“Can you believe it?” I exclaimed to Sable as I sat next to him while vigorously working with a needle, mending a torn blouse. “Historia is teaching me to read!”

  “Good for you,” he simply replied while laying in his normal resting position in the meadow. He chewed on sweet grass that I had given him, and bobbed his black boot resting over his legs while pressing his head against his hands resting from behind.

  “And, oh the books!” I continued declaring, nearly piercing my finger with the needle. “She has so many books. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Then, my eyes hurt from all the words. But, now! Oh, now I am starting to understand the words by learning the alphabet. Reading is so fun, but also terrifying. There are so many words and letters to learn. So many things to know. And Historia—oh wow what a name—what a woman!”

  “She sounds nice.”

  “I know, right? She’s incredibly nice and oh my favorite person ever. I can’t believe she would be so kind to me.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be kind?” His face scrunched in his typical confused expression whenever he asked questions, narrowing his brows and his eyes darted about as he obviously awaited for any explanation.

  “Oh! Not many people like helping kids. Adults are so rude sometimes.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. Most people hate kids. I often get called a gremlin, or stupid. Always gettin’ threatened to be run over or thrown aside.”

  “Why?”

  “Well—uh.” I paused my mending, realizing I had not the faintest idea why adults were cruel to children. I thought of my parents and of the other adults walking through the city pushing their carts over my feet whenever I played or even walked through the streets. I thought about the people who often sneered or looked down on me and the others, or the woman who sent me to the library, laughing after instructing me to go to the tavern first.

  “I don’t know,” I finally said, a weird feeling welling within my stomach. “Adults are just busy. But it doesn’t matter. Historia is kind and wants to help me. So, that is what I will focus on.”

  “Interesting,” Sable muttered.

  “What about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do adults treat you? You know, up on the mountain with the other Teraganes?” Upon my words, Sable paused his bouncing foot, and he looked up, his mind contemplating his answer. He pursed his lips, then made a quiet clicking noise with his tongue.

  “Respectfully,” he replied, then nodded.

  “Oh, that must be nice,” I said while looking down at my hands still holding the needle and the torn blouse. It was an item given to me by my mother, from another family whose daughter had grown out of her clothes as she aged. I always got other people’s clothes, which were often torn and stained, but with my mother’s help, I could always mend and repair the damages. Although, I never liked being around the older girls, especially as they would laugh at the clothes they once wore, boasting about all the new items their parents had bought them—even though I knew it was almost always a lie. Rarely did anyone from the low-levels get new clothes.

  Maybe everyone was just mean in Cedrus City.

  “It’s all I’ve ever known,” Sable said quietly.

  “Your culture sounds nice—your people considerate.”

  “Perhaps, but” —Sable paused, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward— “I was never taught how to read or write. The Sage deemed it unworthy for younglings to read—only a Sage holds the understanding of written languages. One must be selected, and I was not. Therefore, I will never learn.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling surprised. He seemed so intelligent and advanced. I had thought for sure he was educated to some extent. “Want me to teach you? I can let you copy my work after I’ve had my lesson with Historia.”

  “No, thanks. I have no use for books or writing—as the Sage have already destined.”

  “Oh, okay.” I looked away. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “Not at all, and I appreciate your desire to instruct me. That’s a very nice offer.” I gazed at Sable again, noticing his genuine smile as he held the sweet grass between his fingers. “But, I am happy for you. You seem really excited. I’m glad you found a nice adult to teach you something that brings you joy.” With a final glisten to his eyes, he then leaned back, returning to his relaxed position as he placed the grass back into his mouth, chewing happily once again.

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling a natural sense of acceptance from Sable. While I continued to mend the torn second-hand clothes from older girls who didn’t even like me, I chatted the rest of the afternoon about Historia, going on for hours about her library, her much more interesting clothes, and how excited I was to learn how to officially read and write. As usual, Sable listened, muttering comments here and there, allowing me to ramble until it was time to return home for the day.

  I began visiting Historia’s library every morning on my quest to become more educated and utilize the extensive knowledge in which the woman provided within the bookshelves. I woke up earlier than my mother to start the chores, quickly preparing the fireplace and cooking the morning porridge while preparing my father’s lunch before he would leave for the mines. I did all my chores, and left the house before my mother could find more jobs for me to do.

  I would skip my way down to the market square where early risers crowded the narrow streets, but my agile figure easily maneuvered through without a single boot upon my toes, a skill I had quickly perfected. While the evening lanterns were being extinguished by the city lamplighters, I would turn into the right street, the familiar path became something I anticipated, even as I ran past the smelly tavern that most likely was never cleaned. Opening the red door to the library always filled my little heart with excitement as the waft of paper and ink filled my nostrils, and the early morning light cast through the small glass windows that reflected upon the hanging pieces of glass that shed its light around the halls of knowledge. It was like entering a magical world each time I passed through the red doorway.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Historia was full of life and wonder, always patient with my flaws, and quick to keep me entertained with the process of gaining an education. She told me that she held private lessons for others in the afternoons, but mornings were reserved for the public use, and many people from the city came through those same magical doors in search of knowledge and help. Young or old, tall or short, poor or wealthy, Historia never discriminated, and I valued her ability to see past differences that I had learned others use as a source to judge. Even when they were rude, she never allowed their negativity to deter her—she was as magical as the library itself.

  Before the winter months came, I was already reading on my own, and Historia lent me books about plants, and I was successful in finding edible ones to share with my family. I learned about other foods like berries, roots, and mushrooms. After lessons, I would scamper off into the forest outside of the city limits, and discover what I was learning about, gathering everything I could find according to its season. Naturally, I would also take small portions of my hard-earned findings to Sable as we continued to meet in the meadow, usually after my foraging. My mother scolded me less the more I brought home delicious foods for her to incorporate into her cooking, providing me with a sense of accomplishment as my family was benefitting from my daily, hard work.

  “You’re doing a wonderful job,” she told me one autumn morning. “Those mushrooms were absolutely delicious. I bet even the Masters don’t eat something as delicate as that.”

  “Probably because they wouldn’t dare enter the forest to find them cause they’re a bunch of chickens,” I joked with a mischievous grin. “Not like me.”

  “Thank goodness my daughter is a little gremlin,” she laughed, causing my heart to sink, no longer beaming with pride. Gremlins were taunting creatures used in stories to persuade naughty children into obedience. Their only goals in life were to wreak havoc and cause mischief to wayward children. I wished my mother would use other mythical creatures to describe me, ones more heroic and enduring—although I did not know of any in existence. In fact, most stories were only about formidable characters no child desired to represent.

  Maybe that was the point.

  “If anyone is a gremlin, it would be Thabias,” I said while aggressively washing the dishes of our evening meal, pouting my lips at my mother’s hurtful words.

  “All of you children are gremlins,” she said, piercing through my already aching heart like a knife, then promptly left the room, leaving me to attend the evening chores all by myself.

  ***

  “I don’t fly during winter,” Sable announced to me one cold afternoon while we met in the meadow.

  “Oh? Why not?” I asked needlessly as I tugged a blanket draped over my shoulders, attempting to keep myself warm as we sat on another woolen blanket while the cold early winter winds blew through the clearing.

  “It’s dangerous, possibly fatal for a Teragane to fly in the winter,” he explained while sitting perfectly still, although his woolen cloak designed with many layers seemed adequate enough to keep him warm, but I knew that the mountain summit was starkly different than the forest area.

  “I stay within my home during winter,” he continued while the wind tossed his black, jagged hair around, yet he seemed rather indifferent, never once pushing it aside—not while I continued to tuck the loose hair behind my ears, wishing I had braided it.

  “So, I guess I won’t see you until spring?”

  “That is ideal.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Well, maybe I will learn so much by spring that I can start bringing a book to read to you. Would you like that? Historia says I need to practice my fluency.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll get so good at reading that I will start bringing books to read to you.” I lunged towards Sable, startling him into an upright position. “I’m gonna study so hard, I’ll be able to read anything you want—just name it, and I’ll bring it. Historia has so many books, I’m sure we can spend the rest of our life reading.” Sable’s startled expression relaxed as a smile formed across his face, and he slightly tilted his head.

  “I look forward to seeing you in spring and hearing you read to me.”

  I left the meadow saying my goodbyes with a new spring to my step, regardless of the cold season settling upon the land. It didn’t really dawn on me what it meant to not see Sable all winter, but I already had so many swirling ideas and exciting adventures ahead that it didn’t really matter. However, with Historia, I could learn and enjoy being her student, but I had no other kids my age to share the experience. No one in my neighborhood would dare go to the extent of seeking out educational lessons—believe me, I tried encouraging them, and they just told me I was crazy.

  During that winter, I spent most mornings with Historia learning to read and write. I took books home to continue practicing, keeping them hidden in my room, too afraid to tell my parents, but since they were benefiting from my lessons, I felt justified in not informing where I went in the mornings. I wanted to tell my mother, but often did not find the courage on the account of how she usually discounted things that brought me joy, especially if she thought them unnecessary or horrendous. My father did not think much of anything outside of the mine. His job was his life; work, earning a wage in order to pay taxes and buy food, and smoking his pipe in the evenings. They never did once care to understand my interest. Why risk it now?

  “You would do well in the mine,” my father said to me as we sat on the balcony while he smoked his pipe. “It’s a good job, and easy to learn.”

  “It sounds like a terribly dark place,” I replied as I braided some dried grass, preparing a proofing basket for my mother to use.

  “You get used to it, plus, we find a lot of shiny rocks.”

  “I can find shiny rocks near the lake.”

  “The lake?” He suddenly coughed, and pounded his chest with a fist. “What are you doing out there? That is too far from home.”

  “It’s not that far.”

  “You must never go there again. You hear me?”

  “But—”

  “No buts! I forbid you from ever going to the lake.” I looked up at my father who sat on the three-legged stool and his gray, exhausted eyes glared as smoke swirled around his wrinkled face. “You’re too young and feeble to be wandering that far from the city.”

  “Then why don’t you go with me?” I asked grinning as I continued to braid without the need to even look at my hands that had learned the skill many years before. “The lake between the mountains is really beautiful. Maybe we could go fishing. Maybe we’ll see some Teraganes out there. They live on the mountains, did you know that?”

  “I would never want to meet a Teragane.” My father grunted as he placed the pipe into his mouth again, his eyes drifting away as he rested his head against the side of the house. My throat felt lumpy, and a sense of guilt rose as my father’s words caused my whole body to feel uncomfortable.

  “Why not?”

  “Why are you so obsessed with asking about these people? I already told you earlier this year that they are not to be trusted and you should stay away from them.”

  “Okay, but, what if a Teragane worked in the mines—with you? How could you stay away from them if they—”

  “What nonsense are you going on about? Teraganes would never work in the mines. Stop with this silly nonsense.”

  “I’m just asking, what if you have to work with someone that you don’t really like?” My father grunted as he puffed out smoke, and the sound of his teeth clenching the wooden pipe clinked loudly.

  “You ignore them, of course.”

  “What if they’re good people?”

  “I said enough of your silly nonsense.”

  “Fine, what about fishing? Want to do that with me?”

  “I have no time for fishing.” I looked down and sighed, and a slight shiver ran down my spine as the cold, putrid city wind blew through the narrow streets of the neighborhood.

  I had always felt apprehensive of telling my parents about Sable. It was obvious that they were like everyone else of the city—judgmental of those different from them or who lived a life beyond their understanding.

  It’s a good thing I’m around Historia—at least she doesn’t seem to care about those things.