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A cool, fresh wind blew through the air. Her red, hip length curls fluttered quietly in the wind, the scent of newly grown watermelon tantalizing her senses. Slowly dying grass folds under her bare feet, she almost never wore slippers and as such, had rougher feet than most women. Lifting her skirt slightly from the ground, she quickened her pace a little, heading towards the kitchen dinning room of her home. Her feet touched cool slabs of stone and marble lain in intricate patterns to serve as the home's floor. She passes down the way to hear laughing of her mother and father coming from ahead.

She stops to listen, a soft smile upon her lips and her eyes fall to the portrait of her parents. Her mother was beautiful in this painting; everyone swore it was their favorite one. Her mother wore a simply soft, pink gown, her emerald eyes shining almost realistically with the light flowing through her bright auburn hair. Her father held her mother close, his right arm around her waist, her mother pulling his hand to rest between her breasts while both of her hands held his one. He was a whole two heads taller than her, and was a good seventeen years older than her, but no one could find a sweeter, more gentle couple. This picture had been painted when her mother had first learned she was with child with her son and the two were most certainly lit up.

The couple sat before a widow on a chaise lounge, sunlight streaming all in with the early morning. The artist even caught the outside garden in much detail... She averted her eyes as she heard a dish crash, that was right; her mother was waiting for her. She heard her father scramble to pick up whatever it was that had fallen and the two laughed again; this was life. She glanced around the doorway of the dinning room, just catching her father and mother standing at the far end of the room in a deep kiss. A warming heat rose to her cheeks and she looked to the ground, standing out of their sight and staring at the design of the flooring.

Large, warm hands slid onto her hips, pulling her close to a tall, warm body. It was him. She could feel his breathing against her neck as he inhaled her scent, his lips touching her soft skin. Shivers melted throughout her entire spine as his right hand slid onto her abdomen, then down, right above her womanhood, just barely pulling her close enough so she could feel his heartbeat throbbing gently against her back. She felt herself becoming flustered, but silence caught her tongue and she stood there and looked up to him, his red brown wavy hair falling before his face, complimenting his velvet emerald eyes. Those were their mother's eyes.

Helpless, she let herself melt in his arms as she closed her eyes, the melody of his pulse calling to her own. She heard someone call her name and upon opening her eyes, he was gone. Dazed, she'd expected him to be there, telling their mother they would be there in a minute, taking her away to the forest to... What was wrong with her? She scolded herself immensely; she'd been leaning against the wall, daydreaming about her brother again. Her heart wrenched in her chest; she couldn't explain why she felt this way.

Her feet began walking, as her mind stayed in the hallway. Her eyes scanned the dinning room to see everyone standing around, except her brother, who was sitting already, snatching bits of fruit to munch on while he waited. Mother swatted away his hand, telling her to come sit down for their meal. She listened obediently, sitting across from her sibling and staring at her plate absently as her mother served everyone. Halfway through eating, everyone was in a cheerful spirit, chatting away about much of nothing most of the time, but father had said something about making a trip into town. It took a third of a day to get there by horse and carriage, but he'd said he'd only needed to buy a few things and so the whole family could go.

Her heart lightened; going to town was indeed a pleasant treat for everyone, but, she thought, what if father found her a suitor? Suddenly the thought of town sounded less pleasing, even if her father hadn't mentioned it; she was certainly ready to be married at the age of fifteen, like her mother was. Something cold hit her forehead; her brother launched a grape at her. He launched a grape at her. She glowered at him and threw the other half of a strawberry she'd bitten at him. Their mother scolded them, but her brother only laughed.

She loved that laugh, so strong, yet so light and low, unlike a few years back when it squeaked every time he spoke. Mother kept talking; she had an announcement to make: she was pregnant again; they were expecting a third child to the family. At thirty-three, their mother was as beautiful as the day she married their father, with her unusually dark skin, unlike their pale father. He'd aged less gracefully, definitely looking about fifty, but their mother still loved him the same, if not more, than the day they were wed. In any case, another addition was well welcomed... Though she thought it would change her life little.

Was it so wrong that the birth of another child affected her so little? She loved her family more than most, but an addition, though still family, was no big extreme to her. She took a bite of her cinnamon roll, followed it down with some cider. Her father was ecstatic and pulled her into a hug, kissing her all over. Her brother laughed, clapping his hands at his father's over-emotion. She hoped that, whatever happened, it was a little sister, so she could braid her hair, tell her stories, show her how to wear a corset.

All she really wanted was...well, she had everything she really wanted...mostly. She took another bite out of her cinnamon roll as the frosting dripped sloppily onto her plate. Finishing it, she proceeded to lick it off of her fingers, slowly, because it didn't like to come off. Beyond her hand, she saw him, her brother, watching her indiscreetly, slowly taking a bite of his watermelon. Now this she wasn't imagining, so she stopped in a half lick, staring back at him. Their parents were laughing playfully as her father chased her mother while she attempted to clean up her plate.

Mother and father ran into the kitchen, almost knocking something over again, but he was still looking at her. She stared him down, asked him why he was watching her, but he only smiled, saying it was nothing, referring to her as 'kid sister' and stood to clear his plate. She heard someone call her name, she blinked, but her was still standing there, looking at her. Her mother asked her to bring in her dishes when she finished. She stood, gathering plates, his eyes following her, only slightly menacingly, as he helped her to clean. Their parents walked into the room, smiling broadly, asking the children to do the dishes.

He averted his eyes from her, acting perfectly fine as they obliged them. She knew she hadn't imagined it...but what if she was confronted? What would she do or say then? Would she suddenly be forced to make decisions every woman would eventually have to make? Her heart felt clutched in demonic hands as she realized she would not be ready for him, and she was ashamed. If he wanted her, she would certainly surrender herself to him, she decided, ready or not.

Finches twittered outside of the kitchen window near a tall birch tree and the orange tabby cat of the farm sat on the window sill, tail flipping back in forth as it contemplated pouncing a few. The summer sun was just warming up, and the garden outside smelled of fresh produces. In the silence of nature, the two washed the dishes in the sink basin, taking the extra food and placing it in a bucket for the pigs. He washed, she dried, the cat twitched and the house was still; it was all unnerving. Lost in her irritated thoughts, she felt warm water splash her and she squeaked. She glared over at her older sibling, splashing him back, complaining that she'd just dried all of those dishes...

He shrugged, splashing her again and she dipped an overly large bowl in the sink, threatening to dump it over his head. He told her to do it; it would mix with all of the excess flour on the floor and mother would make them clean up the horrible paste that would become of it. He smiled, she pouted, the cat got ready to pounce, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Next thing she knew, she was wrestling her brother on the floor, the two completely covered in floury paste, panting heavy until finally, he pinned her, laughing that he won, and would always win, because she'd always be smaller than he was. Fighting the urge to try and pull him closer, she struggled with him while he just watched, claiming she'd never escape. Never escape...she didn't want to escape.

A finch fluttered lazily before the cat, catching its attention, almost going so far as to bat it in the face with its wings. Somewhere outside a horse whinnied, a soft breeze catching its mane and tail as it pranced around playfully. Some of their dogs ran out in a field somewhere to help protect their cows, barking at a possible threat in the woods. By now, the sun was warming everything up, and all of the house staff would stay gone until tomorrow morning. The tabby growled lightly at the finch, and pounced up from it's spot not so gracefully, but the bird, quite aware of its situation, flew out of the way, and the tabby flailed in the air as it fell; the kitchen window stood over a steep decent next to the garden and the cat misaimed. It meowed something fierce when it landed on the hill and rolled into a shallow river behind the house.

Her brother saw this from the corner of his eye, laughing at it, telling her that if she cared for it, she should go make sure it was all right. He said he'd clean the floor for her, as if he hadn't goaded her to mess it in the first place, and grabbed a bucket of water and a mop rag. She felt as if she'd missed something, but, wait, the tabby had fallen...? Oh no, she worried, and flew out of the room, out of the house, around the garden out back and down to the river. There, she found the poor animal soaked, coughing, and cleaning itself in the sunlight. She calmed down upon seeing it was fine, and looked to the river.

The river's gentle splashing coaxed her to it and she thought now would be the perfect time to jump right in; she was dirty as all hell, so why shouldn't she? Walking up the river, one of their dogs followed her, wagging his tail as he licked the pasty substance from her hand. Smiling, reached an area of the river out of sight from the house, and walked straight into the water, watching as the flour began to flow downstream and her dog chased a duck; there was a pond or two not too far from here. She slipped off her overskirt, rinsing it off and throwing it on shore, then attempted to untie her corset, but the paste had stuck to it somewhat determinedly, causing her fingers to slip while pulling at the knot. Frustrated, she splashed the water, and a gentle voice greeted her; it wasn't her brother. It was a young man, around his age, which had ridden up to her on a horse, and she screamed.

The young man apologized immensely, covering his eyes, saying her did not realize she was bathing and that he would leave her alone. He said he was simply looking for direction into town when he stumbled upon the back half of this farm, thinking to look for the house. He was lost for half a day until he saw her, and apologized once more. She stared at him. He looked a bit too fancy to be here, but she didn't feel threatened, so she kept fiddling with her laces. Hopping off of his horse, he slowly approached her, eyes covered, asking gently if he could help her.

With apprehending eyes, she agreed, and he began to untie the knot with his free hand. He explained jokingly that he was a "Master Knot-tier" and knew very well the trouble they brought. In no time it was undone, and he washed his hands in the river. She thanked him, looking to this curious person and pointed up the river, telling him which way town was. He thanked her, heading towards the main road, and was gone. She stood there, for quite some time, holding her corset closed, watching where he'd went.

When her brother finally approached her, she was a bit startled, making him laugh as she jumped so hard... Here she was, still covered in dried paste from the waist up and he'd cleaned the floor and himself in that time. He told her to finish cleaning up because there were the chores to do since the staff was gone and she nodded, but who was that man? Besides that, why was he out here? His accent was so different, so...new. She shook it off; she was unaware that she now had another fantasy.

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