I was groggy and grumpy, not to mention more than a little tired. Jatt rolled his eyes, and made a point of telling me it was no later than 5:00, and if I didn't want to be late, I should get a move on. I scooted out of bed, and ran a comb through my hair, throwing it up in a neat ponytail. I washed my face in a little basin Jatt had set out for me.

        Then, I ran out of the house, hoping I was not too late to make breakfast. I realized too soon, I had never asked where the barn was, so I ran back. Jatt was waiting for me. “Up the mountain and to your left.” I smiled at him, and sprinted up the mountain he had pointed to. Then, I took a sharp left and found myself looking at Yim.

        Behind Yim was a rustic and peaceful old building. I found myself smiling, at the old gates and classic red loft. Though the paint was peeling and the fences were clearly not store bought, the place had a quiet charm about it that I couldn’t explain. Yim gestured around her, a small smile on her face. “Pretty, isn’t it?” She asked.

        I let my tired eyes shut as I breathed in the chilly farm air. “What are we making?” I wondered, and Yim let her smile widen. “Whatever you want, Rose.” I looked at her, and returned her smile. “Call me Rosy.” She shook her head. “Nicknames are unprofessional. Not to mention, if I were to give you a nickname, it would be,” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Tiger.” I smiled, thinking about what Jatt had said to my father in the memory.

        “I can see her now, a 16 year old tiger…” I accepted the nickname with joy, and thought about what I wanted for breakfast. It was chilly out, and I thought something hot would be nice. Pancakes, maybe, or an omelet.

        “Maybe we could make omelets?” I suggested, and Yim nodded her approval. “Okay, go grab some eggs, and I’ll come with you.” She pointed towards a pen with a group of noisy hens pecking at the ground. “”First, we have to go over here.”  Yim was walking to an old shed, and I tagged along, curious. She flung open the doors and there was a bag of seeds, and a couple bales of hay.

        She grabbed a small handful of seeds and walked back at the chickens. She scattered the seeds, and the chickens all ran to it. Yim then smiled and collected a few eggs from where the hens had been sitting. “Why only that many?” I questioned, and she gave me a withering stare.

        “Because the rests we will need for future breakfasts, unless you want to starve, or worse, go to market.” I looked away. Yim put a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at her. “These ones were going to rot anyways. I’m glad you suggested omelets.” She was lying through her teeth, but it made me feel better. Next, we went to a small garden around back, and plucked a couple of herbs from the dirt. I ate one raw, and so did Yim. Although I was shocked by the spice and spit it out, Yim chewed it for a long while before spitting it out.

        Once we were back at Jatt’s fort, Yim started a small fire. It crackled and burned as she cooked the omelet over it. I licked my lips, and Yim smiled. Once the omelets were cooked, she went to the pantry and got some fresh milk to drink with it. Even though the purpose was to show me how hard it was to make breakfast, what it really showed me was it was rewarding to do things yourself.