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Chapter 1: Little Painter

This is an ongoing book that is also under editing. If chapters are missing, that just means that I'm keeping them in draft so that I could edit them. I hope you'll won't be too confused about it.

Little Painter

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Sun has shone throughout the land, its glimmer brought warmth upon the end of nighttime. Another roll of a simple village life with little problems to ponder about, as little as the stars, or perhaps as little as the bud that is yet to sprout in the spring's season if compared to the endless sky of wonder. With what little knowledge known by those in present, they strive to survive in their daily basis, fighting off day to day's hardship with a thin smile at the start of their early hours.

An example is the mother and daughter, living in the woods in a distance not too far from the said village. With only a small living of selling strawberries and mangoes on each harvests, sacks upon sacks are stored for days to end. Life as we know, is a mocking state in which one could live with much harder challenges to face, and in their case, being a single mother and a fatherless child with only themselves to worry about. No one said that being a single mother was easy, but the responsibility was already placed upon, long before our story began.

Madelaide, the mother of her eight-year-old daughter, is the only person responsible to provide for themselves. Not only is she considered an outsider to the village, the woman is one of the few vendors who sells for a living. It's only common for women to manage their homes and cook meals and do laundry, but Madelaide does all including the male's role. All so that her daughter survives into adulthood.

'Perhaps a few silvers would do,' she thought as her mind wanders to the shed, just outside the window where she stood with a long gaze and frown. The crops are in a critical condition this year, pests has been such a nuisance for most farmers, and it seemed to have gotten worse for the years that had come. It matters not for her if it can still feed her little one, the one who, in the corner of her eyes, tries to sneak out again with a little worn brush and linen. "And where are you going, little lady?"

A young girl with eyes as wide as saucers turns to her mother in surprise, "...O-Outside."

"Painting again? With that dress of all that you have?" Madelaide turns to her daughter with a brow raised. The last time she'd done so, her laundry hours extended until sundown just to get the mud off of the stained white dress.

"I would not get dirt on it, mother, I swear!" she gave her the brightest pleading eyes that makes the woman's heart melt the more she stared at her.

Madelaide sighs, clasping her hands together and was about to make her stay inside instead, but then a whine disrupted her speech and a dog comes sitting in between them, ears drooped down and looks at her with big golden eyes. 'These two—!' she bit her lip in awe. Sighing in defeat, the woman had no choice but to give in, "Alright. But you have to be careful this time, (Y/N)." The little girl nodded excitedly and reached for the door, "The dress, darling. And be home before sundown."

"I will, mother!"

Madelaide sighs for the third time in a row before noticing that the dog still hang around by her skirt. She glides her fingers through his soft golden mat of fur, "Do look after her, Honey." The dog barks and comes right after the running child.

A few walks by north and they'd already reach the stream, and by the end of it is the scenic spot that the young girl had come to love and treasure as her own personal territory. Her little waterfalls. The girl unfolded the thick linen, seemingly crumpled with debris from the hardened colors she had painted on it. This doesn't fade out her skills however as the art she'd made days ago was still as near of a nature's design of this wonderful place. The only thing missing in her work is the silhouette of a dog, and that's what made her look at the animal beside her.