Normal.
Whenever she thought about that word, a larger then life mental image of her brown and boxlike father appeared. Normal was boring, when applied to the mental definition, and woefully out of touch with the 'real' world as the young teen's mind saw it. Never would such a man seek beyond the happy little life he had carved for himself for something extraordinary, because by the very break down of words... extraordinary was extra ordinary. Beyond ordinary, and thus something other then normal.
And for Allende's father, other then normal was weird.
Sure he never said as much, and in her happier moments she could even say he wasn't quite as hide bound as she usually claimed. But her overly emotional teenage tantrums trumped happy rational thought most days, so most of the time she just endured her father's ordinary policies behind a wall of morose silence. Mundane though they may be, even at her hormonal worst, Alle would admit that her father was an extremely fair taskmaster. Tall as she was, he never overburdened her with chores or demanded things that were beyond her capabilities. Of all her siblings, she supposed she was one of the few who actually recognized that facet of their mutual sire. Traditional Allegon may be, but a tyrant he was most certainly not. Her chores started early and consisted of helping her mother set food for the day, salting preserves, minor housekeeping, and finally tending some of the hold livestock. Her older brothers all assisted their father in the family trade (woodsmithing) so she was never had to deal with them except at mealtimes or when they fell ill. Today had started a little differently from the usual, but it wasn't so different that Allende was roused from her early morning apathy. Afterall, even Traders and Weyrwomen hated to make numbweed... and they had all the freedom in the world!
A sudden hiss of escaping steam drew Allende from her revelry violently. The big kettle in front of her was rocking wildly on its peg, threatening to tip and spill its contents all across the fire pit Alle had prepared the day before. Hastily reaching for it, she realized too late that she wasn't wearing the protective gloves as she grasped the heated handle of the black kettle. The scorching metal burned her skin almost immediately, despite how quickly she pulled away, and she couldn't help the scream of pain as she flung herself back from the fire, hands clenched to her chest.
It all happened to fast after that. Her mother, tending a similar pot, spun around at her cry and abandoned her charge to see what happened. Endee hadn't been a mother of five for nothing, so to be caught unprepared for all sorts of wounds when it came to daily life was practically unheard of. She wasted no time in forcing Allende to show her the burns. Chastising the girl could wait until the flesh was neatly bandaged, and the fire pits were far enough away from the hold that leaving these two untended for the time it took to settle the girl wouldn't end in a catastrophe. The boys would be in shortly, and the small portly woman had enough faith in her offspring to assure her that one of them would take care of the kettles if this took longer then expected.
As for Allende, she could barely suppress the cries of agony as she was guided to the cothold and into her own room. Her mother had grasped one of her hands too hard, and the pain from the burns radiated sharply up her arm and across her shoulders. She didn't need to look to know that her skin was bubbled and bleeding since she could feel everything, but her mother's methodical silence unnerved her more then the pain. She'd seen her mother in situations like this before, they were a woods hold after all, and limbs often came apart from one's body in craft work like theirs, but she had never seen the detached serenity directed at her before. Her mother may have never been the essence of matronly warmth as her children aged, but this was feeling a little too much like she were a foolish apprentice who deserved everything she was being treated for!
But then, the feeling dissipated.
Blinking, Alle stared at her mother, wondering what had changed, until she heard the soft melody. Their eyes never met, but the quiet child's lullaby made it seem as if she wee five again, being rocked too sleep while her mother removed a thorn from her foot or nursed her through a fever. It was such a mental relief the pain ebbed just a smidgen so she could regain control of her voice and whisper a hoarse thank you before her mother finished treating her. The song paused long enough for the homemaker to smile at her daughter, before she lay a cool palm against her forehead and urged her to lay back. "I'll get something for you to drink that will help you sleep, bear with it for a moment." But she never waited for Alle's nod, and was instead gone before she could utter another word, and back before she could be missed.
By that point, the momentary mental relaxation had faded and the pain was back in agony. This time not even her mother's singing could rouse her from it, so the small woman held the fellis laced cup of wine to her daughters lips and forced her to drink it until it was gone, and the girl had finally faded off into a fitful sleep.
