Novel Opening Page

It wasn't how she imagined sickness would look. Some days he would be fine, standing on his own and working in his study, or teaching her how to run the business once he was gone. She would spend those days pretending everything was fine, pretending the sickness was nothing more than a memory. Other days, he would be confined to his bed and had to be waited on as if he were an elder unable to manage a life that was so fast-paced. Most days he would be stuck somewhere in the middle. He could walk, but not for long, and his skin was always tinted gray, the same color as the logs once the flames had suckled long enough at their ridges.

His head was lolled to the side, his chest rising slowly with each breath. She sat on the floor, her eyes flitting between his sleeping form and the fire at the tip of her toes. The tiles that lined the wide fireplace were heated just enough to keep her bare feet tingling. Glancing out the window, she could see the sun starting to light the sky with a soft salmon pink. Hopping to her feet, she pulled her long cinnamon hair into a ponytail and flattened the wrinkles in her maroon plaited skirt. She picked the leftover dust off of her black blouse as she tiptoed to the door and wrapped her dark purple cloak around her shoulders. Just as she pulled the hood over her hair, she heard his voice behind her.

“Kimber,” her Pa said sternly.

“Yes?” she answered without turning to him. Though his visage was one of sickness, his voice was authoritative. It had the same strength that his eyes had whenever they were open, as if there were a fire were inside of him, invigorating him.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

Kimber hesitated before answering. “Go back to sleep, Pa. You need the rest.”

Then she slipped out of the door onto the dew covered cobblestone path. Behind her rose the LaStell manor, a house that had been in the LaStell family for generations. She cut across the grass, flattening it with the soles of her knee-high black boots. To either side of the manor rose a twisted tree with black bark and orange-red leaves shaped like curled dragon wings. There was a light rain, more of a mist of the magenta colored water than a steady dripping. Kimber ran along the cobblestones, her feet not making a sound except when she landed in a puddle. She moved quickly down the road past the six other HighFolk manors toward the Erian Bridge. The bridge connected the HighFolk part of the city to the rest of the establishment, and rose over the magenta waters of The Tithe river.