Sacrifice

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 4th March 2014

Characters: Vell
Description: Vell comes to a decision
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 5, day 9 of Turn 7
Notes: Follows Refuge

Night had fallen with characteristic swiftness, going from lengthening shadows and a warm gold glow to the sun to a star-speckled sky within what seemed like moments. Vell sat by the small fire she'd lit by the entrance to the cot, combing through her long hair with her fingers and staring into the flames. The cot meant a roof over her head but she wasn't entirely sure that it was free of tunnelsnakes or spinners, and it also seemed somehow dirtier inside than sitting amid the grass and shadows. Itch grazed just beyond the circle of light, his hide gleaming after a thorough brush just as the sun had set.

The journey so far had been... hard. And long, much longer than she'd anticipated. The road was a crawling line on a map but somehow became so much longer when her feet followed it instead of her fingertip. Emerald Falls was unimaginably far away. And the Sea of Azov... it would be huge. Terrifying.

And _that_ assumed that she'd ever get there. The nebulous threat that was bandits, injury, or even starvation was suddenly very real. She was beginning to realize that life and Harper tales were different.

If this were a tale... Vell sighed and lay back in the soft grass to stare at the stars. She hurt too much for it to be a tale. And she was too scared. Those bandits... they would have done much worse than rob her. It wasn't safe for a woman on the road.

But there was no going back now. Her father would be furious. Vell felt a pang of guilt. Her absence must be terrible for them. **I'll send a message home once I find a boat to take me across the Sea of Azov,** she thought. **To let them know that I am all right.**

And tomorrow was Threadfall, her first spent beyond the shelter of stone walls. The dragonmen knew their duty and this jungle was proof of it-- but Thread overhead still scared her. Afterwards the Searchriders would come, and they weren't as likely to be fooled the way the handsome brownrider had been.

So... a disguise then. Her men's clothing for certain, but that was no guarantee. Vell swallowed and ran her hands through her beautiful long hair.

Her hair... it had to go. Tears pricked at her eyes again as she sat up and reached for her knife. Vell knew she was plain, and she wasn't as... womanly as some. But her hair, her long, red-brown hair... no matter how poor a woman was, she always had her hair to adorn her. So said her mother.

The knife flashed red in the firelight as she gathered her hair into her fist and began to saw at it. The strands split slowly, and with a grimace she drew the knife all the way through. Her cropped hair fell in a ragged curtain that brushed her chin and her head felt unbalanced and light. Her hair lay in a tail in her hand, which shook. Vell was suddenly very glad that she didn't have a mirror. **I look like a boy,** she thought.

Yarron had loved her hair. The firelight wavered as she threw the handful of hair into the fire. It sizzled and started to burn, stinking up her little clearing. Vell wrinkled her nose and told herself it was for the best. She'd be safer. But would her husband recognize her?

Idly she took the knife to the ragged ends of her hair and started trying to even them out, hating that she was making a mess of the mess she'd already made. Yarron had to recognize her. He _would_. After all she'd sacrificed, after all she'd faced, after worrying her family and getting chased by bandits and starving and cutting her hair alone in the ruins of a Plague-cursed cot, he'd recognize her. There was no greater way that she could show that she loved him.

If he didn't recognize her, or worse, didn't love her anymore... that wasn't a thought she could bear.

Last updated on the March 6th 2014

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Sacrifice