The Girl in the River

Chapter 2

The cottages of Sage's village varied in size but not construction. They were all built out of stone and dug into the ground, looking squat and child sized when compared with their occupants. Each home and its garden was surrounded by a low wall, also built from rocks. This garden area too was dug out, so there were steps from the road to the families' personal outdoor space and then more into the houses themselves.

    Sage hunched her shoulders as she finally reached her own gate and hurried down the steps. What a relief it always was to come home! And today, what a relief to have escaped having to explain her dripping clothes to any neighbours. She felt the triumph of it as she paused to let her eyes adjust to the interior light.

    Her mother came out of the tiny pantry at the back of the main room and exclaimed when she saw her.

    "Sage, you're all wet!"

    "I accidentally dropped everything in the river!" she answered with equal vehemence.

    Her mother laughed at that, and then groaned.

    "How much did you lose?"

    "I don't know, I thought it was less than half but now it feels like I had more. I got most of the big ones back."

    "What a shame, and some of these really shouldn't get wet. Well, lay them out on the table and we'll see what we can save. No, wait, you go hang up your skirt first and I'll do that. You'll just have to stay in this afternoon."

    Sage surrendered her findings and climbed up a ladder to her little loft bedroom. It was low and cramped up there, hot in the summer and cold in the winter, but deliciously private. The rafters were hung or stacked with things she'd collected over the years: dried plants, pebbles, twigs and the like. Anything she'd thought was pretty. Her bed covered most of the space, and there were some strangely shaped pottery containers her father wouldn't have been able to sell that she kept her few spare clothes and extra important treasures in. She spared a glance for the only other skirt she owned as it rested at the very top of one of them. Green, with a winding decorative stitch near the hem. It was a few years old now and worn, but seeing it still made her heart flutter. Not much longer now! Then she untied the brown skirt she was wearing and hooked it to the loft's edge so it swung ominously over the room below. Her shift was damp too but the thinner fabric would dry soon and she didn't want to bother taking her top clothes off to change it.

    Back down in the main room, she helped her mother with the roots and then with supper. After that was far enough along that she was banished to her own devices, she sat down on her end of the women's bench and took her spindle out of its storage pot by her feet.

    "Did you hear Brooks has returned?" Her mother asked as she stirred their stew over the fire.

    "I saw him today for a second, or thought I did." (blushing) "Did he bring his future wife?"

    "They're saying he never got engaged after all, he didn't like that merchant's daughter or she didn't like him - I've heard both sides since this morning. Either way he's back here, and all us mothers have hope again." she glanced back at her daughter with a twinkle in her eye.

    Sage rolled hers in response.

    "If a rich merchant girl from far away can't charm him I don't know what the mothers expect the girls he grew up with to do."

    "I bet my girl could charm him, if she learned how to stop hiding her personality every time she left the house."

    Sage sighed. She didn't hide her personality; it hid from her as well. She couldn't remember how to think when people looked at her, let alone who she was.