Childhood in Raeburn

Seraphina opened her eyes. It was still dark, the air cool and heavy. Sleep would not return, so she threw back her blanket and shivered at the bite of morning. She cupped her hands and breathed into them before stealing across the floor. Her fingers found her father's cloak, broad and coarse and she wrapped it tightly about herself. Her parents still slept.

The door creaked as she eased it open, and she slipped into the yard. At once her foot struck a chicken, which flapped and shrieked in outrage. Seraphina stumbled, muttered a curse, and hurried on up the narrow path before it could wake the whole hamlet. She hated how clumsy she could be, never quiet even when she tried.

She climbed the slope above Raeburn until the rooftops and thatched barns lay beneath her. There she sat, waiting for the sky to turn from black to pale grey, then to soft rose and gold. She loved this hour of silence, when the world seemed to belong only to her.

When she returned home, her father was already awake, warming his hands by the fire. His eyes caught on the cloak wrapped around her shoulders.
"Strange," he said, raising a brow, "I thought I left that by my bed. Perhaps I would be at the stables already if a thief had not stolen it."
Seraphina smiled sheepishly. "It is warmer than mine."
"Then finish mending yours," Hammond replied, though the stern tone faltered against the grin tugging at his mouth.
Darea, her mother, shook her head as she set bread on the table. "She must learn responsibility. A girl should be weaving, not skulking about in the cold. Look at that cloak—ruined already—and who must mend it? Not I. It is time she pulled her weight, both here and at the stables."

Hammond leaned across and kissed his wife's cheek, his great shoulders filling the little hut. He was tall and broad, his deep voice commanding to others, but to Seraphina he was only safety. He winked at her.
"Do your chores and then come to me. I have something to show you."

By late morning Seraphina had ground grain at the stone and fetched water until her arms ached. When her mother finally released her, she hurried along the path to the stables, heart quickening. Hammond was waiting. He lifted her in his strong arms and spun her before setting her down again.

"Come," he said. "A new life has come to us."

Inside the stables the air smelled of hay and earth. Near the corner a mare lay, her flanks damp, and beside her a small brown foal struggled to its unsteady legs. Seraphina gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth. She had never seen a creature born before. The foal trembled, then stretched its neck and nuzzled at its mother's side. Something leapt in Seraphina's chest, fierce and sudden. Here was freedom fragile, wild, unbroken. She wanted it for herself.