Risk

Chapter III

Jasta awoke before the sun. Her eyes had trouble adjusting to the darkness of the room, but she was used to it by now, and she didn't need to see to know where anything was. She got ready as quick as her fumbling fingers could manage. The east sky was starting to gray when she stepped out of her little room.

Unlike the day before, the fire had not gone out and there were still glowing embers in the hearth. Jasta added a piece of wood to ensure it would stay like that for a while longer. There was a big tub of clothes to be mended in the corner of the room. They had gotten behind on their work.

Jasta, her mom, and Rose were the village seamstresses. But only because there was no one else for the job. They weren't exactly the best at it, but at least it was a way to earn a little extra. She grabbed a needle and thread and started mending the various shirts, pants, and socks.

When she was halfway done with a blue-dyed, wool shirt, Rose lifted her sleepy head off of her pillow. Sleeping on the couch looked uncomfortable. She dressed and sat down next to Jasta without a word. The work went much faster with two people. But it was still agonizingly slow.

Jasta thought about starting a conversation several times, but she decided against breaking the comfortable silence. When the box of clothing was halfway finished, their mother came out, her eyes bright as if she had been up for hours. She sat down and, with a cheerful good morning, started darning a sock.

When the box of higher priority items was finally empty, Jasta had pricked her finger several times. She had never been very good with a needle. Not as good as her mother or Rose, anyway. Her pricked fingers were sore but she knew that there was still work to be done. She would have to leave the other two women to continue.

The sun was completely up by now. Jasta walked out of the back door and started to tend the garden. Rose should really be the one to do the gardening, but she was better at sewing, so it was up to Jasta not to kill the plants.

There were still slugs and snails on the undersides of the young leaves and she cringed every time that she had to smoosh a snail under her boot. They crunched loudly.

She grabbed the bucket of water that they always kept full and soon, had watered the entire garden. She hoped she hadn't overwatered anything, like last time. She'd nearly killed their whole crop of tomatoes.

The bucket was empty, so she walked through the house and out the front door to refill it. She walked through the village, which was rapidly being filled with sounds of walking up and starting the day. A rooster crowed as she reached the rain barrel and filled her bucket.

She was home soon and she put the bucket where it lived on the upright wood round in the garden. She picked up a pile of edible waste-plants and fed it to the pigs. They grunted happily like they always did when they received food. The younger pigs tried to eat the leafy plants, but they were still too young to chew them and they soon gave up to focus instead on Esa's milk.

Jasta spent the rest of the day working. She cleaned the house, scrubbing and scrubbing until it was as clean as she could make it. She had to go and get fresh water more than once. She worked in the garden, tending the neat rows of veggies, being extra careful so that she didn't kill anything but the weeds. She fixed minor leaks in the roof, plugged up holes in the walls with fresh stream-bed clay, and she ran other errands. She purchased new tools from the blacksmith, saying hello to Etta when she did. Spring was busier than she remembered, but then, it seemed like that every year.

She was relieved when the afternoon crept past and she was done with her chores. She ran the entire length of the way to the forest, only pausing halfway to catch her breath. She had her bow and quiver over her shoulders.

She reveled in the sounds of the forest, mimicking some of the calls of the birds in far off trees with the ease of many month's practice. She put an arrow to her bow, resting for a minute as her eyes darted between the trees. She quickly spotted her prey.

It was a young quail, puffing its bright feathers in the dying light of the sun. It pecked dumbly at the ground even though no food was visible. Her bowstring was taut and ready within seconds.

Her arrow shot true and the quail didn't have any time to even get out a warning call before it was struck right in the eye.

A flock of quail flew up from under the foliage, obviously startled by the death of their guardian male quail. She shot at the flying group but missed, and then ran over to where her prey had fallen and pulled the arrow out of its skull. There was very little blood and the quail's weight felt satisfying in her bag.

The sun was too low to keep going, thanks to the day's long and toilsome work. She turned back towards Yarul.

When she got back home, the last night's stew was heating on the stove. There was a loaf of freshly cut bread on the table. The whole house smelled clean again. Jasta sighed in contentment, despite the fact that she had worked harder than usual on the spring cleaning.

Her mother and Rose walked in through the back door. They had probably been enjoying the garden after a hard day of work. The tub of clothes hardly seemed any emptier, though, and Jasta stifled a sigh.

The night was just like all of the nights at home. The chatter was warm and they all laughed, although a tad less brightly due to the extra work that spring had heaped upon them. Jasta could practically see the invisible weight of work that had settled on each of their shoulders. Now that spring had started, people would be working more, and the more they worked, the more they tore their clothes. Travelers and merchants would wander by, needing their clothes mended, and any number of other things.

Even though Jasta had her work, which would have belonged to the man of the house had there been a man, Rose and her mother had mended all through the day. The work was tiring and made the fingers of the worker sore and raw, even though they all had heavily calloused hands.

Jasta was grateful when she was finally able to lay her weary head down on her pillow. The day's work had pulled her energy out of her and she was almost unable to undress before sinking into her bed. The roaring fire in the hearth had warmed the house and she felt no need for the heavy woolen blanket. Soon there would be no need for a fire, either, as the days turned heavy with the heat of summer.

The rest of the week passed, quite uneventful. She worked, as usual, through the week, looking forward to the day-off the entire time.

Although she didn't work quite so hard as the first day of the spring cleaning, every day had its tasks and Jasta was bleary-eyed and sore by the end of the week. It seemed to get harder with every springtime that passed.

On the last day of the week, she let out a heavy sigh as she lay her head down on her pillow. The next day would be the day off. She could almost feel her tense muscles relax at the thought. Maybe she could go on a picnic with Etta for lunch.