The Power of a Few

The City ~ 9

   Myra hurried to catch up with the caravan. She and her family had run into the motley crew of merchants a few days ago and decided on traveling with the company.

   "Traveling in a group is safer," her father had said. But the fast pace of the caravan wouldn't allow her to draw. The last time she had sketched was before their final night in Erarld, and her fingers ached to hold a charcoal pencil once more. She tried finding time to cram in a sketch or two, but the moments of scratching in her leather notebook created such a distance between her and the wagons that she had to run to catch up.

   She stopped beside Sree, panting, and handed her the leather book. Sree cradled it in her palms, careful to not rub out any lines. Her eyes opened wide as she scanned the sketch.

   "It's beautiful," she said. Myra's cheeks flushed red with bashfulness.
   "It's only a flower," she muttered, "and the drawing isn't that good, anyway."
   Sree turned to Myra, jaw dropped. "Honey," she chided, "if you derogate your talents one more time, I'll climb the highest peak and shout your praise for the world to hear."
   Myra grinned. "You're talking like an old lady again."
   "And do I not have the right to do so?!" Sree swatted Myra's arm and the two sisters giggled.           Myra reached to retrieve her treasure trove of memories but Sree pulled the book to her chest and pouted.
   "Can't I look at some more?" She whined.
   Myra longed to hold the book, to feel the rough leather in her grasps, but she consented and allowed her sister to flip through the pages.
   She left Sree in all her curiosity and trotted up to her father's side. He was conversing with Trovo, a book trader with a wispy white beard and piercing blue eyes. From what she could gather, he had arrived in a port not too far from her village and was transporting ancient manuscripts to U'ralli, the biggest city of the Southern Isle. His wagon was ladened with scrolls and ancient texts kept in trunks to protect them from the elements. Myra could smell that rich scent of yellowing paper and her mind spun with stories of eras and battles those scrolls had survived through, each word bringing knowledge of a time long lost to mankind.

   Deciding not to eavesdrop on her father's conversation, she turned her attention to the surrounding scenery. Fenced plains of lowing cattle spread out on her left and right, showing their arrival to civilized lands. Up ahead the ground rose into a wide hill and exotic scents drifted over the hilltop. She breathed them in, wondering what laid beyond the grassy mound.

   Her father's touch startled her, and she returned to reality with a jump. He chuckled.

   "Here." He handed her a lovely, brown pocket book.

   "For me?" She asked.

   Her father nodded. "I bartered it off of Trovo. The old man has a rather infatuated interest in cookies."

   Myra looked over her father's shoulder and saw the old merchant stuffing one of Sree's cookies in his mouth. The brown crumbs dusted his white beard, making him look like an eccentric old hermit. Myra stifled a laugh and turned to her confused father.

   "Why are you laughing?" He asked.

   "Me? Laugh. Nonsense." She folded her arms and stuck out her chin, "You're getting hard of hearing, old man."

   Her father sighed and handed her the book. "Sometimes, I just don't understand you."

   "Makes life all the more adventurous," Myra said with a wink. She hurried ahead of the caravan, eager to read the book without falling behind the group. When she was a couple yards ahead, she opened the book and squealed in delight. Beautiful birds flitted in the pages. Red robins perched on branches, sparrows chirped at one another, and a bird Myra didn't recognize picked at an exotic fruit with a long, black and yellow beak. The bright colors intoxicated Myra with fascination as she flipped through the book. She found a page with a bright blue bird. She was imprinting the small creature to memory when her foot caught on the rock and she fell on her face. The fall wasn't painful, and she quickly rolled onto her stomach, trying to make it seem as if this spot of turf was particularly interesting.