Soon, I was in the wizard district, then walking through our front door. I stifled a shiver as a draft blew down the hallway. Father and Ashyr weren't home yet, but they probably would be soon. I started down the hall towards my bedroom.
As I passed the kitchen door, I saw Mother cooking dinner. I took a deep breath as the smell of sizzling galhok steak and gravy wafted out to me.
"Since you're home now, come in and help me finish dinner," Mother called over her shoulder. I stopped just past the kitchen door. The last thing I wanted to do after a day like today was to cook. Even on a good day, it was definitely my least favorite activity.
"I think I ate a bad apple at lunch, and I'm not feeling well. I was going to lay down for a while," I called back. That was the wrong thing to say. Mother rushed out into the hallway and gasped. I checked myself to see if I'd somehow managed to forget some article of work clothing, but I hadn't. My right sleeve was soaked in something dark and wet, though.
"What happened to your arm?" she asked, taking my wrist in her hand. I had an idea of what could've happened, but I didn't remember if I'd actually been cut by Firehorn. Even now, my arm didn't hurt, though; it just felt oddly cold.
"I got cut," I answered as she carefully pulled up my sleeve. The cut itself was slender and ran from the back of my wrist to my elbow.
"I can see that," she replied, "but what cut you?" Before I could answer, she let go of my arm and dashed back into the kitchen, coming back out a second later with a wet rag.
"I got cut on-" what sharp things would be around horses? "A tack hook. I tripped and fell on it," I said.
"Do injuries like this happen often at your work?" Mother asked, dabbing at the wound. Yes, they did, and I had the scars to prove it.
"No," I lied, "this is the first time anything like this has happened. It really is safe there." I recognized that look in her eyes. It was the 'is this too dangerous?' look. Many a fun activity had been ended by that look.
"What if it does happen again, and-" she started, then let go of my wrist and brought her hand to her mouth as if she couldn't continue. I could tell she was imagining me being killed by a falling horseshoe or something. If only she knew...
"It's safe there, I promise," I assured her. I definitely didn't want was this avenue of escape from home to close up like all the others, but she looked like she'd already made up her mind on the matter. I glanced down at my arm and saw she'd cleaned off most of the blood.
"I'll have to talk to your father about it," she replied, taking my arm again to finish cleaning it. The cut had healed a bit, but it was still oozing enough that dabbing away the blood wasn't doing much good. She noticed and retrieved a roll of bandages from the kitchen. I waited while she wrapped my arm.
"Right now, you should go to your bedroom and rest. Clean up for dinner. You're rather bloody," mother told me. She let go of my arm for the last time and turned to leave, muttering to herself about how I'd die young. What a comforting thought.
As soon as I reached my room, I quickly shed my tail scarves. They were uncomfortable and got caught on everything, but Mother thought it was important to hide the fact that my tail was covered in red scales instead of fur like most talmes' were. I tossed the scarves on the floor and grabbed an outfit at random out of the closet. Only six days, I reminded myself, until I might be able to leave forever.
My cut eventually started throbbing and woke me up early the next morning. I heard whispering coming from down the hall. Even at this distance and with the door shut, I could tell my parents were talking about me. My hearing was as sharp as most talmes', so I didn't miss a word.
"She told me she was cut on a tack hook," Mother said in a whisper.
"Accidents like that can happen anywhere. Unless you want to lock her in her room for the rest of her life, there isn't any point in keeping her from the stable job," Father replied. At least he was on my side. Not that he would be if he knew the truth, but still.
"But what if her injury was caused by a dragon? If she's gone to that stable against our wishes, who knows what she's planning to do next?" I sat up in bed, ears perked. How could she have guessed my cut had anything to do with dragons?
"Dear, she is a good child, and she knows the Choosing Ceremony is strictly off limits. I'm sure she wouldn't disobey us when it comes to that," Father replied. He was wrong. I fully intended to go to the Ceremony.
"Shouldn't we do something to make sure she can't go?" Mother started talking even quieter, "if she ended up a rider..." I leaned out of bed, trying to pick up her next words. "We would all-" I fell on the floor with a loud thunk, cutting her off. Gritting my teeth, I cradled my injured arm with the other. It was throbbing terribly. Getting ready for school would be a pain.
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