The Blade and The Bird

Chapter 2

The crisp early morning breeze drifted through the window when Sidra awoke. The cry of the rooster had pulled her from her slumber, as it did most mornings. She sat up and stretched the stiffness out of her limbs in the early dawn glow pouring through the windows. She felt the cold as she climbed out from the covers of her bed and went over to her pile of clothes to dig for something clean to do her chores in for the day. Once she found something to wear she dressed quickly and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen to find her grandmother.

"Good morning," she said to her Grandmother, who appeared to have been awake for hours as she worked away in the kitchen. Sidra could feel the heat of the fire in the kitchen as her grandmother worked. Though the two shared a room, Sidra never heard when her grandmother awoke and slipped back to work in her kitchen.

"Ah, good morning, dear," her grandmother said as she placed a plate of eggs in front of Sidra. It was nice that her Grandmother took the time to do this each morning, it reminded her that a hearty breakfast was the best way to begin the day.

"Thank you," Sidra took a bite and enjoyed the flavor of the warm eggs on her tongue. It was one of those comforts she never grew tired of, the first bite of a warm meal in the cold mornings.

"Of course, you know what I always say about a healthy breakfast," her grandmother said.

Sidra smiled at her grandmother around a large mouthful of eggs. Sidra enjoyed these small moments with Grams in the morning. Selene slept in rather late each day since she was tired so often. It gave Sidra time in the morning to chat with her grandmother before she started her work for the day.

"I'm going out to train and do the chores," Sidra said as she finished the last bite of egg on her plate. "We need a bit more firewood."

"Alright, don't work too hard out there," her grandmother said as Sidra stood up from the table. She took her plate into the kitchen to give it a quick wash before preparing to start the chores of the day. They were self-assigned chores to take on the heavy work around the household. Grams was too old and Selene too frail to chop firewood or maintain the yard, so Sidra took it on, plus, it let her feel useful. She grabbed her jacket and laced her boots before opening the front door.

Sidra braced herself for the cold when she opened the front door. The way the chill felt in the mornings was far different than it felt in the evenings. The morning cold always gave way to warmer afternoons, but afternoon chill sat in the air, becoming colder as the stars rose into the sky. Sidra had always preferred the mornings.

She walked over the shed a few paces away from the house and pulled out her father's practice dummies she had been using for several years. Sidra didn't have many memories of her father left, they faded away with time, though she still missed both him and her mother dearly. Though she could no longer remember the sound of their voices or the way they smelled, she had fragments of memories of her father teaching her how to fight. A sad smile crossed her face as she remembered the arguments he'd get into with her mother. The two had always been at odds about it, her mother saying a woman shouldn't fight and her father arguing that protection was something all people should know.

Sidra didn't know if she still practiced with these dummies to protect herself, sure, it had come in handy a few times. Once, when she was a few years younger, she had thought she'd gotten away with stealing a pastry from the bakery in town, but someone had seen and tried to call the guards forward. She'd protected herself then when she'd shoved her elbow hard into the chest of the man holding her, he had fallen back and let go, gasping for air, and she'd had enough time to run away before she'd been caught. It wasn't one of her best memories, and she'd dropped the pastry during the run, but she liked that she'd bested someone much stronger than her. She practiced with the dummies now as a ritual to keep her father's memory alive. She could hear the way he'd correct her form or tell her to try harder when she was out here in the mornings.