Post by Guest on Mar 11, 2010 8:13:31 GMT -5
Anthea stood on the deck of a merchant ship, watching the waves and the night sky. It had been difficult to find a ship that was willing to pass through war-ravaged waters. She had paid the captain a good amount of money to let her aboard the ship. The old captain seemed to be a kind yet serious man and was sympathetic enough to let her aboard. In all her travels she had never been on the open seas and she found it both frightening and exhilerating. If it wasn't the swelling waves which suddenly dropped in height and jolted them forward, it was the storm that churned up the seawater into a mass of boiling foam.
The waves which rocked the ship reminded her of warriors clashing. She had sharp clear memories of her homeland. Injuries and losses. Her heart hurt just thinking about. She could barely remember her mother. She remembered she looked like an angel with a halo of red hair, so much like her own. She remembered her voice, which sounded like velvet and was very soothing. Her father was a very different story. He was a rather large man who could frighten the daylights out of anyone, but when he looked at her or her mother, there was nothing to fear. They loved eachother. But they had both died before she reached the age of eight. And they were gone. She sighed. She wondered what Basra would hold. War had plagued her life for so long. She wanted a land where she could be free of it. She recalled how many friends had been eager for battle, thinking it an adventure. But when they fought their first battle, there was scars, deaths and regrets. Those were her sharpest memories of her younger years, the first rocks to loom up solidly in a fog of conflicting impressions before the time she started paying attention to everything around her. She guessed that was when she started growing up.
Her father was very close to the other tribal elders, so it was only natural for them to raise her after her parents' deaths. They wanted her to be prepared for the war. Men, women and children were all equal in her lands, as there was no time for inequality. Battleplans and defences were the important things. She remembered training for long hours, and she promised herself her demise would not be at the hands of the enemy, like her parents. She would do it on her own terms, if that were possible.
The waves rocked the ship again. She leaned over the edge looking down at the water, thinking, just thinking. She pulled her shawl around her tighter as the air was getting chilly. She looked to the horizon where the sun was breaking through the thick clouds. Dawn. A small smile appeared on her lips. Soon she would arrive at Basra. She took one final look at the sunrise before she made her way down below deck to her sleeping quarters.
The waves which rocked the ship reminded her of warriors clashing. She had sharp clear memories of her homeland. Injuries and losses. Her heart hurt just thinking about. She could barely remember her mother. She remembered she looked like an angel with a halo of red hair, so much like her own. She remembered her voice, which sounded like velvet and was very soothing. Her father was a very different story. He was a rather large man who could frighten the daylights out of anyone, but when he looked at her or her mother, there was nothing to fear. They loved eachother. But they had both died before she reached the age of eight. And they were gone. She sighed. She wondered what Basra would hold. War had plagued her life for so long. She wanted a land where she could be free of it. She recalled how many friends had been eager for battle, thinking it an adventure. But when they fought their first battle, there was scars, deaths and regrets. Those were her sharpest memories of her younger years, the first rocks to loom up solidly in a fog of conflicting impressions before the time she started paying attention to everything around her. She guessed that was when she started growing up.
Her father was very close to the other tribal elders, so it was only natural for them to raise her after her parents' deaths. They wanted her to be prepared for the war. Men, women and children were all equal in her lands, as there was no time for inequality. Battleplans and defences were the important things. She remembered training for long hours, and she promised herself her demise would not be at the hands of the enemy, like her parents. She would do it on her own terms, if that were possible.
The waves rocked the ship again. She leaned over the edge looking down at the water, thinking, just thinking. She pulled her shawl around her tighter as the air was getting chilly. She looked to the horizon where the sun was breaking through the thick clouds. Dawn. A small smile appeared on her lips. Soon she would arrive at Basra. She took one final look at the sunrise before she made her way down below deck to her sleeping quarters.