Snowblind {complete}

Wet - Curiosity

It wasn't Lanna's last trip to the shrubbery. Chowa believed in painful lessons.

As the days marched past, she wondered what the great First City would look like. Chowa had dismissed her questions on the topic as unimportant, so Lanna's imagination ran riot. She couldn't see anything wrong in her interest and grew more determined to find out information. It was the only form of rebellion she had.

One balmy morning she awoke with a new purpose. Eyes fluttering open, she inhaled the familiar scent of lush grass and dew. For a moment, she listened to an unknown bird as it called out to mark the rising sun.

Her new quest would take her mind off the village. She didn't want to admit how keenly she still missed Hemil. Lanna hadn't realised how much time she'd spent with him. He had simply been there with his quick smiles, throaty chuckles and, when he could get away with them, needy kisses. She felt the broken edges of her heart cut into her every time she thought of him.

Before tears could prick her eyes again, she grabbed a disk of polished copper Chowa had given her, called a 'reflector' in Imperial. Keeping a close eye on her orange-tinted image, Lanna pulled at her curly brown hair and used pins as Chowa did to pull bouncing strands from her face.

'Forgive me, ancestors, and forgive me, Ma. Do not look upon me harshly for this.' The Southern words dropped from her lips and she chuckled.

Riding a kelen required supportive attire that wouldn't do for what she planned. Lanna unbound her breasts and pulled her tunic down somewhat, to show a little of what she had below. She pulled on her skirt and hitched it up to show more leg and used a few pins to make sure the garment gaped to flash plenty of thigh.

If only she could get Frez to open up some. Every other attempt she'd made to talk to him had failed. In fact, he wouldn't even look at her, even though they were both Southern.

'Frez isn't even of middle years,' she muttered to herself as she folded her sleeping attire away. 'I wager his duties don't allow him to cast his rod very often.' Another wicked grin pulled at her lips. She had no intention of doing more than drawing the slave's eye. She peeped into the reflector one last time and pursed her lips at her umber image. Then she skipped out of her tent.

The morning mist lay heavy on the ranks of tents. Dew rolled off the canvas and coated spears of grass with crumbs of iridescent crystal.

A warm smell of fruit with a starchy undernote drew her towards the middle of the camp. Frez stood beside a huge pot of porridge, stirring as it simmered over a blazing fire.

He wasn't unpleasant to look at. The morning breeze teased at his blond locks, and his strong features and stubble would have served him well at choosing time. But he made her heart ache for her father and brother. Besides, after Hemil had wiggled his way into her affections, she suspected she might be stuck with a preference for Imperial men.

'Greetings to you, Clansman,' she said in the brightest tone she could muster.

Frez didn't even pause his stirring. 'You'll be scolded by Misra Chowa if she hears you speak Southern,' he muttered at the pot. The fire crackled and spat as if to punctuate his words.

Lanna flinched at his lukewarm reception but pushed ahead with her plan, strolling over to the cooking pot. Only then did he glance up at her. Blue eyes moved over her exposed limbs and low tunic, and she forced herself to relax even as her stomach fluttered.

'You shouldn't worry about your appearance,' he mumbled. 'You'll receive instruction on how to dress at the palace.'

Lanna recoiled, tugging her tunic back up to her shoulders in a sharp jerk.