One
My eyes blurred as sweat dripped into them, causing them to burn. I closed them firmly and used the shoulder of my work shirt to wipe my face. The rough cotton scratched but was effective at soaking up the wetness caused by my labor. I adjusted the leather work gloves that were slightly too big since they came from my best friend's little brother, Jace, who happened to be over six feet tall and easily two hundred pounds. When I had volunteered to tackle taking out the overgrown bramble bush at the back of their farm, he merely grunted and handed me the gloves. I was grateful since I knew the scythe I would be using was built for someone bigger than me and I would need all the assistance I could muster in keeping a firm grip on the well-worn handle.
After readjusting the gloves, I reached for the scythe handle at the same time I heard a loud sharp whistle. Turning my head away from the sun, I saw my best friend, Brielle, and her mother, Bertha, coming into the field where I and the other farmhands were working. Both were carrying several canteens that I prayed contained water. I leaned the scythe up against a nearby tree so no one would trip over and lose a foot and made my way over to them. There were four workers besides myself and Jace; Brielle's two older brothers, Robert and Sam, and two boys from a neighboring farm. Lance and Rodney's father owned the land adjacent and was too old to farm any longer so Brielle's family incorporated his land into theirs and allowed the boys to work it to provide for themselves and their family until they were old enough to stake their claim on it.
Brielle handed me a canteen, a big smile on her pretty face. The consummate beauty, she had her long blond hair plaited perfectly and pinned up so it was off of her neck and shoulders. Undone, it would fall past her waist, framing her thin body and make her light blue eyes seem even lighter. Standing next to her, it was easy to understand why she was highly sought after by the opposite s*x. It also didn't hurt that she was the daughter of a successful farmer in the kingdom's wheat district. Her dowry only grew with each harvest.
After taking a long sip of the sweet cold water, I placed the canteen between my knees so I could fix my hair. The handkerchief I had used as a headband to help hold my curls off my face was starting to slide around. Brielle had pulled my hair back and high on my head with a strong piece of twine earlier in the day but the moisture from my sweat was making my curls cranky and they started to form a soft halo around my face, trying to pull away from their confinement.
While my best friend was tall and willowy with beautiful pale features, I was on the shorter side (I couldn't even see over the top of the farm's draft horses) with more roundness. Some of it was muscle from the farm work. My parents were caretakers of a library in the next town over and were extremely poor. Brielle's family had taken me in to help with chores on the farm when Bertha had a miscarriage and was bedridden for several months. Seeing that I didn't shy away from hard labor and wanted to be a contributing member, Brielle's father, Marko, worked out a deal where he would take care of all my basic needs for as long as I wished to work the farm and all my parents would need to provide was the worn-out books pulled from the shelves so he could continue his children's education beyond the minimal schooling Wheat District children received. He knew that his children would need skills beyond knowing when and where to plow when dealing with merchants who wanted to rip them off.
Now, many moons later, I had been accepted as another member of the family and while I was never treated differently from Brielle, I tried to act like that could change at any time. I finished the last of my water and thanked Bertha as I handed it back to her, picking my work gloves off the ground to put them back on my hands.
"What are you doing?" Brielle asked, tilting her head to the side with a laugh. I looked at her, confused.
"Well, that bush isn't going to dismantle itself," I answered. This made her roll her eyes and grab my arm.
"Only you Sasha would forget what today is," she said, pulling me in the direction of the house.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, unable to pull my arm from her iron grip. She may look delicate but she spent hours kneading and rolling out dozens of loaves of bread every day during her apprenticeship to the town baker. Her upper body strength was incredible.
"Sasha Liaz," she said in an exasperated tone, "it's the freedom feast! Remember?! The Warrior King is coming!"
