Chapter One

85 19 81
                                    

"Mother," I say, approaching her with my green, silk ribbon

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

"Mother," I say, approaching her with my green, silk ribbon. "Do you mind braiding my hair for me?"

Mother smiles as she rises from the table, where she has been shucking peas.

"One day," she says, turning me around. "You will have married and you will need to know how to braid your own hair, my darling."

"Yes, but I am not married yet. You make it seem so effortless."

"With practice, you will know all kinds of tricks for your hair."I smile as she makes me turn back to her.

"Beautiful," she says, tapping my nose. "Are you going to the stream?"

"Yes," I reply, bringing my braid over my left shoulder. "Do the water jugs need to be refilled?"

"No, I think your father has already filled them with fresh water. You enjoy yourself... Will the Lark come again, I wonder?"

"Mother, the Lark has come to the stream every day since my eighteenth birthday," I explain, clasping my hands in hers. "I am sure he will continue to come."

"Tomorrow is your nineteenth birthday." Mother frowns, but it is only for a moment.

"Is there a reason I always see the Lark, Mother?" I ask, skeptical.

"It's nothing, sweetheart," she says as her smile returns. "Just remember to be home before sunset. It's not safe after dark."

I nod, mirroring the smile. But the thought continues to plague me.

When I arrive at the stream, I am quick to prepare my blanket on the ground

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

When I arrive at the stream, I am quick to prepare my blanket on the ground. I glance around. The Lark is nowhere to be seen. Sometimes, he is waiting for me in the fir tree. Or he is hopping around the banks of the stream.

"Little friend," I call out, kicking away my boots before sitting down to remove my socks and stockings.

His song fills the air and I cannot help my smile. I turn my head around, searching all the tree branches. Until I see him. Gliding down with graceful flapping of his wings. He seems to fly in a slowing motion.

The Lark's Pearl | #ONC2022 ✔Where stories live. Discover now