SNEAK PEEK!
Nirel & Abigail: Best Friends
Abigail and I raced into the woods behind my family’s apothecary, first passing the herb garden and then the berry bushes on the edge of our property. She struggled to keep up with me. She only reached my shoulders when we stood side by side, and my height offered an unfair advantage in running.
“Let me come!” Warren shrieked, attempting to catch up.
“Go play with William or Derrick!” I yelled over my shoulder.
“I want to be with you!”
For a brief moment, I considered letting him join us, but he’d end up getting dirty or hurt. He had a horrible habit of not seeing danger. Father had to set his broken arm last year when he ran into a tree at a bad angle.
Besides, he had plenty of friends to climb trees or play hide-and-find with. I was ten years of age, and Abigail was nine, though she’d catch up in a couple months. I loved Warren dearly, but wanted time alone with my friend. We needed moments where we laughed and told each other secrets with no extra ears listening.
“Nirel!” He whined in the heart-wrenching way only my seven-year-old brother could.
I did not slow down, but I glanced back again to see that he’d stopped and crossed his arms.
Abigail stumbled over a large mossy root, and I reduced my speed. Her red curls held white petals from the shedding trees as we escaped. My best friend was so beautiful. I’d have been jealous if I didn’t adore her so much.
She had three younger sisters, and while she didn’t understand the frustration male siblings wrought, she still understood being the oldest. Perhaps she’d have a brother next time since her mother just confided to mine that she needed a ginger tonic for morning sickness.
Abigail and I slowed to a fast walk, but our green apron dresses caught on the undergrowth a few times. I had to unhook my friend’s skirt from a long, sharp thorn.
We soon reached our favorite place, a creek about a quarter mile west of the village. If we’d let my brother come, he’d have gotten himself soaked, to my mom’s chagrin. I pulled off my shoes, hiked up my dress and shift in the most immodest manner, and stepped into the freezing stream. I shrieked as the chill made gooseflesh creep up my skin.
“Miss Neydelin!” Abigail scolded with a mischievous grin. “I can see your ankles!”
I doubled over with laughter at her perfect imitation of Priestess Madeline.
She held up her clothes and joined me, hissing at the ice cold water. Father explained once that the brook was fed by melting snow in the north.
My friend and I explored further into the shallow creek, balancing on smooth stones and looking for tiny silver fish.
“We can’t stay too long,” Abigail said as she gazed up at the clear sky wistfully. “Mama told me to be back in an hour to help with dinner prep.”
I nodded. We were over half grown, and our parents wanted us to take over their responsibilities in the future. While we weren’t apprentices until we reached fourteen years old, they prepared us for adult life now.
“I’ll be helping mom forage this evening, and dad said he wants me to memorize human bone structure.”
Abigail grimaced. “I’m memorizing recipes, but learning about body parts sounds…” she paused with a frown.
“Gross?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s just like studying chickens. What to feed them, how to kill them, and what bits go in broth or meat pies. The main difference is we’re fixing people instead of eating them.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Only you would compare cooking to physician work.”
I held back a laugh, even though I thought the comparison made sense. Dad said I’m good at remembering information and explaining it in ways others could understand. He’d started teaching me Old Laevini so I could eventually read his medical texts.
“Perhaps we should practice our penmanship after dinner? You can write tomorrow’s menu and I’ll try to make my letters smaller for the bottle labels.”
Abigail pushed a few wayward curls behind her ears. “Sure. Let me ask my mom. She might need me to mop the dining area again.”
“I wish we were sisters,” I blurted, not for the first time. If we lived in the same house, we would do our work together instead of her assisting with the inn and me in the apothecary.
Abigail reached out and took my hand. Her cool, pale fingers squeezed.
“Friends are the family you choose. That’s what mama says.”
A glowing feeling filled my chest. “Promise we’ll always pick each other?”
“I promise.”
This is so sweet 😭💛