Night of the Wolf - Chapter One
Damp earth under her pads, the scents of rotting trees, leaf mold thick in her nose as it rises with each step. The smell of death in a region thick with life. The cry of a bird as it takes sudden flight, the angry chattering of a squirrel disturbed in it’s search for nuts. The faint sound of the shy deer, quietly moving through the thickets, followed by the even softer sound of her fawn. All these she caught on the edges of her thoughts, though she paid them no mind, she was on a journey.
Kyrstania sat there, a sigh escaping her as she listened to the droning of her Aunt Josephine, explaining to her the necessity of embroidery. What did she care about the procurement of a husband, not when the day was bright with the early spring weather. She gave another sigh as she looked out the window and was rewarded for her inattention with rap across the hand.
“Pay attention, girl.” Her aunt commanded as she looked at her young charge, attempting to daydream her life away. Why on earth did her brother let her run wild for so long, she should have been sewing years ago, now at twelve she was a willful and wanton child.
Wincing and pulling her hand back she pushed down a glare and turned her attentions back to her aunt as she rubbed at her hand. “I was paying attention, but I don’t see why I have to worry about finding a husband now, father won’t marry me off for years yet.”
Impudent as well, her aunt thought. “Because child, you must have the skills already before that time, or else it will be too late. A man does not want a wife who is lazy and unable to provide comfort to him. A wife must strive to provide a warm home filled with the comforts a man expects to come home too. After all, he is the one who is providing the house, the food and the means to keep you there. It is but right for the wife to make his time at home as comfortable to him as possible.”
“But what about the wife's comfort?” Krystania asked quietly, a question that earned her another rap, this time much harder. As she nursed her fingers, her aunt replied.
“What? Living in a house, with a roof over your head, warm clothes and food in your belly isn’t comfort enough? You ungrateful child. Many a woman don’t even have that. Take a look out on the streets sometime. Is that where you want to live? A woman who can’t provide the simplest of comforts is doomed to a life of poverty and strife. It is up to you to be better than them, so that you may procure a husband and live comfortably.”
During this explanation the door opened and the young servant boy, Daniel, poked his head in. “Ma’am? The Master would like to see you.” He addressed her aunt as soon as she took a moment to breath.
Josephine nodded once to the boy and then eyed the girl. “Don’t think I’m done with you. You still have a long way to go before you have any hope of becoming a proper and decent lady.”
With the way she said it, it sounded as if she had no hope that that would ever happen. Krystania sighed again after her aunt left and looked down at the object that had brought on this tirade, a simple scrap of cloth with very uneven stitching across it. She still couldn’t see why something like making a picture on cloth could be important in making a life later on.
Course, there were a great many things which she didn’t understand the necessity for. How to curtsy and even how to artfully faint. Such things seemed trivial and completely lacking in dignity. She shook her head a bit and decided to take advantage of the respite and snuck out of doors.
Now, that was a skill she found entirely useful, moving around without being noticed. Oh, how her aunt would swoon with distress if she knew that she spent much of her free time with Daniel learning little tricks like sneaking around. She gave a smile at that as she meandered down the street.