A rooster crowed off in the distance as the sun crested over the village and streamed in through a gap in the wooden shutters that covered the window to Ninte’s bedroom. Outside, accompanying the rooster's proud proclamation of dawn, she could hear the village beginning to stir. A door nearby creaked open and slammed shut, telling her that the sound of hammer on anvil was imminent as the blacksmith crunched over dry dirt and gravel to his forge nearby. It was at the edge of the village so as to disturb as few people with the din he made as possible, and it was little wonder why they had chosen Ninte’s parent's house as an ideal neighbor.

Ninte glanced over at the shard of yellow light that was slowly creeping its way across her rough wooden floor and climbing up the rickety post at the corner of her bed. She watched its progress with bloodshot eyes until, above her, she heard the sound of her squirrel companion rummaging around his nest as he woke up. The sound usually made her smile as she thought of him scurrying out, back into the forest for a hard day’s work. Today, as the squirrel left with the telltale rustling that signified him pushing through the thatched roof towards the world outside, she simply felt alone.

She had not slept since waking from her nightmare, having not dared to close her eyes in case the dream returned, and she found herself once again locked within that cell, bound in chains and unable to move. Despite her fears of the nightmare, the woman’s face was still bright in the forefront of her mind. Who was she and why did she feel so familiar?

On the other side of the homestead, Ninte heard her parents' door open, and their muffled voices approached. Although she had known it was coming, a hard knock at her bedroom door made her jump as her father’s voice told her to wake up and join them for breakfast. Then, the muffled conversation resumed, and their voices slowly faded away as they walked towards the kitchen.

Their conversation had not sounded pleasant, and Ninte grimaced as she pushed the thin woven blanket off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her parents rarely had happy conversations anymore. In fact, she could scarcely remember the last time they weren’t arguing in some way, and their disputes were always, without fail, centered around her.

Doing her best to push whatever new quarrel she had undoubtedly caused out of her already troubled and exhausted mind, Ninte shuffled over to the wooden chest that sat below her window. Opening it and rummaging through its contents, she eventually settled on an outfit for the day - not that she had much to choose from. She pulled on the scratchy tunic and squirmed into loose-fitting light-brown breeches that had been reluctantly handed down by her mother. Once dressed, she pushed open the wooden shutters that covered her window and squinted into the bright light that enveloped her.

Closing her eyes, Ninte let the sun wash over her and tried to imagine its warmth burning away the stress and fear she felt from her most recent nightmare. It didn’t work. It never did. But it was what her father had suggested, so every day she tried, hoping that one day she would feel the worries of the world washing away. Today was not the day, it seemed.

Turning away from the window, Ninte strode over to the door and was about to pull it open when one of her hands instinctively rose and touched the top of her head. Her fingers brushed across the bone ridges that protruded from her forehead and traced a path over her head to the back of her neck. Stupid. How could she have forgotten? She walked over to the disc of polished brass that hung on her wall, reflecting the sunlight and gleaming in stark contrast to the dusty dark brown of the rest of the room. Grabbing the gray shawl that hung next to her mirror, she paused, stared at the bone ridges on her head with contempt before wrapping the cloth over them and hiding them from view. Then she caught her own eyes in the mirror’s reflection and her lip curled. Her eyes were narrow, slightly slanted with a golden tinge. They had a snake-like quality to them that, when she had been younger, had been the source of much ridicule but now simply led to her being the subject of hatred around the village. Ninte hated them; hated that she looked different.

Finally, with a long sigh, she rubbed the sleep from her bloodshot, golden eyes, adjusted the shawl atop her head, and walked out of the room.

Upon entering the small kitchen on the far side of the homestead, Ninte was greeted with a warm smile from her father Adriyan who slid a small bowl of oats across their round wooden table. His smile faltered slightly on seeing the dark rings shadowing each of her eyes, but he only let it slip for a moment before his smile redoubled and he tossed a small wooden spoon at her. She caught it deftly, and then sat down, the ghost of a grin appearing on her face. Her father always managed to cheer her up.

“Eat up Ninte, we’ve got a busy day in the crop fields today, so you’ll need your strength,” he said.

Across the room, hunched over the pot swinging gently over a small fire, her mother Irlana snorted. Ninte’s father ignored the sound as though it had never happened and moved swiftly onward.

“How did you sleep, love?” He asked, shoveling a huge spoonful of oats from his own bowl into his mouth.

“Not great.” Said Ninte quietly, covering her mouth with one hand and stifling a yawn that caught her by surprise.

Her mother, who was marching over to the table with a bowl of her own, saw the yawn and rolled her eyes. She slammed the bowl down on the table and fell into the last remaining stool, a piece of rotting wood that Ninte almost expected to collapse into a pile of dust and timber as it strained against the woman’s weight.

“Nightmares again?” Ninte’s father asked, his smile falling, replaced with a concerned frown.

Ninte nodded and opened her mouth to speak only to be interrupted by her mother who, finding it impossible to keep her anger from spilling out, filled the room with sharp, shrill laughter.

“Nightmares again!” Said the woman, with another bark of laughter, “Are you ever going to stop falling for this child’s lies, Adriyan?”

Ninte’s father flashed her a reassuring look, and she forced another spoonful of tasteless oats into her mouth.

“We’ve been over this, Irlana, I don’t think she’s lying.” Said Adriyan, setting down his spoon and pushing his bowl to one side. Ninte noticed that it was still half full.

“Oh, we’ve been over it many times, Adriyan.” Irlana said, sneering, “It was annoying when the child was younger, but now it’s just ridiculous!”

“Irlana-” Adriyan began before the woman cut him off again.

“I mean really, she doesn’t even bother to come up with other excuses because she knows you’ll lap up anything she says like a bowl of cream. The child is lazy, Adriyan. She’s bone idle and will never stop trying to weasel her way out of helping with our daily chores or work because you keep entertaining her excuses.

Ninte clenched her fist. She had stopped eating and was staring into the beige mass of soggy oats below, focusing on taking one steady breath after another.

“Irlana,” Said Adriyan with a calmness at which Ninte marveled, “Enough. She’s here and she is helping me in the fields today. Leave her be.”

Irlana huffed loudly but kept from letting out the retort Ninte knew was sitting on the tip of her tongue, instead beginning to eat her oats at last. Adriyan shot Ninte and wink, and for a brief moment, the silence was bliss. The lack of sleep paired with her mother’s tirade had left Ninte’s head throbbing with a dull pain that radiated behind her eyes. Unfortunately, the calmness did not last long.

“We’ll have to sell the foal, you know,” Irlana said curtly after finishing her own meager bowl of oats. “And, given that most of the villagers here are just as poor as we are, that probably means you’ll have to make the trip to Velniya to sell it in the market there.”

“Perhaps. But I’d rather not sell at all, if we can help it though,” Adriyan replied, his voice as calm as ever. “Especially since the news that Lord Ariyon has fallen gravely ill with a strange disease, and his two sons bicker with one another as to who will succeed their father. I hear the Velniya people are divided, and the atmosphere in the town has grown grim. With the continuous threat from the Mano people, it is not at all unthinkable that one of the brothers will seize power by force. It might not be safe to visit Velniya.”

“These are just rumors, Adriyan.” Another bark of shrill laughter came from Irlana. “We barely have enough to eat as it is, and you think we’ll be able to feed another animal on top of it? If we don’t sell the foal, we won’t survive the next months, let alone until the harvest.” She said, every word spat out with anger.

“I agree that if we have no other choice to sell the foal, then we will. The old girl’s got at least another one in her anyway. Hard times call for hard choices, but we’ll be alright.” Adriyan said.

Ninte stared at the oats, still mostly untouched in her bowl. She was fond of the pregnant mare and had been looking forward to raising its foal alongside her. The thought of selling the foal brought a lump to her throat and she found herself clutching hard at the spoon once again.

“Hard times call for hard choices.” Irlana snorted, “I should have said that all those years ago, not that you would have listened. No doubt our lives would be a great deal easier.”

“Irlana, that’s enough.” Adriyan’s raised voice startled both Ninte and her mother, he seldom let his voice get so loud, and when he did, they both knew to listen.

“What’s done is done.” He continued, “I’ll hear no more of this foul attitude from you today, and that’s the end of it.”

He glared at his wife with hard, gray eyes, and then stood abruptly and marched to the front door to fetch his boots. When his back was turned, Irlana shot her daughter a look so full of venom Ninte could almost taste the sourness in her mouth. She felt her temper flare. She hadn’t chosen to be born. It wasn’t her fault they were poor, or that she had nightmares so frequently, or that they may have to sell the foal to buy food until harvest. If anything, it was her mother’s fault, Ninte thought. If she didn’t want children, she shouldn’t have had one.

The anger was bubbling inside of her now, her fists and jaw clenched as she stared back into her mother's eyes, locked in a hateful stare down. Ninte felt the power rising inside of her and struggled to keep it from bursting out. But why? Why was she fighting the urge so fiercely when this woman would clearly prefer that she did not even exist. Ninte’s heart was pounding so hard, she could feel it in her head. The blood rushing through her ears drowned out all other sounds and, as she stared at Irlana’s narrowed eyes, she saw a hint of fear in her face.

Suddenly Ninte felt a strong hand grip her shoulder and she heard her father's voice firmly saying her name. The fury within her diminished, and along with it went the deafening sound of her inner rage. She looked up at her father, who was staring down at her, his face serious, and felt the energy sap from her body. Slumping back, she allowed him to hold her weight up in his arms as he rubbed her shoulders in methodical circles.

“Come on, Ninte, we have a long day ahead of us.” He said and patted the top of her head before motioning to the oversized boots he’d brought over for her. “Let’s go.”