Snow onF the Peak: Part 1
“Kemile, Kemile, get up!” One moment I hear the sound of little voices calling out to me from a distance, waking me from my slumber, and the next second I feel the weight of three small bodies abruptly land on my stomach.
“Ooph!” I cry bolting off of my sleeping mat in surprise. My eyes fly open to peer into the deep brown ones of the figures who decided to use my stomach as a chair. It was only the triplets— Imani, Melis, and Ravem. With a groan I ease myself back onto my welcoming woven grass mat and tried to forget about the three girls whose gaze I could feel even without being able to see their eyes.
They sat in silence until I couldn’t take it. “Fine, fine, I’m getting up.”
The girls squeal in delight and wiggled off my stomach, allowing me to breath easily again. Through the flap in the animal skinned tent that I share with my family I could see the sun rising behind the towering peaks of the mountains. Though the sun rose the same as it did every morning, this one was different. It was a special day for those who live in Paisly, a day of celebration. Today was the Feast of Warriors.
I scramble to change out of my woolen nightdress and into my worn short sleeved work dress dress with. I slip the red skirt over my head and let the white sleeves and light brown bodice settle onto my body, the familiarity of this dress comforting. I hastily pull my hair out of my face and move to meet my sisters outside.
The aroma of baking food hits me like a falling tree, and my stomach growls in response. I quickly ignore it, there will be plenty of food to gorge on during the Feast. My sisters run around chasing each other and disrupting the preparations. Women in similar outfits as mine weave and dodge the running girls’ movements as they make food and decorate their tents for the celebration. My job is to fetch the water and keep the girls from getting into trouble. It was not the most glamorous job, but until I got older or joined the Warriors I was stuck as the babysitter
“Come on girls! Let's go!” Imani, Melis, and Ravem scrambled up from where they lay a pig pile. They race in circle ahead of me, running down the pathway leading to the large lake that connects to the Feni River. It’s an hour walk there at least, leaving the woman to prepare without the girls being in the way.
The trek down and up the mountain would be treacherous for those who were not familiar with the steep slopes of the Paisil Mountains. For us Paislians, though, it was second nature. We knew all of the short cuts and safe paths. But on the days when everyday danger became truly deadly, we had our conduit magic to guide us.
Slowly but surely we made our way down the crooked but worn paths to the lake. The girls got tired quickly and walked by my side. The basket in my arms for the water growing heavy with each step, and the sun beat down on my arms and neck, making sweat drip. The sight of the water was welcoming, and all four of us girls ran up to meet it.
Imani ran into the water and went under. When she came up her brown hair was glistening with water, and her dress hung heavy on her body. The other girls followed her, and after filling up my basket with water, I joined them, too. We splashed around for a time before laying ourselves in the sun. Laying together like this, we all look the same. The same deep chocolate hair, skin, and eyes. We are sisters, yes, but we are also Paislians, and we all look the same.
I also have a brother, but he is with the Warriors, and I will finally get to see him again today. My mother is preparing for the Feast as I speak, but also decorating our tent with the decorations befit for a family of a Warrior. My father would be a Warrior, too, if he hadn’t been a coward and left us years and years ago. But I don’t remember him anymore.
After laying out long enough that we were dry we began walking back. My arms ached with the now heavier. I could hear the chirp of birds flying around and the rustling of trees. Ahhhooooooo. From a distance I can hear the sound of horns— the Warriors preparing to come home.
The village looked like someone had taken a paintbrush full of color and swiped it over the boring colors that it was. Everywhere was bursting with colorful swatches of fabric reserved only for the Feast of Warriors, the day that all of our brave defenders come home. The Feast would begin at sundown, and I could tell that was soon. I didn’t realize how long we had stayed at the lake.
Hauling the water to the kitchen tent, I went to find my mother. Sweat was plastering her neck from the heat of the oven.
“Mother, we are back.” Mother turns and her shoulders relax for a second.
“Oh, Kemile, thank goodness. Would you mind finishing up these biscuits while I go change.”
I took over her place kneading the dough while she changes into her finery. The sound of horns was growing louder and louder, and the energy in the camp reflected it. We are all buzzing with excitement. This will be the first time in a year that we will get to see the loved ones that spend their time hiking around the mountains keeping out unwanted intruders. Anyone who joins the Warriors must serve two years before they are released. This is my brothers second years, so he will either choose or stay for another two years.
Overhead the palace looms in the setting sun. The grey stone standing out from our hide tents. From what I’ve heard, our palace is very small compared to other Rhythm countries, but it is larger than any other building in our country. I’ve never been inside, but the queen frequents the village, her elaborate brown shield conduit glowing softly with power on her back. She should be in the village tonight, but if not the king will be. He can never turn down a celebration.
My mother comes back dressed in bright silks wrapping around her waist, up her arms, and over her long brown hair. A touch of gold paint swirls near her eye lids, and in a moment it will be on my face too. She relieves me of my position with the bread, and I go change. Where my mother's silk was bright orange, mine is yellow and red.
Women, children, and men who are not part of the Warriors flood outside as a mass of people make it over the last hill and into the village. Everyone runs to meet them, a clash of bodies and hugs. I look for my brother, and spot him in the crowd.
“Matthias!” I cry and threw myself around him. He wraps his arms around me and buries his face into my hair.
“Kamile, I missed you so so much,” he groans quietly. His once soft boy face had turned into a man's, and his body tight with muscles that were not there before. The rest of my family joins our reunion. No one could wipe the smile off my face. We join the rest of the celebration, my hand not leaving Matthias’s.
The music starts, the shrill of the notes lighting filling up the air. Candles lit up and the food was was being spooned onto plates. The dancing starts and sun darkened.
A horn? But everyone is already here.
Over the ridge I see two figures stumble toward the celebration. Everyone freezes and stares at the shadows growing closer. The Warriors’ hands tighten around their weapons. As they grow closer I can make out a man, a Paislian man, my mother’s face is stark white, staring at him. The other is a girl with hair as white as snow.
A locket hangs around her neck, it’s silver surface catching the light of the candles.
The Winterian Queen has come to Paisly.
