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A MEADOW WAS PAINTED GOLD IN THE SUNS WAKING YAWNS. As it's arms of light stretch across the thick grass and blooming flowers the two little girls lay in the middle. The leaves tickling their skin softly as they peer at the beauty before them. A sky kissing good morning to the earth with warm pinks and lightening blues. The meadow waves the sun good morning when a small breeze brushes pasts the little girls, sending the two shivering from the nights cold air lingering like dew on a rainy day.
Home.
This was where the girls called home. If they peered over their thin shoulders, they would've found that small and cramp wooden home looming in the distance. A Beacon for the girls to come back to and be welcomed from their mother with comforting arms. Their father had already waved them goodbye, on his way to hunt down breakfast with the other warrior men and women in the village. The other children were still sleeping to be ready of a day of learning and chores, adults already roaming around. But no one approached the two laying girls in the meadow. They let them have this small window of peace, let them see a world not coated in blood and forested in backstabbing. But a world of peace.
Reyna turns her head to look at her little sister. Lexa's eyes were fluttering shut, sleep looming over her head in quiet whispers of dreams. Her face still held the baby fat in her cheeks and nose, a complete copy of how their mother looked. Eyes the color of sparkling waters in the north and hair bronze brown that gleam with blonde strips.
Reyna was the replica of her father in every way. With sharp features, forest green eyes, and a body built to hold layer after layer of muscle. A girl who will grow to become a ruthless warrior. Her father always boasted to his friends in the village.
But Reyna will hold on to her innocence a little longer, hold on to that child like view of a colorful world before she was shoved into the grey. Because once a girl is claimed by the villages leader to join the Commanders ranks, there was no going back to that world. A sword was shoved into your hand, clothes clamped in armor, back straight, and mind clear. Ready for training and orders.
So Reyna held on to it all. She held on the cleanness of her hands, for not one drop of blood has caked her skin. No weapon has been gripped in her small fingers.
Brushing those fingers over the silk soft petal of a flower near her head, Reyna slides the other into her sister own palm. Let her finger curl into her own and lock. Lexa's own lock up, squeezing her sisters palm weakly as sleep slowly takes a hold of her mind and body.
Reyna held on, and Lexa held right back.
____
Reyna stares longingly at the painting of a meadow, the golden strands of wheat and grass forever paused mid sway. Not a painting of her and Lexa's meadow... but a meadow. A meadow that brought too much to the surface. Of the warm sound of her mother's laugh, of her fathers rough voice when he told stories of his glorious battles, of the soft feathers her pet bird used to ruffle under Reyna's delicate pets.
