Word Count :: 300+ All welcome, Tlanti maybe? Whoever wants to snag!
Her mother was a… a slave.
Liliya couldn’t stop dwelling. She had come to the river with rudimentary tools in tow, hoping to catch a couple fish for the pack, but once she arrived at the river bank all she could think of was the day she had crossed this place with Eris. The Russian woman set out her gear, laying out a shabby net, a crooked bamboo pole, and a ball of knotted twine. Her supplies weren’t in the best of shape, and she didn’t even have any bait. This served to down the woman’s spirits even more.
She sat on the rocks with a sigh and collected the string. Her hands began to work at the filament, trying to unknot it, but for all her trouble the thing seemed to be getting worse. “Tchyo za ga`lima!” she cursed in her native tongue, and threw the twine away - then gasped when she saw where it landed. The breeze carried the ball away from her, farther than she’d meant to throw it, and it landed half in the river. “Ah! No!” She yelped and leapt up, lunging into the waters to catch her fishing twine, but it was too late. The string was swept up in the current and carried away.
Liliya watched it go, her eyes sad and ears drooping, and she stood there up to her knees in the river long after the material had vanished. It was all too much. Everything was going fine until Liliya insisted on returning to Nova Scotia to find her estranged family. Now she was a member of the very pack that had enslaved her own mother. A willing member at that. She tried to tell herself that she was doing it for her mother, that she was here to keep Verusha safe and perhaps one day earn the woman’s way out of bondage, but her conscience told her different. She was terrible, no one could count on her. And now, how was she going to impress the leaders of Salsoa if she couldn’t even take care of her fishing supplies?
She dropped her head into her hands, her chestnut hair falling over her face. It would destroy her pride to be found like this, but she couldn’t hold back the tears.
Image courtesy of 24730945@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
<style>.liliya-d04 { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/btR5k.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: top center; background-color:#B3783D; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:285px 0px 10px 0px; color:#2F1F0E; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFF3CC; outline:1px solid #000000;}
.liliya-d04 b {color:#FFF3CC; }
.liliya-d04 p { text-indent:20px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; }
.liliya-d04 p.ooc { font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; }
p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;}
</style>
[/html]