The Weavling

Chapter 1

 Eleanor opened an eye, then shut it immediately when the light from her small window practically blinded her. She could feel her heartbeat drumming an erratic rhythm in her chest. The terror of the dream she had just experienced had left her clammy with sweat. She pulled her damp cotton shirt away from herself. Trying to regulate her breathing and calm down, Eleanor rolled onto her back. She wasn't at all eager to get up, but she wanted to escape the tight dread that the dream had infected her with. She opened her green eyes, and saw her familiar bedroom. The unimpressive but comforting wooden walls helped to clear her head and pull her further out of dreamland.

It was just a nightmare, she told herself. And nightmares are a good thing.

Tumbling out of bed, she trudged downstairs, where her sister Meredith was throwing together a quick breakfast.

"Good morning," Eleanor muttered. Her voice was scratchy from sleep. Her sister shook her head at her.

"If you would get up at six like I do, you'd be ready to run the entire length of the wall without stopping by the time school starts," she advised.

Eleanor groaned, both at the prospect of waking up at six, and the idea of running the length of the wall that surrounded the kingdom. She grabbed two wooden bowls from a stack on the corner of the table, then filled each with yogurt, which Meredith had set out for her. She dropped them onto the table, then walked back upstairs and into her older and younger sisters' shared room. There were two beds in the room. One, with a purple quilt, occupied the left wall. A gray-quilted bed sat against the opposite wall.

Eleanor walked to the left as she entered the room, and approached the bed with the indigo-dyed quilt. The quilt had a lump in the middle, indicative of the girl that was under it. Eleanor grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it away, revealing Abigail, her six-year-old sister. The angel-faced child opened her brown eyes sleepily, grunted, and attempted to pull the blanket back over herself.

"Let me go back to sleep!" she complained, twitching her fingers slightly.

Eleanor felt a prickling sensation at the base of her skull and tingling in her fingers, both signs that someone was Weaving. She grinned knowingly.

"You're not persuading me to leave you alone any time soon, with or without Weaving, dear one," she said as she scooped her sister up. Eleanor carried Abigail all the way downstairs, giggling and flailing, before setting her down on the ground.

"You're downstairs now, might as well eat some breakfast and get ready for school," said Eleanor. Meredith laughed from where she was chopping some strawberries into little pieces. She scooped them into a bowl and grabbed some spoons, then walked up to the table and presented her masterpiece with a regal bow. Abigail applauded, her face serious. Eleanor grinned again at the melodramatic performance, and Abigail's perfect reaction.

 How can it be possible to love two people so much?  she wondered as she ate her breakfast. Her sisters were so much different from her. Eleanor glanced at Meredith, then at Abigail. They couldn't have looked more different. Meredith had their mother's curly blonde hair and the green eyes that most people in the kingdom had. Her eyes constantly shone with mirth and outgoing energy, and she often entertained Eleanor with her extroverted nature. On the other hand, Abigail had dark brown hair, as their father did, with eyes to match. Her sweet, innocent demeanor allowed her to use her Weavling powers without being perceived as dangerous, which couldn't be said for many of the people who shared her abilities and eye color.

 As Eleanor pondered, she saw Meredith look at her, as if noticing that her mind was elsewhere.

"What are you thinking about?" Meredith asked, smiling at her. Eleanor blinked, realizing that she was being addressed. Rather than admit to her sisters what she had really been thinking about, she decided to tell them about the nightmare she had had.