The Illyrian Warrior

Chapter One

Davina washed her family's clothes in the river. She took extra care with her father's tunic and pants. She soaked them thoroughly and then rubbed away any dirt or grime. She didn't need another reason for him to hate her. Her little sister, Wren, was picking little yellow flowers a few paces away from her. Davina didn't have the heart to tell her that those flowers were actually weeds, she knew that Wren would return to her in a moment and hand them to her in a little homemade bouquet. Davina would accept them and when she got home she would place them with the others.

As Davina laid the clothes out on the green grass to dry, she watched Wren take her time examining the bees and butterflies. Wren had long blonde hair like their mother, it flowed down to her waist and had soft waves similar to that of the ocean. Only once a week were Davina and Wren allowed to travel this far from the camp, and that was to do the laundry. Davina laid back on the grass, gazing at the spring sun that seemed to wash her in its honey glow. Wren soon joined her, passing her the flowers she had picked, their yellow the colour of egg yolk. As Wren adjusted her wings to lay down, Davina noticed the difference between the two. While Wren had soft, rosy cheeks, hair that shined in the sun and a smile that seemed to not only brighten Davina's day but everyone's. Davina however, was all sharp angles and dark eyes, her hair the colour of mud, her eyes the colour of tree bark. Davina looked like her father, it was the one thing she hated about herself.

"How long until father's clothes are dry?" Wren asked.

"Not long".

Wren sighed sadly. It wasn't long until they would have to return to their house in the Illyrian camp and check that their father approved of Davina's washing abilities. He wouldn't, of course he wouldn't. No matter how particular Davina was with her washing, no matter how thorough she was, it was never good enough. She was starting to believe that he would find any excuse to punish her.

The two sisters lay under the sun until their skin was getting uncomfortably hot and their backs sore. Davina sat up and hesitantly she checked whether her father's clothes were dry. They were.

"Come on, Wren, we should get back".

Wren sighed but stood up with her sister, both of them stretching their wings. Davina's wings had been clipped a long time ago, Wren was still too young. Although Davina's wings had been clipped she took the time every night to practice her balance, among other things.

Davina gently folded the clothes and placed them in the basket she had brought them down in, she sat Wren's little bouquet on top. Together, the sisters walked back up the hill from the river and towards their house which was at the edge of the camp, it was only a short walk but both sisters had the unspoken understanding that they would walk home slow. Davina looked over her shoulder one last time as the river faded from view, until next week, she thought. The sun was slowly setting, it's warm glow disappearing as it was replaced with the menacing sky of night.

The lights in their house were on when they arrived which meant father was home early from work. Davina took several calming breaths before she went inside, the foolish hope that one day she might be free from this place was the only reason she continued her pitiful routine. She had decided long ago that nobody would rescue her from this hole and that if anybody was going to get her and Wren out, it would be herself.

"Good evening, Papa", Wren said, all smiles and cheer.

"Hello my little bird!" Their father said picking up Wren and swinging her around playfully.

Davina envied their relationship. Why must it be her that took the beatings and the berating? That was a stupid question and she knew it. It was because Wren looked like mother. As much as Davina's father was a cruel man, he would never hurt their mother, even though she had left this world long ago, Wren was a spitting image. Davina didn't speak as she sat the washing basket on the kitchen counter, tucking the flowers into her dress pocket. She only hoped Wren could distract their father long enough that she could get away. Wren was young but she wasn't stupid, she knew how their father treated Davina but what was she supposed to do? In all honesty, Davina hoped she would do nothing, just stay quiet, maybe Davina could help Wren live the life she never had.