DeadLife Standstill, Part 8

As the moon and sun traded places the next morning, the blue-eyed matriarch looked around her quarters. It was quiet because the girls were gone.

She felt anxious. It had been years since she felt this anxious, long before she was a warrior or matriarch or War God lover.

She had learned to always travel light so her hands and body were free to fight. So it didn’t surprise her at all how so many moon cycles had passed and she had collected so few mementos compared to other townswomen.

She did have the union furs her brown-eyed outlander had given her the night they came together at the lake.

She also had the two dedication gowns for her blue-eyed daughters; although she followed the War God and dedication could only be given by an adult after the first moon cycle, she knew that she might have to foster them with Goddess of Peace followers, so she chose to follow that custom. No one liked or appreciated it, but it was her duty to ensure they would be okay if she failed in battle.

It was foolish, but she’d also kept a small wooden plaque that was given by an old teacher at her failed first union. After that union dissolved, it had hurt to see the plaque, but the old teacher was a beloved creator of art and music. Art and music often were better medicine, so she kept the plaque. Eventually, the pain dissolved.

Her younger daughter had a few scrolls because she always had a scroll plastered to her nose. She also had a reed flute and a strange shiny music pipe. The older daughter just had a small pouch filled with little pictures drawn by the towns children in the classes at the Temple of Peace.

Her eyes welled up with tears. She pulled all the items together into one large knapsack and set it by the door. The matriarchs didn’t say she couldn’t take a bit with her.

She looked around her quarters. They weren’t home any longer.

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