Cilla

*Meow* The black kitten rubbed his whole body against his human’s face. The 18 turn girl moaned and rolled over, leaving the back of her neck exposed the feline’s wet, sand-paper like tongue.

"Urgh..." Cilla grabbed the kitten and crushed him against her side, hoping Jevyan would get sleepy again and she could snatch another couple candlemarks of rest. Unfortunately, when the cat saw the sun was up, the cat figured Cilla should be up.

Jevyan began nosing her stomach and scratching her lightly. He was rewarded with several swear words and another swat, but the girl finally sat up. The cat sat and purred in front of her, waiting to draw her attention to the breakfast he’d caught.

Cilla rubbed the sleep out of her light brown eyes and pulled her hands through her light blond hair in an attempt to free it from the straw and any unwanted critters. She calmly ignored the fact that a spider, who’d probably been caught in her hair last night, bit her before walking off the end of her fingers. That’s what I get for sleeping in the hayloft... She decided to dunk her head in the lake before making an appearance at home. After not seeing Jevyan and putting her hand in his breakfast, she decided to dunk her whole self in the lake before even thinking about going home. Finally, realizing that she probably smelled a lot like the horses she was sleeping over, she decided she might as well find some soap and actually have a bath.

The feline hissed when his human’s hand crushed the already dead field mouse, considering he thought that she was claiming the whole thing for herself. When she simply shook off her hand and tossed the dead carcass a few feet away from her, Jevyan decided to start breakfast without her.

Cilla couldn’t help smiling at the tiny cat. Their hold, Tamae, was a rather large beast hold and so they raised runners, both hunting and domestic canines and both hunting and domestic felines. Jevyan was the runt of an already tiny litter. The breeder had been planning on destroying him before he starved to death. Cilla had swiped him and raised him over the last two turns into the fine feline he was today. The terror of field mice and insects...a real streetwise cat, even if he was only twenty centimetres from nose to tail. She stretched again and stood up, immediately banging her head on the low wooden roof. Dust floated through the air and sparkled in the sunlight seeping in through the cracks in the roof before filling her lungs and her eyes. She swore under her breath, knowing that she should have remembered the low roof, and immediately sat back down in the hay, raising another cloud of dust and scaring away a few bugs.

Cilla’d been born and raised at Tamae Beasthold, so she did have a room in her family’s quarters if she ever wanted to sleep there, yet she still always managed to find herself waking up in the hayloft, or in the stables, or under a wagon... Her family’s rooms were always too crowded to be comfortable. The entire hold was too crowded to be comfortable, unless one did spend most of her time in the less travelled areas like the hayloft. As she waited for her head to stop ringing after the knock she gave it, she looked around for her shoes.

Cilla’s hayloft, the smallest of many scattered around the Hold, was about twenty feet by twenty feet and was never more than half full of hay. It was directly above the runner stalls that held the work runners and was only used if the stable hands got lazy and didn’t want to walk to the main loft to get good hay. Since Lord Nalyn, the man in charge of the work runners, would kill them if they ever fed his beasts less than top quality hay, the loft didn’t see much use, unless you counted the times Cilla used it as hiding grounds and bedroom. The roof was cracked in places and there was a large hole in one of the corners where Thread had managed to get it. Luckily someone had been on hand with a flamethrower and a bucket of water or they might have lost the entire stable. It was a bright morning and what sun could make it through the cracks and then the haydust, was illuminating the east half of the room, letting Cilla know that the sun hadn’t been up more than a candlemark. She saw her truant shoes half under a bale of hay three feet in front of her.

"Up awfully early." Jerret, a stableboy called up to the hayloft. He was up every morning to make sure his Master’s horses got fed. He often woke Cilla up if Jevyan didn’t.

Cilla grabbed the worn rope that led down to the main level of horses, the smell getting stronger, but she was used to it. "Jevyan brought me breakfast in bed." She climbed down the rope easily, having ascended and descended it hundreds of times. Most of the other lofts had ladders, but since this one was so rarely used, the only way up to it was a ten turn rope tied to a nail in the roof. So far, the nail still held. That didn’t mean that Cilla didn’t cringe everytime she was forced to put her weight on it.

Jerret laughed as he rubbed the nose of a chestnut mare. "He’s helping get you ready for the gather."

Cilla shut her eyes and sighed. "I forgot."

"I know." Jerret smiled. "It’s why I’m here early. The daughter of our best canine breeder should look human for a gather day..." He looked her up and down once. "...and smell human."

She glared. "Don’t try to tell me I smell bad...I only sleep with the horses, I don’t work with them." She caught her kitten as the now full ball of fur leapt down from the loft. She perched the cat on her shoulder and left him to bat at the flies that were everywhere in the lived-in part of the stable.

Jerret laughed. "I can smell however I want...I’m a stableboy among millions of stableboys. You’re a young lady, daughter of Kierm. There’s only one of you." He led the large, yet docile creature out of her stall and began to brush her.

Cilla rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself. This is a huge hold, there are tons of significant breeders, and they have daughters as well. No one’ll miss me." She leaned back against the wall, pushing her hair out of her face again.

Jerret continued to work. "Planning on skipping out again?"

"This whole place gets crowded enough as it is, why do we need to invite people from all over the blasted planet to crowd us further?"

"Because they’re were the marks come from?"

Cilla laughed. "Think Erisin would let me swipe a runner for the day?" She caught the cat as his hunt for the winged pests nearly caused him to loose his perch.

"Your father won’t be happy about it."

"My dad learned long ago that I have absolutely no interest in living in this huge place where everyone, unless you’re amazing, is completely faceless, nameless. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been called by my sister’s name, or how many times I’ve been called the daughter of another breeder? No one notices you around here." Cilla walked forwards and stroked the mare’s nose. "I don’t want to spend my entire life in a place where nobody knows me."

Jerret gave her a sad half-smile. "No one mistakes me for anyone Cilla, nobody even notices me, period."

Cilla turned on him. "But you don’t care! You like working with the runners, you like nobody noticing you. I’m sick of being Jwll...I’m sick of being Megana..."

The stableboy led the mare back to her stall and bolted the door shut. "Than do something to make people notice you."

Cilla sighed and shook her head. "I want to go to Tesba Beasthold. I’ve told my mother that a million times. It’s a quarter the size of Tamae and not that far..."

Jerret cut her off. "Your problem isn’t that Tamae’s too big Cilla, it’s that your ambitions are too small." He quickly continued as the teenager looked like she was going to hit him. "You want people to call you by your own name, you want to be somebody, but you’re not willing to work for it."

"I am willing to work for it!" As she searched for words to strengthen her argument, her anger melted away, replaced by a sad, heavy feeling about her heart. "I just don’t feel like it’s worth it, not here."

Jerret flopped himself down on a bale of hay, Cilla right beside him. The dust joined the flies in the air, but neither of them coughed. You got used to the stables after a while. Jevyan leapt from his human’s shoulder to chase a moth out into the fields. "I’m never going to get out of my father’s shadow, my brother’s name, not here, not by doing anything. The only way a breeder’s daughter can make anything out of herself around here is by marrying someone."

Jerret squeezed her hand, breaking the unwritten code that separated the stableboys and the higher class daughters. Cilla looked at him in amazement. They’d been friends a long while, but they’d never touched each other. He smiled. "You’ll figure it out Cilla, you’ll find your place." Without another word Jerret returned to his work.

Cilla sat on the bale of hay resting against the grimy wall watching the way the dust caught the light that came in through the open door. I’ll either find my place or I’ll just get used to it...like you get used to the stables after a while...

"Cilla!" Jwll, her younger sister came storming into the stables, Jevyan held by the scuff of his neck in her other hand. "This cat just ate my hair clip!"

The older sister couldn’t help smiling. "Did it look like a bug?"

"It was a butterfly. Why?" Jwll dropped the cat and crossed her arms.

Cilla laughed as she picked up the cat and walked towards her sister. "Because he’s been after a moth all morning."

The two sisters looked at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter. Cilla waved to Jerret as she let Jwll drag her back to her real room to get ready for this damnable gather.

* * *

"I think I look like a ghost." Cilla glared at her reflection with hatred. "I can’t wear light blue, my hair is practically white!"

Jwll, blessed with dark hair, raised a brow. "You’re tanned like a stablegirl, you look fine in light colours. I wish I had your skin."

"I wish I had your hair." Positive that the mirror was purposefully making her look bad, Cilla turned to face her sister. They couldn’t hold each other’s gaze for more than ten seconds before giggling. As much as she complained about the crowdedness of her home, Cilla and Jwll got along really well and managed to ‘bring out’ the suppressed qualities in each other. Around Jwll, Cilla could act like a nice little lady. Around Cilla, Jwll could act like a hooligan.

Cilla turned back to the mirror as Jwll began to imprison her wild platinum blond hair in a bun. After much cursing and swearing, and a shriek when she discovered a dead fly, Jwll had managed to clean her sister’s hair and was now attempting to make the rest of the 18 turn girl look presentable.

"You’d think I was the older sister, the way I have to look after you." The words were muffled since Jwll was holding the comb in her teeth, but the two could always understand each other.

"Hey." Cilla smirked. "Who beat up Merke for you when he pulled your hair?"

Jwll giggled and tied the last ribbon into her sister’s hair. "There. All done."

Cilla stood up to examine her new appearance. After removing the dirt and grime, her skin was a healthy, but deeply tanned colour. Her shining hair was a platinum blond and was really very nice when it wasn’t covered in dirt and straw or inhabited. She stood at 5'7", shorter than most of the men, but taller than most of the girls, and she was definitely on the skinny side. She hated the fact that no matter how hard she tried, she never really fleshed out. It meant that she bruised easily and, either because of the lack of cushioning or just bad luck, Cilla’s broken more bones than anyone else the Healer knew. Cilla couldn’t help smirking as she thought of that. Least he knows me by name...

Jwll bundled her own dark locks into a braid just as their mother whisked in to inform them that they needed to hurry up. Kierm’s daughters had to make a grand entrance to the gather on time.

The two girls looked at each other and sighed. Neither of them liked the fact that they were constantly introduced as Kierm’s daughters and the fact that their mother constantly treated them like something to be put on show made them even more angry.

Regardless of that fact, Cilla and Jwll appeared beside their father when his name was called and politely bowed to all the other breeders’ daughters who were also being displayed. After all, just as the breeders showcased their prize pets, every breeders’ wife showcased their daughters. A gather was a perfect spot to meet the man of their dreams. After the haggling over the animals started though, Jwll and Cilla were dismissed.

"But return in time to make a grand impression at the dance..." Jwll imitated their mother, "...you are getting close to marrying age you know!"

Cilla smiled. "I’m surprised she still wants me to go to the dance, after I hit whats-his-name last year."

"Tyrom. And he deserved it." Jwll, unlike most people, knew the name of everyone in the Hold. She may have hated being Kierm’s daughter, but her plan was to marry the Lord Holder’s son, or at least someone up there. When Cilla mentioned that that would just make her somebody-or-other’s wife, Jwll replied that she’d rather be that than Kierm’s daughter. To help her advance through the social ranks, the 16 turn girl knew everything that happened in the Hold and everyone who lived here.

*Meow!* The pathetic sound came from Jevyan, as the little cat tried to reach his owner without being stepped on. Cilla swooped him up and perched him on her shoulder. She didn’t care if she was wearing a nice dress, clothes meant little to her. Jwll clicked her tongue, but refrained from saying anything.

"Let’s go up a level." Jwll grabbed her sister’s hand and began to lead her to the stairs.

Tamae Beasthold was built mostly out of rock, like most holds, but it also had a unique design. It was built to look like a step pyramid, well, an upside down step pyramid. There were 20 levels in all and the bottom one was the gather grounds. The top of the Hold was open to the sky and you could go up a level either by stairs on the outside, or stairs on the inside. Cilla, a lot less patient than her sister, knew another less socially acceptable way as well. She pulled Jwll towards a stand set up against the wall of this level. He had a lovely canopy over it to protect his delicate glasswares from anything falling from a higher level. With a smirk, and paying no heed to the fact that she was wearing a dress, Cilla pulled herself up onto the canopy and from there onto the higher level. She reached down her hand and, with a smile, Jwll jumped to grab it. Pulling her sister up beside her, Cilla ignored the angry yells from the vendor and the rude comments from some of the boys.

Jwll laughed. "I hope one of them doesn’t decide to tell mother."

"They won’t." Cilla brushed off her dress and repositioned Jevyan so his claws weren’t digging in quite so tight. "They wouldn’t be able to recognize her unless she had a name tag on that said Kierm’s wife."

Jwll knocked Cilla playfully on the arm. "Can’t you even enjoy a free day?"

Cilla smiled back. "A free day is when this place is only as crowded as it normally is and I can do whatever I want without worrying about wrecking my dress."

"Don’t tell me you were even remotely worried about your dress when you pulled that stunt." The two girls laughed, used a little of their money to buy a snack and used the outside stairs to climb another two levels. The higher you got, the less people there were.

"Should we be heading back?" Jwll knew the suggestion would not be met with great happiness from her sister. "I know it doesn’t mean a thing to you, but I would like to make an impression at the dance."

Cilla sat at the edge of the level, feet dangling over the edge. "You go. I couldn’t stomach it."

Jwll smiled. "Maybe Tyrom’ll want to dance with you again."

Cilla rolled her eyes. "Now I really can’t stomach it. I’ll head down to the runner stables. Maybe I’ll buy a racer."

Jwll hugged her sister quickly, and to Cilla’s amazement. "Just don’t make a name for yourself by being the only girl murdered by her mother for destroying the family’s reputation."

Cilla smiled. "I promise nothing." The two girls laughed and Jwll headed towards the stairs. Cilla watched as the people began to congregate on the first level for the dance. From the tenth level they looked much smaller. Cilla sighed, realizing that from the twentieth level, she was probably no bigger than an ant either. Jevyan, realizing that part of his human’s good mood had dissolved, nipped at her ear.

Cilla laughed, and pet him until he began purring. She then set him on the ground and raced off towards the stairs at full speed, Jevyan right on her heels. At least people up there will wonder what I’m doing...a crazy ant...

* * *

"Hey!" Cilla raised her voice slightly to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the crowd. "Need some help?"

Jerret waved her away, knowing full well that if she was seen helping him she would be making a name for herself, but it definitely wasn’t the kind of name she wanted.

Cilla sighed, wanting a chance to talk to her friend. She was still a little confused about the fact that he actually touched her this morning. He obviously wasn’t as eager to talk. She sighed and ducked a big passing man who seemed to think that just because he outweighed everyone else in the vicinity he had the right to butt his way through. Cilla followed in his wake and soon made it out to the fields where all the young runners who were being sold could be found galloping around, proving their worth. Lord Nalyn and Lord Vyni were presiding over the chaotic assembly with an attempt at calmness. She smiled as she knew they were both actually going insane, trying to keep as many of the good runners as possible, yet trying to make the bad runners seem like winners. She couldn’t stand that kind of life.

She let Jevyan jump from her shoulder as she wandered around to the less busy stalls, where the already sold runners were allowed to relax. It was nearing supper-time and the sun was beginning to disappear behind the top of the Hold. The air grew slightly cooler and Cilla could feel dew on her ankles from the long grass. She lay on her back and looked at the stars, wondering how the small section of the sky she could see out the top of the Hold looked so big, yet the Hold itself always seemed so small.

"AHHHHH!" A scream ran through the cool evening air, accompanied by various shrieks. The noise startled Cilla out of her daydream and brought Jevyan back to her feet. The yell came from a little farther down the lines of stalls, the area where everything was supposed to be calmer. In a flash, Cilla hiked up her skirt and headed off towards the commotion. As she rounded a corner, she saw a bucking runner, a bruised little boy near it’s sharp, flailing hooves and a larger man trying to grab the runner’s mane to calm it down. The boy had probably been trying to get a better look at the runner, he wasn’t more than five turns, and the runner had been spooked. Most racers didn’t like little things between their legs. The boy was bleeding from a cut on his forehead and the man was having little luck getting close enough to the beast without getting knocked unconscious himself.

Cilla ran towards the upset horse, past a man who told her to stay back, vaulted the fence and landed on the runner’s back. It had all seemed like such a simple plan when she’d thought of it. Get on the runner’s back, grab it’s mane, save the day. She’d vaulted onto runners from the fence a million times after all, considering most of the stableboys wouldn’t even talk to her let alone open the gate for her. Unfortunately, she neglected to consider the fact that the runners she was used to jumping onto were still and relatively prepared. This one was definitely not still and was probably the farthest from prepared a horse could be. As she hit the bucking horse, she bruised both her thighs and managed the knock her chin off it’s neck, causing her to bite down on her tongue, drawing blood. The horse screamed and began to buck more violently. She bumped up and down, never actually being astride the horse for more than an instant before her body was lifted by the horse’s leap again. She managed to hold on the beast for all of thirty heartbeats before she felt herself loose her balance and knew that she no longer had the runner between her legs. Although the entire ordeal couldn’t have been more than a minute long, Cilla had more than enough time to realize this was the single stupidest thing she’d ever done. There was a panicked second when she was sailing through the air, and a less panicked, but more painful second when she hit the man who broke her fall, then, mercifully, there was nothing.

* * *

"Girl! Girl! Are you okay?" Cilla felt herself being shaken, gently, but still enough to make her head hurt. "She’s coming round."

Cilla opened her eyes and saw a swirl of colour before her vision cleared. Her temples were pounding and the light from a glow located somewhere above her caused her to wince in pain. "Wha? Where?"

"Got yourself knocked pretty good." The was a more than a just a hint of laughter in the man’s voice. He, seeing her cringe, waved the man holding the glow off.

"Oh..." The memory of her less than startling attempt at helping came back to her in a flash. She was laying on the grass about five feet from the stall where the more calm runner was pacing back and forth. The dew was making her shiver and the sun had completely disappeared from the sky. "The runner?" She began to feel nauseous as consciousness returned. "The kid?"

"Both fine." The man helped her to sit up and gave her a glass of water. She waved it away, already feeling like she was going to disgorge everything she’d ever eaten. Her vision swam everytime she moved her head. "That was awfully brave."

Cilla snorted. "Stupid. I probably caused more trouble than I helped."

"Not really," The man was still smiling. "Your...attack caused the runner to buck away from the kid, I was able to grab the tot and then you came flying at me."

"Oh..." Cilla realized the man who was holding her was the man who’d attempted to calm the horse before her brilliant performance. "Did I hurt you?"

The man laughed, a deep resounding sound. "You hear that Iltar? She asks if she hurt me! The girl comes flying in, leaps to a bucking runner’s back, saves a kid and then asks if she hurt me!!"

A smaller man, who Cilla just noticed had been sitting beside her the entire time, laughed quietly. "She came flying at you pretty hard Meodoc."

"Yeah, but she’s just a wisp of a girl. That horse could have flung her twice as hard and I still would have been fine." The bigger man, Meodoc Cilla assumed, offered her the glass again.

The smaller man, Iltar, laughed quietly again. "That’s not what you were saying when she hit you. I wouldn’t be surprised if your swearing’s what made her swoon, not the fact that she hit her head off you." He turned to Cilla with an amused smiled. "You should really have a drink."

Cilla took a sip and returned the cup quickly. She clutched at her stomach and tried to roll over. Iltar and Meodoc picked up on what was happening and one held her hair while the other helped her crouch as breakfast and lunch did make a reappearance.

Cilla blushed as she wiped her mouth. Meodoc offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully.

"S’okay." Iltar patted her on the back, seeing that she was rather shaken. "Maybe we should take you to the Healer’s...or your family."

"No." Cilla said the word with a cough. "I’m fine."

Meodoc laughed. "Because nice ladies like you get thrown from runners every day of the sevenday."

Cilla couldn’t help smirking. "I live in a Beasthold. It’s not the first time anyways."

"Yeah," Ilter came to her defence. "And if the move was a little foolhardy, she still managed to vault a fence and land on the runner’s back."

*Meow.* Jevyan, obviously concerned for his human’s well-being, began to rub along her leg. She picked the cat up.

"Yeah..." Meodoc seemed to be thinking of something. "And she did it in a dress no less." He looked at Iltar, an idea clearly in his head. "She can probably ride at least as well as you."

Iltar, understanding the look, nodded. "At least as well."

"Meodoc!! Iltar!!!" A much older man came storming into view, followed by a young lad holding a glow. "I heard what you two did to my horse!!" The man was obviously in a bad mood.

"Over here." Meodoc called to the man and then added, more quietly. "He loves his animals more than us."

Iltar smirked, imitating someone who Cilla assumed to be the old man. "‘The runners are the important thing. They race, they win, they bring in the marks. You just sit on top of them. You can be replaced.’"

"So help me!" The older man shook his fist at them. "If you’ve messed up my new runner, I’ll kill you both!! I leave you out in Thread! I’ll...I’ll..."

"Hurt us?" Meodoc offered.

The older man glared. "YES!!!" He walked over to the horse and began petting it’s flank. The horse snorted and stomped, but didn’t freak out again. "Calm down sweet-heart. I won’t let the mean idiots touch you anymore."

Cilla had only known this man for seconds, but already she didn’t want to get on his bad side. "D’you think you can stand?" She realized that Iltar and Meodoc had moved to either side of her and each had one of her arms. Meodoc had whispered the question so the other man couldn’t hear them.

Cilla nodded. "I’ll just go home now..."

"Not so fast!!" The man whirled and pointed his walking stick at her. "Are you the inbred little wherry who spooked my horse?"

For a moment, Cilla was too shocked to speak. Around a professional breeder, or his daughter, being called inbred was a severe insult. "I...I...."

"Naw." Meodoc, still holding her right arm, began to cover for her. "She’s a breeder’s kid, she’d never do anything like that."

"Yeah." Iltar was still holder her left arm. Cilla was grateful for both of them, the world felt like it was spinning. "She risked life and limb to help the runner and save a kid Master Undil."

The man, nameless no longer, looked her over once before snorting. "Looks like she got herself pummelled." He turned back to the horse.

Cilla was ready to snap. She balled her fists and tried to take a step forward, but now Iltar and Meodoc were holding her back. They smiled at her and Meodoc winked. "That beast threw her not ten minutes ago, and already she’s back on her feet...even if she does look like something the feline dragged in."

Cilla glared at him. "Don’t push it..."

"She’s tall, but she’s really thin." Iltar continued.

"And she can’t be any older than what?" Meodoc looked at her. "Nineteen."

"Eighteen." She corrected, officially confused. "But I don’t see what that..."

"See?" Meodoc turned back to the Master Breeder. "She’s done growing. Unless she’s married..."

"No." Cilla filled in. "But what..."

"Or has a better plan..." Iltar interrupted.

"No. But..."

"Hrmph." Master Undil cut her off with a snort as he walked closer to them. Meodoc and Iltar were still supporting her, but sensing that she was being judged, Cilla shook them off. Her vision swam, but she managed to stay upright. Jevyan sat at her feet, purring.

"She has a concussion. She probably can’t see anything. But that’ll heal." Undil kept appraising her. "She has an attitude."

"So do I." Meodoc smirked.

"She’d have to lose a few pounds."

"We’ll toughen her up." Iltar responded.

"She’s a girl."

"Runnners can’t tell the difference."

Undil looked at both his apprentices, obviously curious as to why they were so enthusiastic about this girl. "Why her?"

Meodoc rubbed his chest where Cilla had collided with him. "Let’s just say I fell for her."

Undil glared at Cilla for a few more minutes while the breeder’s child straightened her back and tried to look impressive. Undil snorted. "Your name?"

Cilla was silent for a moment again. It had been a long time since anyone had asked her for her name. "Cilla. Daughter of..." She found herself about to say her father’s name and stopped.

Undil smirked. "Daughter of noone?"

Cilla glared, recognizing her chance to become what she’d always wanted to become, to make a name for herself. And she’d be threadscarred before she let her father in on her glory. "Just Cilla sir."

Undil smiled. "Well Just Cilla." He noted her glare, but didn’t say anything. "I’m Master Undil, the Beastcrafter in charge of the stables at Adanuk Weyr. These are Meodoc and Iltar, my apprentices and my jockeys."

Cilla finally understood exactly what was going on. "Oh..." The ground began to ripple again and she found herself losing her balance.

Undil just smiled. "Can you ride?"

Somebody caught her before she hit the ground. She stared up at the spinning sky, feeling herself losing consciousness again. "Like the wind." Everything went dark for the second time that night.

Cilla at Adanuk Weyr...

* * *
Jevyan’s picture from Sapphire Weyr.
Background from Myrror Images.
Cilla’s picture from The Woman Says.