The NameMature

“Small wrists,” Lorna proclaimed as she finished inspecting the girl. She waved her arm around, showing it to her husband who sat opposite, waiting for the verdict. “She probably hasn’t done a full day’s work in her life!”
“But I am willing to work!” The young girl exclaimed, snatching back her arm and reaching for the butcher’s knife which lay on the wooden table. “I will chop at any meat you bring me!”

Rob laughed behind his callous hand. The girl’s personality had awoken after he had offered her a meal and water. She was a fighter, and he had no doubt that she would work hard. Whatever plights she had battled before meeting him had left her mentally scarred and physically fatigued, yet she was still willing to work for her keep. With no memories of her childhood or of her identity, she retained only one flame which was still burning bright. The flame of survival.

But he couldn’t act as if he didn’t understand his wife’s refusal. They were barely able to feed their own mouths yet alone take another. Nevertheless, he hoped with all his heart that his wife could see what he saw when he saw the young girl: hope.

His wife looked as if she had been slightly moved by the girl’s persistence to work, and she liked the youthfulness the young girl brought to their little home. It had been such a long time since a youth stayed in their home, ever since their son was forced to enrol in the army and their daughter died of illness four years ago. She would have liked the company of a young girl in the home, perhaps braiding her hair or dressing her in her daughter’s old clothing which she kept upstairs.

She cleared her throat. “We’ll give her a trial period. If the girl can‘t keep up, she‘ll have to find shelter somewhere else. We‘re not an inn.”
Rob smiled, he knew his wife had softened to the girl like he had.
“Let’s have something to eat Lorna. We should have a feast to celebrate the entrance of our new border!” He exclaimed, slamming his large hands on the table.
“You’ll eat this house right into a famine. Look at your belly-” His wife mockingly patted his stomach, “I always thought I’d be the pregnant one!”
They all broke into laughter.
“Now, if-” She looked at the girl. “What should we call her?”
Her husband shrugged. “Has been many moons since I have named a child. I fear I’ll give her something tasteless in the face of the others.”
“A name is a name, not a trend!” Lorna proclaimed. “How about something to honour her Greatness Selinia III?”
Rob leant back on his chair and assessed the young girl. Was he really willing to brand the child with the name of a Chartan legend?
“Selinia…” The name rolled on his tongue. Lingering. The name of a God. It suited her- it was calling out for her.

The End

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