I woke to the sound of footsteps below. Rolling over to look out the small window in my room I saw that it was well past the time to be up. Quickly I got out of bed and changed. Throwing the blanket back into its fixed position I hoped that my mother would not come to check on the quality of my work.
Silently I slid down the latter from the loft to the kitchen. My mother was just beginning to make breakfast. I went to work gathering the dishes and setting the table. As I did, I watched my mother as she cooked.
Both my parents had been born and raised here in the town of Ta’lana. Like everyone else in the surrounding area, my parents were Welsches. The women kept their brown hair long and always back in a braid. Most were barely five foot and all were on the plump side. Cooking is the favorite past time of the women of Kinderland. While every region had their town platters, you would always find the women folk in the kitchen.
The men wore their brown hair long as well, more out of laziness then anything. While they were the ones to do all the hunting and farming, they rarely got much accomplished. You could pass many farms and see the men folk sitting the porch telling the boys in fields what they were doing wrong.
Men were a few inches taller then women and in some cases shorter, but that was rare. All Welsches had brown hair and brown eyes. Their naturally tan bodies were the color of the dirt. Clothing here was always brown or the shades of the leaves at harvest time. Silk and other fine fabrics were prized possessions and rare. My nightgown had been my mothers and after several alterations was a present for my 18th birthday.
As I watched my mother I couldn’t help but feel like a cast out. I had been found by a traveler that had happened to be passing by and heard my cries. He brought me here to Ta’lana to find a home. Coming across my parents’ farm on his way to town, he stopped to ask for milk. Unable to have children of her own, my mother had become the town’s godmother to all the children. She told me often that I had been an answer to her prayers.
I didn’t know of what heritage I came from, only that I was different. My six foot figure towered over the locals. I kept my white hair short and pulled back even though strands would fall into my face on a regular basis. My mother had been so upset when I cut my hair at the end of harvest season. She loved to sit in front of the fireplace each night and braid my long flowing locks.
A smile crept across my face as I headed out towards the barn. My hair would be the same length it was by the end of harvest season this year. I had taken over the farming for my father after his incident with the plow last season. Now he would hobble around with his cane cursing up a storm about not being able to do the farming any longer. Though he would contently sit on the porch and bark orders to me.
Not only was my height drastically different from the natives of Ta’lana, but my eyes were a brilliant blue, almost white color. At night they would shine like the stars. I had startled my parents on many occasions. My skin was a pale cream white regardless of how many hours I spent in the sun and my body had transformed into a firm and muscular frame when I had become of age.
The barn smelled of freshly cut hay and the horses were already baying for their breakfast. I quickly went about my chores and stopped by the hen house to gather fresh eggs for my mother.
When I entered the house, my father was already sitting at the table smoking his pipe and discussing the day’s business with my mother. I assisted my mother in finishing and serving breakfast before sitting at the table. I ate quietly listening to my father chatter on about the weather.
A chill ran down my spine suddenly. I looked up from the table and at my parents, neither seemed to have felt the same. I tried to push the uneasy feelings out of my mind as I cleared the table.
