She always gets a sense of familiarity when she and her father stand at the front door before she leaves for the reaping. While 7 certainly wasn't the poorest district, it was still a blessing they got real bread loafs in the summer.Īfter they ate a silent meal, Sabille got up to clear their dishes. She cut up the last of their bread loaf and set the table as best she could. She mashed up some berries that had not quite gone rotten to mix in with their Tessera, it made it easier to go down. She leaned against the wooden counter, running her hands through her hair in an attempt to calm her nerves, as much as she tried to ignore her fear. So instead she just nodded and headed back upstairs into the kitchen. She didn't want to think about it much, maybe thinking about it made it worse. Sabille hoped he didn't say anything about the reaping. No I was going to wait for you" He offered. He set down his papers and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes before standing up. "Dad?" He looked up at her "Have you eaten?" she asked. She worries he won't be able to keep the shop going. she sees the ways his hands shake, how easily he gets tired. He started the shop once his back couldn't take the strain anymore. He hadn't worked in the lumber yards in years, although she knows he used to. Sabille had noticed the way her dad has been over the last year. Probably either an inventory list, orders or bills. He's there, sitting at the little cluttered desk, reading glasses peached on his nose, reading some papers. It's mostly used for inventory but also doubles as her father's office. She headed down the stairs that lead into the little room that separates them from the open shop. She stepped out into the little hallway of their upper level and saw her fathers door was open and his room was empty. They can't afford for her to take any time off. She told herself to stay off it until her next shift in the yard.
Another thing she'd become accustomed to. Her shoulder is aching a little bit but she barely notices. It's cold in her room so she doesn't bother putting her hair up. She peeked out the window to the sundial in the courtyard and saw she had an hour before it's time. She gets dressed and washes her face in the bucket of water next to her mirror. She tried not to dwell on emotions today. But she guessed doing it herself made her think of her mom on days like the reaping. It's not like dressing up for a celebration of any kind, the way her mother used to do for her when she was little. She laid out clothes for the day when she got home from Briar's last night. Not a chirp from the shop downstairs, it made her stomach feel hollow. It was almost comforting, reminding her that she was home.īut there was no noise today. She'd lie there, trying to talk herself out of her blankets listening to the rubbing of the whetstone, the smell of beeswax and honing oil. Like clockwork, her mind would drift into reality with the sound of a bastard file grinding against the bit on an axe. Usually It's the sound of steel grinding that wakes Sabille up every morning.