Role

Chapter 8

Side to side, side to side, up and down, up and down, rittle, rattle. The
sounds that awoke Erelia every morning pervaded the air as always, being
followed by a crisp scent of smoked meat. Her father's wagon, though old, had
always been faithful. Her mother and father had been traveling for ages now,
it seemed. Always the same rittle rattle as an awakening. Always the same
cheap meat father used as the first scent in morning. No dew, no flowers, no
perfumes; That meat always seemed to overcome such beauties. Even if they
could have afforded it, her father wouldn't have liked the perfume. It was of
a slightly wealthier taste, and that disgusted him. Traveling, trading goods,
and traveling again. It seemed that she'd grow wrinkles before this ever
ended. Her mother, though, hoped for more, that one day they could sell the
wagon and settle down in the plains after they made enough coin to live
comfortably. Sadly, no lucky break into wealth seemed in sight, as father
always sold to the same people for the same average prices. Though the
lifestyle was boring, Erelia was able to see many a thing. She experienced
deserts, cities, forests, castles, and even camp-sites. "No matter how boring
it is, I should be appreciative towards father", she always thought. Making
points to act kindly and cheerfully whenever in different parts of the world,
always trying to make friends. Lately, as she grew into more of a woman than
a child, she had taken up flute playing. The soft sounds of airy elegance
would weave through the percussion of the wagon, notes fusing with the
rattles and clunks of each step, forming an entire symphony in her head. What
fun this would be as a career, she imagined.