Golden Box Book Publishing GBBP Magazine, June, 2017 | Page 57
“Okay, here it goes.”
Aisa, unaware of her fate, gave her horse a gentle squeeze
with her knees, to run faster. Willow zigzagged between the jurtas
that were lined up in a semicircle, leaving a broad plaza in the
middle. Aisa glanced up at the tall wooden pole that stood in the
center of the square. It had intricate designs carved into it and was
painted with brilliant colors. On top of it was a giant carved
falcon, standing with wings open wide, as if it was getting ready
to take flight. Oh, I’m so late; my mother is going to kill me, she
thought, and prompted her horse to run faster. An old woman who
was carrying firewood stopped and shook her head in disapproval.
“These youngsters are riding like demons,” she mumbled, looking
after Aisa.
Aisa reached her home. She slid off the mare’s back in a hurry
and fastened the horse’s rein to a wooden pole. Her breaths came
in short puffs, and her rosy cheeks glistened with perspiration. She
patted the horse’s neck, gave her an armful of hay, and poured
fresh water from a leather bag that hung on the pole into a clay
bowl. She whispered, “I have to hurry, but I’ll be back soon,
Willow, promise.”
She hurried up to the entrance of the tent-like building, called
Jurta, with a few long strides. She parted her kaftan-like dark blue
overcoat, pulled up her baggy trousers, and smoothed over it her
white tunic that her mother had adorned with delicate flower
designs. Aisa pulled the leather entrance cover aside with a heavy
sigh, and she braced herself mentally for the long lecture that she
knew she must endure.
As usual, she was late for her herbal lessons with her mother,
a beautiful, statuesque, dark-haired woman who slowly rose from
a curved sofa-like piece of furniture. Soft light coming from the
opening at the ceiling shone on her green, delicately-decorated
calf-length tunic that she wore with loose black trousers. Her hair
was braided with thin leather thongs and hugged her shoulders.
Aisa took off her boots and placed them by the entrance. She
winced when Mara’s high-pitched, angry voice hit her like a whip.
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