Lys: Comes the Dawn

She was ill again. Every morning she was ill, to some extent. The moment she squinted her eyes open into the sun she knew this would be a bad one. She moved her head ever so slightly, and the whole world spun sideways. Apples, she knew, would help, but it was ridiculous trying to get anything like an apple where she was.
Where was she? About to go on the auction block again. She dragged herself up to a half sitting position and nearly lost what little was in her stomach. Only a little longer. If they would let her alone until mid-morning, she would do them proud. If only they would let her alone...

She raised dull lids and caught sight of her reflection in a copper pot hanging nearby. Crom's toes. she thought. I look like one of /them/. Them being the women on the other side of the room. They weren't required to know much about a household. Thank heaven she had been spared that. In that way, if in no other, her illness worked for her.

She was a long way from the almost-bride of fifteen that she once was. A long way from the green hills of Ibernia.

She was well and truly Scotti. "Scuit." she said aloud. "Cast out. A woman cut off."

She laid her head back and closed her eyes. In a few moments they would come for her, and the less she did now, the better she would feel later.