The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post

piosenniel · 06-05-2003, 04:12 PM

Sophia's post:

The sun rose red over the eastern horizon, and Khasia was awake early. Jasara’s stirring had woken her, and she looked up to hear her softly telling one of the boys that nothing was wrong. Khasia gazed after Jasara as she strode toward the stream, wondering what was on her sister’s mind that woke her so early. Jasara was often distracted.

Khasia lay still for a long moment, savoring the feeling of her warm blankets before the day’s hot work began. Then she stretched and crawled out of her sleep bag. The same boy who had spoken to Jasara sat up again. “You too, Khasia?” he asked. Khasia bundled her sleep bag up and tied it securely before prodding the boy with her toe.

“It’s a fine morning, lazy, and I’m going to run.” Khasia loved to run, just for the feeling of it, and she often ran in the mornings before the sun turned too hot. It gave her solitude—a chance to get away from the irritating fawning of the other young people on her sister. She used the quiet to plan as well. Jasara couldn’t always be right, and where she failed Khasia intended to be right.

This morning was no different than most, and Khasia ran through the short grasses, her bare feet sending up small clouds of dust as they pounded the sunbaked ground. Her shoulder length hair was in braids and the hard knots of fabric she’d used to tie them off bounced against her neck as she ran. When she was a good distance from the tribe’s camp Khasia slowed. She was near the creek, north of the place where Jasara had been headed. When she reached the water she dropped to the ground and drank thirstily. A few of the small berries that grew on the low bushes beside the creek were a sweet reward after her run.

Khasia sat there for a few moments, thinking about the day ahead. It would be long and filled with irritating orders from people whose minds were as wrinkled and faded as their faces. Her face twisted and she spit the seed from a berry into the dirt, burying it absently with a brown toe. For now it must be endured. There weren’t enough of the young people to leave the old and start again. Safety resided in numbers, and for now the old ones were at least good for that.

Setting her face Khasia rose and made her way back to camp. Her pace was a slow jog, giving her plenty of time to mull over her thoughts while she ran. She gave the sun another glance, it’s color still red long after it would usually have turned a fierce yellow. The day was going to be strange, Khasia thought, and wondered vaguely what it would hold.

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

06-05-2003, 04:12 PM	#10
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Sophia's post: The sun rose red over the eastern horizon, and Khasia was awake early. Jasara’s stirring had woken her, and she looked up to hear her softly telling one of the boys that nothing was wrong. Khasia gazed after Jasara as she strode toward the stream, wondering what was on her sister’s mind that woke her so early. Jasara was often distracted. Khasia lay still for a long moment, savoring the feeling of her warm blankets before the day’s hot work began. Then she stretched and crawled out of her sleep bag. The same boy who had spoken to Jasara sat up again. “You too, Khasia?” he asked. Khasia bundled her sleep bag up and tied it securely before prodding the boy with her toe. “It’s a fine morning, lazy, and I’m going to run.” Khasia loved to run, just for the feeling of it, and she often ran in the mornings before the sun turned too hot. It gave her solitude—a chance to get away from the irritating fawning of the other young people on her sister. She used the quiet to plan as well. Jasara couldn’t always be right, and where she failed Khasia intended to be right. This morning was no different than most, and Khasia ran through the short grasses, her bare feet sending up small clouds of dust as they pounded the sunbaked ground. Her shoulder length hair was in braids and the hard knots of fabric she’d used to tie them off bounced against her neck as she ran. When she was a good distance from the tribe’s camp Khasia slowed. She was near the creek, north of the place where Jasara had been headed. When she reached the water she dropped to the ground and drank thirstily. A few of the small berries that grew on the low bushes beside the creek were a sweet reward after her run. Khasia sat there for a few moments, thinking about the day ahead. It would be long and filled with irritating orders from people whose minds were as wrinkled and faded as their faces. Her face twisted and she spit the seed from a berry into the dirt, burying it absently with a brown toe. For now it must be endured. There weren’t enough of the young people to leave the old and start again. Safety resided in numbers, and for now the old ones were at least good for that. Setting her face Khasia rose and made her way back to camp. Her pace was a slow jog, giving her plenty of time to mull over her thoughts while she ran. She gave the sun another glance, it’s color still red long after it would usually have turned a fierce yellow. The day was going to be strange, Khasia thought, and wondered vaguely what it would hold. [ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.