There is an old lore.
One that has been prospering for centuries. It is an ache. It is a feeling. It is a bond. The saying continues to be whispered and feared among human villages, a contrast to the admiration and praise it receives from the beasts...
It made her skin crawl. But, the last time she tried to clean something up from the floor did not go right by any means, and she ended up creating an even bigger mess. She had swiped at something that had fallen on the ground with her foot and she accidentally extended her leg a little too far over. The result of her dauntless action was the sudden destruction of her form, as both of her legs gave out underneath her. Her chin smashed into the hard stone, and since it was so late into the night, she was forced to sleep there until her mother found her the next morning. She couldn't open her mouth, her bottom teeth throbbed in her gums, and the entire lower part of her face was skinned to the point of having an open wound.
Even though it would physically feel better to stay in bed, she didn't want to sit still, mostly because she knew that if she did then she would spend either the rest of her day there or be shooed up the second she got a visitor. And, as though on cue, the ceiling door dropped open to reveal a set of stairs. Her mother's spool heels clicked against the steps as she descended into her daughter's hidden room.
"Mama, are you early?" The young woman asked, shocked to see her mother so soon after waking up, and she wondered if she had overslept. Was it her that made a mistake, a miscalculation, an error?
Her mother carried in a bigger than usual bowl of oatmeal, and spoke with her voice of honey, one that was always sicklily candied, "Oh, my little Amoret, what is early? What is late? I come every morning, and that is all that needs to be known. Isn't that right?"
Amoret nodded slowly, her fine eyebrows colliding at her exhausted confusion before she masked the feeling beneath a soft smile. At the sight of the bowl in her mother's hands and the sweet smell that wafted towards her, her ears had started to poke out through the waves of her extremely light blonde hair and her nose twitched as she perked up. "That's an awful lot, Mama. Is that all for me?"
"Of course. Why else would I bring it?" Her mother gently nudged the meal in front of her standing body, and Amoret hesitantly reached for the bowl, watching in amazement as her hands failed to cover most of the rim.
"Are you sure?" She licked her lips as she gazed down hungrily at the pieces of a sliced achee that were resting on top of the watery oats, glowing brightly against the dull shade of her nearly translucent meal. Her hand shook as she grabbed the spoon, feeling the cold metal slither between her sensitive fingers.
"Yes-" the mattress creaked annoyingly under her mother's weight as she moved to sit down on the uncomfortable bed, and her knees instinctively pushed themselves together as she began to straighten out her long dress that glowed with the essence of being a new addition to her collection of grandiloquent gowns, "-only because Papa and I are leaving in a few minutes. And, not just for a couple of measly hours, either. This trip will definitely be one with some leisure. It will surely take us a day to get to Lepralia, and then we'll need another day to pick up our goods and enjoy our time there, which means we will not be back for at least three full days."
"Does that mean that I'll be alone, again?" Amoret's stomach dropped at the remembrance of several memories, spanning over a good two decades, and a fearful ache formed in the pit of her gut.
Her mother sighed dramatically and pinched the bridge of her pointy nose, preparing herself for a specific reaction that she already knew was to come. The mere thought of her very own flesh and blood that she had raised behaving in an embarrassingly foolish way irritated her to no end, and she was more than ready to put a brutal stop to it before it even occurred. "I do not want to hear you whining over a bit of loneliness, Amoret. You're not a child anymore. There is no reason to act childish. No reason to sook, to cry, or to throw a fit. There is absolutely no need to do any of it. It won't kill you to spend a few nights alone."
Something in Amoret turned sour, as though her insides had started to boil, and a bitter taste spoiled her mouth as she looked down at her next feed with tears of disgust brimming her vision. She had realized what her mother had actually offered her. "And, this is all that I will get to eat while you are away? Is that why you gave me a treat of fruit?"
Her mother slowly stood up upon hearing the booming voice of her husband, the father of Amoret, calling out to her. His natural tone, harsh and loud, as he urged her to hurry. "Veira! We will be late if we don't leave now, my sweet!"
"I am coming!" Veira replied before she turned to Amoret, but her action went basically unnoticed.
Ignoring the scant glimpse that she caught of her mother's hand reaching towards her face, Amoret's attention span had quickly diverted to her distant father as she tried to sneak a peek of him. But, as soon as she saw his legs, he stepped out of her only line of sight. As Amoret grew, his presence shrunk. And, now, the image of him was faint. Yet, her mind wandered back to her childhood often, as the old impression of him was truly indelible.
Amoret let out a whispered gasp as her mother suddenly gripped her sunken cheeks, and turned her head forcibly to stare into her nearly matching set of eyes. "I love you," her mother promised, and took off up the stairs.
Amoret ate her oatmeal in silence, starting with the freshly sliced achee, but she was only able to finish roughly about four big bites. The rest she left in the bowl, and put a book that she had read thousands of times over the top to protect her food from spoiling too much, and to maybe even save some of its original heat.
The unexpected slam startled her, because once she placed the book over the bowl as a cover, the ceiling door dropped open.
"Mama? Papa?" Her gentle questioning speech went unanswered, leaving her to wonder if she was being tested or if her parents were seconds away from coming down into her cramped room.
Instead of investigating, she waited.
W O R D C O U N T : 2048
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hello!
What is an interesting word that you personally find unique, one that you think is beautiful, one that you don't see or hear often?
I'll start with filipendulous.
Now, there is something that I must express to everyone reading this. Thank you all so much for giving My Little Love a chance, and then coming here to see my idea finally flourish the way I wanted it to. I know that my decision to stop writing My Little Love was disappointing, but I hope that my rewrite and ending will make up for it. And, of course, thank you for reading Land of Wolves without knowing of the original piece. I appreciate every single one of you. I'm beyond grateful for all the love that I have been receiving on my writing journey.
I am literally so sentimental, like tell me to shut up already.
Don't actually do that. I'm sensitive.
spiceandlice - Indelible, not able to be forgotten or removed.
