Darkness surrounded the dreamer and only one small light poured down on a figure in the distance. The figure was small young woman sitting alone in a chair slowly rocking back and forth staring, but never seeing. A little girl crawled into the light toward the rocking woman, peering up at her from beneath the fringe of white hair that glowed in the stark light. For a time, there was only the sound of the woman rocking back before, but when she did notice the young child near her lap a gasp escaped from her lips.
“Who are you!” the woman she shrieked. Horrified she pulled back from the girl curling tightly into the chair. The little girl began to cry choking back her tears while staring at the woman. She reached forward with her hand to touch the woman before her.
“Don’t touch me, ghost!” The woman further pulled more tightly into a ball nearly tipping backwards her chair. In fear, the little girl jerked her hand away and whispered a single word as tears poured down her face.
“Mama?”
“Stay away…” the woman, whimpered. She made herself as small as possible grasping her knees to her chest and clenching her eyes shut willing the apparition to disappear.
The girl hesitantly began to reach again, but seeing woman tremble, she only balled her hand into a fist to let it drop in her own lap. With clenched fists at her side and tears flowing easily from her eyes she stood slowing. For a few moments, she stared at the trembling woman willing her to look her way. Yet, the woman continued her quiet sobs and clenched position, and in time the little girl turned away taking ever small steps out of the light and into the darkness.
---A---
The dreamer now awakened, thankful for the early sunlight filtering through the window instead of the darkness that filled her dream. Her legs had become twisted in her sleep and she had to slowly work her hands from the clenched grip. Slowly she groaned and stretched her muscles working each one lose from their tense state before pushing herself to sit on the edge of her bed.
The dream was not a new one to her and in fact had been a recurring nightmare that at times even haunted her waking thoughts. It wasn’t just a dream though—it was also a memory; one of the few memories that remained from her childhood. Now the little girl was a young woman, somewhere around 30 years of age. Her age is unknown because her mother never told her how old she was or when she was born. Furthermore, it is likely the young woman was given a name when she was baby, like most Farragorns would. Yet, no one can recall what name she was given. After sent to live with neighbors when her mother went insane, she was called Ann, but that was short for Anomaly to describe her unusual nature. So in fact, this young woman doesn’t have a name, but for the sake of argument let’s herself be called Ann.
She was a young woman without much of an identity and she had became quite comfortable with the idea. She was just Ann to everyone she met and for most that was enough for them, but they couldn’t help but stare. When she was little, she wore scarves on her head and often was asked by her caretakers to wear a hood whenever appropriate. At first it was annoying—why did she have to wear something on her head when none of the other children did? When her scarf slipped though, she heard the remarks:
“Your hair is white!”
“What’s wrong with your hair? Are you sick?”
“My grandmother has hair like yours”
Indeed, Ann’s hair was white as snow from birth. She learned very quickly that this was very strange. Only old people had white hair. The country people of Farragorn often had blond or brunette hair, like the color of the grain they harvested every autumn. No one had white hair.
The chiding and teasing got worse as she got older. Children just simply didn’t know how to keep quiet, but it was better than the adults. The adults just lied. They said to her how pretty and unusual her hair is, but Ann saw how often many of them were also repulsed and confused by her appearance.
Then her eyes started to change.
When she was born one eye was a nice pale green and the other blue. Sure, it’s a little odd, but it has happened before. What wasn’t normal, is that blue gradually turned darker and more vivid. By her teenage years, it was undoubtedly a vibrant violet color, that is of course if she would ever turn her head up.
Ann knew she wasn’t normal. Even, worse, she knew that others didn’t think she was normal either. Without looking at a person, she could sense their disgust, confusion, and sometimes hatred of her. She had never done a thing wrong to anyone, but she was despised and rejected. Which is why she began travelling not long after finishing her education. She wanted to get away.
At first it was hard being only 15 or 16 years old, but she fell in with some travelling merchants for a time. They too were uncomfortable with her appearance, but were more familiar with the bizarre and couldn’t refuse hardworking able hands. She became quite skilled at the travelling life learning everything she could, but merchants never travelled during the winter. When winter came she was left without a home. The first winter, she worked in a low-end tavern in the rotting back alleyways of a large town. She learned about the desires of men. Incidentally, she also learned how to fight.
The first time, a man pressed upon her heavily in a corner, she was gratefully for the kitchen knife in her hand that she was supposed to be returning to the cook. The sickly sweet smell and words of the man stopped short when he felt the prick of it between his ribs. At first, the man pressed forward even more, but without a threat or a word, Ann just simply held the blade firm and her eyes hard. Even in his drunken stupor, the man wasn’t a fool. No man, let alone a drunk one would have dared to touch a woman with stare like hers. The man recoiled fast, tripping over a chair in the process. The look on her face reminded him of his mother, when he had done something very, very wrong. Without a look he stumbled off, dabbing at the slight blood stain on his shirt from the scratch Ann had made. From then on, she carried at least one blade on her and it kept her safe.
When spring came again, she was on the move, much older and wiser than before. She stayed with the merchants for a while longer, until she was fortunate to meet up with a tribe of nomads. The nomads were puzzled by her appearance as well, for they had never seen a purple eye or white hair, but it was with fascination. The moment a strand of white hair slipped from under her scarf, they flocked to her. They loudly clamored and chatted like birds, flittingly pulling her hair from under her scarf with deft hands, before Ann could say a word. It made her uncomfortable, but they said and meant only happy words. For the first time, she felt accepted. She spent the night in their camp enjoying their songs, banter, and play and fell asleep in the late hours of the night. When morning came, she left with them. She was the first outsider ever accepted into a Mohari tribe—the white child among the ebony.
This Mohari tribe were much like the merchants, selling their wares, but in addition they were performers! They sang beautiful songs and had dancers that flitted across the earth as if weighing nothing at all. Jugglers would fling into the air beautiful colorful scarves and in the next moment the glint of a knife would be caught into their hands. They sold their performances to any village or town that would allow them to stay. Ann learned a few of their secret crafts, but could never keep up. When the performances started, she was sent out into the audience to collect compensation for the tribes performance. In the dim light of the campfire, among the Farrgons no one noticed her white hair or dual colored eyes so she was able to experience the show just like any one of the audience without attention on her.
Travelling with the tribe, she learned that not all Mohari are like this tribe. Some would spend all their years travelling in the deserts near the Mica Mountains, never appearing to any but themselves. Furthermore, not all celebrated in the same way. While Ann’s tribe made things and performed, some tribes were only performers or only craftsman. In any case, all celebrated life and commemorated their journey through tattoos that covered their skin. She lived quite comfortably learning their skills and in return, she helped as needed.
Occasionally, when they were was little in the campsites to be done or someone needed something to be fetched from a nearby town, Ann was sent. Since, she was allowed the freedom to roam as she pleased, she often visited the more seedy parts of town. Ever since her first work at the tavern, she longed to be able to defend herself better and better. Many of the cities and larger towns had small fighting competitions in the dark hours of the night.
Ann at first was rejected as a woman, so she learned to shorn her hair to a boy’s length and dress like the local men. She observed many of the fights and would practice early in the morning when the Mohari still slept. After a few months though, she started to compete. Of course, she was beaten often, but after a while she started to win.
She learned that sometimes, she knew when someone would jab at her face, or when that swing was meant to distract from the knee coming up. She began to be able to see how to avoid the swings and kicks. Where she had first relied on her strength, she began to use her lithe body to dodge the hits and in turn hit smaller, but more crucial parts of the body.
In these parts of town, she also learned about weapons and the unlawful uses of medicine. As the men began to see her as a respected fighter, they were willing to teach her more. In particular, she found herself drawn to different types of knife fight. Some taught her how to defend, while other how to attack. She also learned an ability to throw knives.
Learns weapon fighting—throwing knives
Mohari have no place for fighting, but they allow her to stay
Ann not fully accepted, never allowed a tattoo
Time with tribe ends when she beats head person in a fighting dojo, town pushes the tribe out of town. Ann is disgraced and asked to leave
Ann begins travelling from town to town by herself
Gains in skill of “reading truth” in people
No comments:
Post a Comment