Martri gazed fixedly at the small bowl of lantern oil in front of her. She blinked. She let out an aggravated sigh and crossed her arms over her chest and puffed out her cheeks. “Don’t pout,” Martri head Squirrel say from across the table. Martri looked up at the brown haired teen and raised her chin like any other child who wanted to prove an adult wrong would. “I am not pouting!” she responded.
Squirrel gave a nod. “Of course you aren’t.” She looked at the younger girl and pointed to the bowl. “What are you doing?”
“Making fire!” Martri giggled. “Just like that weird traveler does. The one with the black hair and red eyes! How does he do it? You can do it too, can’t you Squirrel? Can you teach me? Please?” she begged. Martri stood up on her chair and hopped onto the table. “Squirrel can you please teach me? Please? Pretty-”
“Martri! Get off the table before you get in trouble!” Squirrel hissed. Her eyes flashed angrily and Martri let out a frightened squeal, jumping down quickly into her chair with her hands folded on her lap. She sat there stiffly, like she was imitating one of the stone statues in the castle’s Great Hall. A small gloved hand pushed her short brown hair out of her narrow face and she resumed position once more. “I said get off, Martri, not ‘if you don’t you’ll be punished’.”
Martri looked at her. “But you yelled.”
Squirrel closed her eyes. “No, I did not yell Martri.” Her voice was rugged as she tried to stay as quiet as she could without raising her voice to the child. That was why she didn’t like children and did not want one of her own. They were to boisterous and misinterpreting. Too much care and attention had to be given. Of course, Squirrel had to commend those women who did have their own children. But, in a certain way, she was like Martri’s mother.
The young girl had been found in the woods hiding from the soldiers who had set fire to her village and killed her family. Squirrel had found her when she explored the area, much to Daryll’s annoyance. Martri had mistaken her for one of the soldiers and delivered a solid blow to her sword-wielding arm, almost permanently injuring her. Martri had certainly broken more than a few bones and once the child realized who she had hit, she broke down into tears. Afterwards, Martri stayed with Squirrel and Daryll, telling them about the horrible fate that had befallen on her village and family. She was like an adopted child to the two travelers.
Martri was about to speak when the oaken door (the only entrance to the small room) opened with a creak and in walked Isabelle, a broad smile on her face. She glanced at Martri who tipped her head to the side in awe. “Welcome back, Squirrel, and Martri is it?”
Martri slunk over to Squirrel, whispering into her ear. “She’s so pretty!” Squirrel gave a slight nod. She would not agree. The Aslanadian princess was an amazing sight, with fair skin and pink lips. She was slim and her blonde hair spiraled right above her shoulders. She was an ideal princess, forgetting she bothered marry Squirrel’s peasant brother. Squirrel quietly scoffed. Although Isabelle was kind to her – no, she was kind to everyone – Squirrel still did not think that the girl had to be such a goody-two-shoes. But, she would always prefer Isabelle over her obnoxious, green-eyed older sister, Emeralda.
“Hello, Princess,” Squirrel muttered.
Isabelle frowned. “You are practically my sister, you needn’t call me Princess.”
Squirrel raised an eyebrow. “By ties by my father, and him only. And, may I say that our tie is barely existing. My tie with my mother is doubled, no tripled, what his is.”
Isabelle nodded slowly. “If you say so.” She folded her hands gently and looked at Squirrel once more. “My mother wishes for you to help Cook with preparing the meal for tonight’s banquet if you would. She knows that you have traveled long and far and that you are probably exhausted, but she would like you to help. But, if you truly don’t want to, Royal Mother said that she wouldn’t mind much. Except we might not have enough food prepared…”
Squirrel put on an apathetic face. Isabelle certainly had a way to get people to do things. If Squirrel refused, Isabelle would mention it to her mother, and the queen would mention it to Squirrel’s mother. And Kiki would not be pleased at all. “Yes, Your Highness, of course,” she growled.
“Isabelle!” called a voice from the hall. The princess turned to see Tosh walk in casually. He glanced at Squirrel and shook his head. “Welcome back. Haven’t seen ma, huh? She’s gunna kill you,” he sang. He blew a strand of sand-colored hair from his face and grinned wildly.
Squirrel glared at her brother before grabbing Martri’s hand. “Where’s Daryll? Martri, you will have to be with him for a while.”
Martri began to pout again. “No! I don’t like him!”
The girl froze and looked down. “’K, Siru.”
Btw, I’m 14 and this piece is not fully edited, so there are probably some mistakes and some unadded detail. This is kind of a rough draft I would say… Oh, and I had to change around some of the parts so you can read it without having to read the entire story (EX. Martri’s past) That part is told earlier on.
And no rudeness please
Oh, and just to let you know, this is set in sort of a medieval period of time/fantasy world.
@ mary: You DID read the additional details right?? That’s where it says that this is somewhat in the middle of the story. Earlier on everything is explained in more detail.
Well, for a rough draft, it’s alright. Although I think you should always edit things before you put them online, at least you stated that. And it seems interesting enough, although the starting ("She blinked. She let out…") could be rewritten better. Avoid sentences with the same word at the beginning over and over. But keep at it, and good luck!