7.2 The Witchling Shama

I found myself once more admiring the dress in the mirror. Mrs. Penn had found a dress that fit me perfectly. The hem reached clear down to my ankles, and the sleeves cupped at exactly the right spot at my wrists. The tiny blue daises around the collar and sleeves gave the dress a gentle touch, one most of the girls in my houses back in the village had never been lucky enough to have. Embroidery was something that cost extra, and my village hadn’t been known for its wealth, nor had parents been willing to add such frills to a dress, figuring it might make the girl overly proud or vain.

But even if the girls had been given such a wondrous gift, I would never have been its recipient. When they outgrew it, they would have removed the collar and cuffs and transferred them to another dress. The dainty blue trim was that special. Besides, I’d never been given a new anything. Even my shoes were hand-me-downs.

Speaking of shoes, I looked down at mine. They were serviceable boots, the leather aged and cracking, and right now they held layers of encrusted mud. The boots had once been my pride and joy because they were hard toed, which made them good for riding Frey. They’d been comfortable, too, when I’d purchased them, but I’d outgrown them a while back and hadn’t earned enough money to replace them.

Maybe in this new town, I would find a job, something to pay for things like a new pair of boots, a currycomb, brush, some fly spray and some sweets for the little boys. But meanwhile, I was stuck with the overly tight boots. I’d need to get a rag to wipe them off. Some saddle soap would be good, too. I’d add that to my wish list of items to buy.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *