She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun and cool water on her skin, the quietness of this tranquil and secluded mountain brook soothing her anxious thoughts. If only this moment could last for longer, but she knew the chamberlain would soon be missing her. He already had a list of a hundred tasks she needed to complete in the castle's eastern wings, and he wanted them done this afternoon. He was the hardest taskmaster she'd worked for, but she couldn't complain. She was given a roof over her heard, two square meals a day, and...warm clothes to cover her unusual skin. This island boasted a hot climate – very different from the cool winters and mild summers she knew back home – and it was only in moments like this could she uncover her shoulders and arms and really breathe. Really be free...
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Her fingers traced the intricate designs that seemed to glow from beneath her skin on her arms, and she thanked whatever God was listening for allowing her to live another day in relative comfort. Relative, since so many of her kind were left behind, daisies growing in the dirt where their slain bodies lay. Her family was feared, hated, and hunted, but she kept fighting to remain anonymous in a dark and cruel world. Her secret was safe for now.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't—oh my."
She gasped and turned at the deep voice that shattered the afternoon silence. A boy, perhaps not much older than herself, stumbled over the slippery rocks on the bank as he stared at her wide-eyed. She quickly grabbed her coat and threw it over her undergarments.
"What is on your skin? It's amazing," he splashed closer to her but she backed away to the other side of the flowing stream, her mouth dry as her heart pounded in fear. He had seen her! "Wait. I won't hurt you," he continued, his dark blue eyes more curious than cunning, his outstretched hands open and honest instead of cruel and concealing daggers. "I'm Derek, and....and I didn't mean to scare you. I was just riding through and wanted to water my horse. I'm sorry for disturbing you," his voice, half-boy's/half-man's, seemed sincere.
She regarded him for another moment before speaking. "I'm...I'm Orella. I was just leaving. I will leave you....to water your horse," she stuttered as her eyes flickered to the gentle beast that plodded up and affectionately nudged Derek's broad shoulder.
"Maybe I'll see you again...here," he called softly as she walked quickly up the bank. Was that hope in his voice? Or veiled sleaze?
"Maybe," was all she said before she disappeared into the sun-drenched forest. Her heart hammered with the unexpectedness of the meeting. Would he pursue her and hand her over to the authorities? Would he expose her secret and have her killed—just for being different?
She stayed away from the brook for a week, but when she thought it safe and dared to venture back, she found him there. He saw her before she could turn and hide, and so began their unlikely friendship.
He never condemned her for the strange markings on her skin, but rather showed a keen fascination and sympathy for her story. She learned he too worked at the castle, as a knight, and he even taught her some of the sparring skills he daily practiced. She became stronger and better able to protect herself. He asked what the symbols on her skin meant, and she tried explaining the concept of shacafura, where one cares about others so much they would do anything for them.
"Mothers care for their families. They make them clothing and prepare meals. You mean like that?" he asked as they rode together across the dusty plains in the interior of the expansive island continent.
"Not quite. It's a stronger action than that. It must cost them something. They must search deeper for the strength to help another brother or sister."
"I don't understand."
"You are not Almaren!" her cheeky smile lit up her emerald eyes as she laughed at him.
"You are judging me for being Porecian? Explain it to me!" he demanded with a laugh of his own. She loved to tease him, and on afternoons like this, after they had both finished work, their friendship would grow, and a comfortable easiness enveloped the two adolescents as they put the usual drudgery and social divides behind them. They just enjoyed being together.
He had heard of her people, of the mysterious inhabitants of Almar, a land far across the Portulacan sea, but had never harboured the hate and contempt towards them as did his fellow brethren of Porecia. Being the largest island in this far corner of the world, Porecia boasted a strong army and vibrant trading economy. The king and his family had clawed for dominion over the surrounding isles, and had all but succeeded, save a few pesky peoples from far-off lands. Whomever the Porecian army didn't crush and vanquish in battle, they brought back as slaves. Some peoples chose to migrate to the ever-growing and smelly seaside metropolis before they could be forced into a life of such servitude.
Orella was one such refugee. Having lost her family, she smuggled aboard a grimy and leaky junk and began the life of secrets and veils. It had been heartbreakingly lonely, until she met Derek. He now filled her days with laughter, fun, adventure, and an ear to listen and shoulder to lean and cry on. She had never known such companionship. His twinkling sapphire eyes never condemned her, nor did his strong hand ever reach out to abuse her. She was safe around him, and for a few years she lived in a happy and calm peace.
Until a merchant ship sailed into port from the Far Worlds.
