Yup another work in progress.  I have over 150 of them after all and who knows when they will be finished. But this one is my science fiction novel that I will hopefully finish some time in the next year.

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The Price of Freedom

 

The sisters all ran, each in a different direction.  None of them wished to be caught, to be used to bring in the others or to become a belonging.  It would have been different if they had parents still.  If their mother had lived and father had not been killed and uncle hadn’t seen a way out of his troubles.  Money he owed could be overlooked, forgotten for the price of four lovely young girls, all unique in their looks and powers.

 

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They had all been born together, a rarity for the people.  Four tiny daughters brought forth from their mother’s womb with great pain.  One young father left with those daughters when his mate died.  He was a gentle, quiet man of the people.  He raised his daughters with love and understanding.  Never once did he blame the little girls for the loss of his mate.

 

The eldest, Druscilla, was the tallest and fast to anger.  She fought for the rights of her family, teaching those who tried to take advantage of them that she had hidden weapons that cut to the quick.  Her flame-red hair caught the attention of many but her fierce eyes made most males of the People nervous.  She was the leader of the sisters, often into trouble.

 

The next oldest, Chantrea, was the gentle one.  Her large, soft brown eyes captivated many of the young men their age.  She always had one of the small creatures about her.  She would care for the bird with the broken wing or the injured squirrel.   The three other sisters did their best to help her find training for her healing hands.  There was little money for a formal apprenticeship but the healer let her work with him as an assistant, teaching her when he could take time from his paying students.

 

The third sister, Tatum was the practical one.  Her black hair and green eyes were striking but more so was her sharp mind.  She schemed and plotted and helped her father keep her sisters fed.  When Druscilla’s temper got them all in trouble she would find a way to ease over the injured pride with wise words or a bribe if necessary.

 

The final sister was the wild one.  Where her oldest sister fought and grew angry quickly, little golden Arella was always running. She gloried in freedom and movement.  Always laughing, her eyes sparkled, her laughter was contagious.  She was fiercely protective of her sisters and father, loving with all her heart and rarely did she hold dark emotion.  Always she was willing to lend a hand when needed but rarely would she found doing those things that women were expected to do.  The tasks that were repetitive or slow were not for the wild child, though she could sit still if the task involved making beauty.  She had an eye for color and how they should be put together.

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