08-05-2013, 08:32 AM
Thank you! I'll get the changes done and update as soon as possible.
EDIT: As you've suggested I've put the parts that need adding into seperate sections.
The War Far Away
Tales of battles, Mesalian against Mesalian, sometimes wound their way across to the farm; to Sahra it was a world far removed: hers was Uncle Bann, Timmon the Farrier and his wife Tina who'd had four children; there was the coalboy who sometimes packed rumours and stories amongst his dusty fuels. And then there were the Grenhalls, who owned the farm over the way.
Sometimes new farmhands brought ditties and shanties, and played and sang them with her while they worked. The war was just that in Sahra's mind: tales and songs of valour and glory, sorrow and pain.
The war began for her in the waning months of winter, when the land was yet to be sheared of its icy wool. Days were spent inside, around fires, drawing every last ember, every little lick of heat from them that they could. As the final fire went down, she tightened her blanket around her, sniffing in the sooty hot air.
Knock-a-knock-a-knock, against the big oak door of the house. Perhaps the coalboy had come, through all the snow. Uncle Bann went to the door, to sounds of shouts and steel. The still-small girl hid until the shouting stopped.
Her and her uncle spent that night colder and hungrier.
The First Weeds of Waning Winter
The coming of the frightening men was often and violent. Uncle Bann, resistant at first, quickly became an quiet for fear of safety.
Along with this, Sahra began her first true work. While Uncle Bann felled trees, and took their arms for fuel, Sahra took like a little creature to the undergrowth, seeking what the few live plants had to offer with their roots and leaves.
Every year she did this, and every year it seemed less. She didn't know if it was a true decline, or just her growth fooling her.
They were lucky; after the fifth year the Grenhalls fell ill and perished. The Farrier's wife was bound to bed. Uncle Bann just aged a saddened, even in the summer months when the men didn't come.
A Time Forgotten
A dream one night, starting with a warm face. Its features were blurred, and the light around it was dusken in colour. Suddenly black and a flash, and a face less welcoming. This time she could see who it was, her uncle. Watching herself play as he worked, pretending to work, and then working with him. The Farrier's wife was pregnant again, but her children never came to play, and she could never remember their names.
The world opened into inky black, stars peeping through the windows and the cieling's holes. She tried to smile about her time forgotten, before the work, before the soldiers. When the chickens were fun to chase, when she couln't pick up Timmon's hammers. When she was too timid to speak to the coalboy, when Tina brought her biscuits.
She sighed, and tightened her eyes again, trying to bring back the world she'd lost.
Fewer
Each year, Sahra's days became more difficult, and respite became rarer. Farmhands left to work elsewhere or to try their luck in the Forbidden Lands; whever they went, she never heard back from them. Uncle Bann became weaker and rarely ventured out.
Sahra stepped away from the cookpots and rolled up her patchy sleeves. She insisted the farmhands teach her what Unlce Bann had failed to, and in return made them warm food, and mended their torn clothes.
Soft hands make for uncomfortable work, yet Sahra toughened to match the challenge.
Old and New (After Bann)
She remembered the little shy girl that visited her in her dreams. The one that smiled when you talked to her, and had a home where she was loved, and an Uncle who remembered her name. She would've blushed at the farmhands' boisterous talk.
Now the smiles were frowns, the blushing a mixture of laughter and scowls, and the shyness a great wall, seperating the shell that was her body from the burning longing within.
A better life, again.
There were no bedtime stories or soft words to soothe; they ended with the soldiers. The one charming farmhand, Jay, whose hand she'd held once, still smiled at her, but it was far away and underground.
The new farm lay on a hill, where few ventured and no-one stayed.
Sails and Shovels
The large old girl, Pearly Rows, was one of the few large sailing ships seen as of recent. Sahra claimed her place on board with the promise of aiding with food and fixing the crew's clothes. The captain gave her a room with his daughter, a little younger than her.
The sailors reminded her of the farmhands - sometimes in her dreams, they were on the farm with her, singing songs of the sea, working the land instead of taming the ship with ropes.
As the came ashore, beacons led the the way, and they camped and walked, sometimes splitting off from each other. She kept with the captain's daughter, who could read and had a book full of tales gathered from lands far off and lost. They kept warm together on cold nights, teased those of the sailors who cared for their hair though balding, cooked together.
They lost a few to the dusk creatures. Mostly deckhands and washboys who'd wandered off into the night to relieve themselves. But they kept following the beacons, until they mounted the final hill as the sun began to set.
It was her first time seeing a town this big.
A year of walking was too much for Sahra, even with the home she had found among the crew. It was hard, but she resolved to stay, while the Captain and his men kept moving.
She implored the captain's daughter to meet her again, but well knew that might never happen.
EDIT: As you've suggested I've put the parts that need adding into seperate sections.
The War Far Away
Tales of battles, Mesalian against Mesalian, sometimes wound their way across to the farm; to Sahra it was a world far removed: hers was Uncle Bann, Timmon the Farrier and his wife Tina who'd had four children; there was the coalboy who sometimes packed rumours and stories amongst his dusty fuels. And then there were the Grenhalls, who owned the farm over the way.
Sometimes new farmhands brought ditties and shanties, and played and sang them with her while they worked. The war was just that in Sahra's mind: tales and songs of valour and glory, sorrow and pain.
The war began for her in the waning months of winter, when the land was yet to be sheared of its icy wool. Days were spent inside, around fires, drawing every last ember, every little lick of heat from them that they could. As the final fire went down, she tightened her blanket around her, sniffing in the sooty hot air.
Knock-a-knock-a-knock, against the big oak door of the house. Perhaps the coalboy had come, through all the snow. Uncle Bann went to the door, to sounds of shouts and steel. The still-small girl hid until the shouting stopped.
Her and her uncle spent that night colder and hungrier.
The First Weeds of Waning Winter
The coming of the frightening men was often and violent. Uncle Bann, resistant at first, quickly became an quiet for fear of safety.
Along with this, Sahra began her first true work. While Uncle Bann felled trees, and took their arms for fuel, Sahra took like a little creature to the undergrowth, seeking what the few live plants had to offer with their roots and leaves.
Every year she did this, and every year it seemed less. She didn't know if it was a true decline, or just her growth fooling her.
They were lucky; after the fifth year the Grenhalls fell ill and perished. The Farrier's wife was bound to bed. Uncle Bann just aged a saddened, even in the summer months when the men didn't come.
A Time Forgotten
A dream one night, starting with a warm face. Its features were blurred, and the light around it was dusken in colour. Suddenly black and a flash, and a face less welcoming. This time she could see who it was, her uncle. Watching herself play as he worked, pretending to work, and then working with him. The Farrier's wife was pregnant again, but her children never came to play, and she could never remember their names.
The world opened into inky black, stars peeping through the windows and the cieling's holes. She tried to smile about her time forgotten, before the work, before the soldiers. When the chickens were fun to chase, when she couln't pick up Timmon's hammers. When she was too timid to speak to the coalboy, when Tina brought her biscuits.
She sighed, and tightened her eyes again, trying to bring back the world she'd lost.
Fewer
Each year, Sahra's days became more difficult, and respite became rarer. Farmhands left to work elsewhere or to try their luck in the Forbidden Lands; whever they went, she never heard back from them. Uncle Bann became weaker and rarely ventured out.
Sahra stepped away from the cookpots and rolled up her patchy sleeves. She insisted the farmhands teach her what Unlce Bann had failed to, and in return made them warm food, and mended their torn clothes.
Soft hands make for uncomfortable work, yet Sahra toughened to match the challenge.
Old and New (After Bann)
She remembered the little shy girl that visited her in her dreams. The one that smiled when you talked to her, and had a home where she was loved, and an Uncle who remembered her name. She would've blushed at the farmhands' boisterous talk.
Now the smiles were frowns, the blushing a mixture of laughter and scowls, and the shyness a great wall, seperating the shell that was her body from the burning longing within.
A better life, again.
There were no bedtime stories or soft words to soothe; they ended with the soldiers. The one charming farmhand, Jay, whose hand she'd held once, still smiled at her, but it was far away and underground.
The new farm lay on a hill, where few ventured and no-one stayed.
Sails and Shovels
The large old girl, Pearly Rows, was one of the few large sailing ships seen as of recent. Sahra claimed her place on board with the promise of aiding with food and fixing the crew's clothes. The captain gave her a room with his daughter, a little younger than her.
The sailors reminded her of the farmhands - sometimes in her dreams, they were on the farm with her, singing songs of the sea, working the land instead of taming the ship with ropes.
As the came ashore, beacons led the the way, and they camped and walked, sometimes splitting off from each other. She kept with the captain's daughter, who could read and had a book full of tales gathered from lands far off and lost. They kept warm together on cold nights, teased those of the sailors who cared for their hair though balding, cooked together.
They lost a few to the dusk creatures. Mostly deckhands and washboys who'd wandered off into the night to relieve themselves. But they kept following the beacons, until they mounted the final hill as the sun began to set.
It was her first time seeing a town this big.
A year of walking was too much for Sahra, even with the home she had found among the crew. It was hard, but she resolved to stay, while the Captain and his men kept moving.
She implored the captain's daughter to meet her again, but well knew that might never happen.