Well, last time I posted here I said there would be no reposting of the chapters. I'm here to tell you that I lied. Not intentionally. I had no idea the process of seriously reading and redrafting I would find myself with an almost complete change in directions. Oh, characters are still very much the same, but there are added twists and Trouble's father is no more. Well...you will have to read it. So here goes chapters 1 and 2.

Chapter 1

  Only an hour after Maeron had laid down the verdict, Aquila ran for her spot at the river once more.  She
had nowhere else to go.  

  Once she felt the cold sensation of water running across the tops of her feet she dropped her face into the
 folds of her tunic now bunched around her knees and cried.  She was silent, but she cried nonetheless.
 Maeron was heartless!  How could he?  Why?  

  There was no answer.  Nothing seemed logical to her.  They had done well in obeying his every command,
 for they knew from past experiences that he would show no reserve in punishing them if they did not.  So
why had he decided to banish them? 

  Aiden would fare well.  He, the oldest, was strong and capable.  For certain he had shown himself capable
of many things over the years as the protector of his eight younger siblings.  Taerith, as well, would do just fine.
  He was a man.  Men always had things they could do, places they could go.  Arnan fell in that category as
 well.  

  Even Sam would make it.  He was strong despite his young age and timid ways.  But what about his twin,
 Zoe?  Yes, Zoe would fare well.  She was independent, stubborn at times, and strong.  

  Daelia, Ilara, and Wren were all strong women.  Yet she shuddered at the thought of being left completely
alone.  Yes, she was by herself much of the time, but she always had someone to look up to for guidance if
 she ever needed it.  She had never been left to her own life with no one there to give even silent support.

  She knew a little of cooking, archery, and woodworking from various siblings but she was not a master
 at any.  She was small and inexperienced when it came to the ways of the world.  She had had no exposure
 to other people and something inside her feared them.  What if they were all like Maeron Duard: cynical,
 cruel, careless, and spiteful?  

  Aquila physically shook at the thought and determined to shy away from contact with the outside world
 as much as possible.  Looking up at the sky, Aquila sighed.  The sun was going down and she needed to
 return home before long.

  Standing, she sighed and bid a farewell to her favorite corner of the world.  That night, Aquila rolled up
into a ball in her bed and cried.  It would be her last for a very long time.

  Only an hour after curling up in bed, she threw back the covers with haste.  Just leave now, she thought to herself.  

  Why wait out the inevitable?  Leave now and avoid the sad farewell tidings of the others.  After packing
 a well worn leather drawstring bag with two extra pairs of clothes and necessities, she slipped into a dark
 brown tunic which she secured closer to her body by a rope belt.  Aquila slipped a small dagger into a leather
pouch which she fastened to her belt before donning her cloak and then crept through the shadows out of the
 room.  

  Darting as fast as she could for the cover of the stable to avoid being seen, Aquila slipped around the side
of the stable and through the rails of the corral.  Her small figure went unnoticed by the resident horses. 
Unnoticed by all but one, whose head came up.  

  Softly whispering to the gray mare to soothe the horse's nerves, she gently rubbed its neck.  The horse
 nudged her almost too hard and she stepped back to keep her balance.  “Ho, there friend!” Aquila squeaked.
 Moving back towards the stable the horse obediently followed.

  Once inside the stable and positioned in the back stall, Aquila quickly and smoothly bridled the horse and
 placed a roughly faded blanket over its back.  Then planting her feet a little more than shoulder's width apart,
she pulled the heavy saddle from its rack.  

  Aquila had saddled Tayla many a time, but it always took her a few times of trying to get the saddle
 high enough to go over her back.  She swung the saddle behind her slightly. “One...two...three!”  Throwing
 her weight into it she slung the saddle up but it did not quite make it.  Twice more she tried with no luck.

  Her breathing labored, she grunted to three and then attempted a fourth try.  This time it went over the
horse and she nearly fell forward under the horse's girth from the loss of weight to balance her out.
 Stopping herself short, she stood erect and quickly latched the saddle.  A small voice in her head reminded
 her that she had never successfully mounted a horse without aid.

  Nevertheless leading the horse out of the stable, she tried to throw her bag over the saddle so the strings
would latch onto the horn that had been crafted onto the top of the saddle specifically for her to hold on to
 but she overthrew so that the drawstrings missed the horn and it fell to the ground on the opposite side of
 the horse.  Tayla shied away from it and Aquila quickly grabbed at the horse's reigns to calm her.

  Someone picked up her things and began stuffing some of the things back into the bag. “Aiden!” Aquila
gasped out.

  “Do not worry, I will tie it on for you,” Aiden assured her.

  Aquila gently soothed the horse's nerves by caressing its strong neck.  When the task was complete,
 Aiden turned to her.  “Do you want a hand up?”

  Aquila nodded slowly and placed her small hand in his large one.  As his fingers closed in around her
 hand she felt a surge of confidence shoot through her uncertainty.  When Aquila was safely mounted, she
 looked at her older brother for the goodbye he had no doubt come to give.  “Thanks.”

  “You will make it, Aquila.  I have faith in you.”

  Aquila choked back the urge to cry.  She could not cry now.  Aiden had just said he had faith in her
and crying would defeat the spirit inside her that wanted to make him proud.  Would she really make it?  
She could only imagine being thrown from her horse should it be spooked by some small creature, a
ruthless man like Maeron finding her and domineering her life, or—Aquila nodded slowly to mask her
 tormented thoughts.

  “Say it,” Aiden commanded quietly.

  Her facade had not worked.  “I will make it.”

  “Deus guide you,” Aiden smiled in response.

  Determining to carry Aiden's strong faith with her, she picked up the reigns.  “Deus guide me and thee.”

                                                             ********

  Aiden's encouragement only lasted her as long as she was in the realms of her home. Once Tayla stepped
 onto unfamiliar territory on her trek northeastward, fear began to rise and she fought back the urge to turn
around and head back.  She would have to make this journey sooner or later.  Better sooner than later.

  Aquila's eyes darted from side to side, from the ground in front to the limbs of the trees that towered
 above her.  It felt like a million eyes were watching her.  Shivering in the cold night air, she pulled her cloak
 tighter around her shoulders, sinking further into the protective covering of the hood.

  The minutes stretched into hours, the hours into what seemed like eternity, as she slowly moved forward.  
Daylight could not have come sooner.

  When the sun peaked through the trees, Aquila sighed.  While she felt like she had already covered
 thousands of kilometers between her and her beloved home, she knew she had probably only gone 11
 kilometers.  Moments later the horse stepped out of the forest to open grasslands.  Aquila pulled the reigns
 back and stared wide-eyed at the expansive space of nothingness in front of her.  

  Forestland was all she had known.  No one had ever told her there was such a place as this.  How naïve
 she was!

  Spurring her horse on, she studied the landscape before her.  Brown grass.  That was all it was as far
 as the eye could see.  There was nothing appealing about it.  It grew almost to Tayla's belly.

  No trees poked up here or there once the forestlands had ended.  There was not even a green bush.
 It was brown and flat.

  For days Aquila traveled.  She would go north one day and east another, sometimes both.  A time or
 two she stopped to observe from a distance the activity of a town situated along her route. Yet not once
did she travel through but detoured around them.

  Then when she thought she would be lost in tall brown grass forever, she spotted in the distance the
 towering images of trees.  Aquila almost squealed with delight.

                                                             ********  

  Aquila shivered in the cold night air and for the hundredth time readjusted her cloak tighter around her
as Tayla slowly trudged on.  For three nights she had ridden straight through before she finally reached the
trees.  She had been quite happy when she reached them but now wondered if it might not be much warmer
 out in the open grasslands.

  Now she slowly pushed on, repeating over and over, "I will make it.  I will make it."  She did not really
 mean them, but for Aiden's sake, she said them.  It was supposed to be mid day but the limbs of the trees
 blocked out the light of the sun so that it seemed so much darker amidst the forest and lack of sleep was
 slowly taking its toll.  Aquila’s head nodded, her grip on the reigns loosened, and all of a sudden Aquila
was jolted awake as she tumbled off of the horse.  Her back landed on a root and Aquila cried out in pain.  

  Remaining motionless for a good few seconds, Aquila took several deep ragged breaths before looking
around.  There was a small knull in the base of a nearby Alte Bäume tree which would provide a sufficient
 hiding place for her to sleep in.  

  Aquila did not bother to stand.  She rolled over onto her hands and knees and crawled over the roots and
 soft dirt and into the safety of the tree.  Tayla vigilantly followed her mistress.  Suddenly thunder split the air
 and she looked up.  Apparently the trees were not the only thing blocking out the sun for she now noticed
 the dark grey clouds looming up above, now threatening to pour upon all the unsuspecting refugees beneath
 all that they contained.

  “My things!” Aquila half squealed, half moaned.  

  Forcing herself to move, she crawled underneath Tayla’s belly and undid the saddle.  Once that was
accomplished, she tugged on one side and it all slid off the side of the horse.  Tayla shied away from the
offending object and Aquila quickly patted her friend’s belly.  “Whoa there, Tayla.”

  Just as the rain began to fall Aquila retreated back into the hollow of the tree, dragging the saddle and
leather bag with her.  Lightening lit the air and thunder cracked overhead.  Almost as if on cue the trees
began sway.  

  Aquila curled up as far in the hollow as she could and rested her head on the saddle.  Her rest would be
 hard to come by like this.  Aquila had not had a moment of rest when she was pelted by rain.  Startled by
 the sudden discomfort, Aquila scowled at the trees above.  The wind had grown so fierce now that it blew
 the rain in at an angle.  She and all of her belongings with her would be drenched despite her efforts.

  For hours on end Aquila shivered in the wet rain attempting to get some sort of sleep but to no avail.  
When the torrent finally ceased, Aquila crawled out of the hollow and and squeezed as much of the water
 out of her cloak as possible.  Raising herself to her full height she took a step forward and then stumbled
 forward as her foot sunk into the mud.

  Aquila groaned as she pulled her muddy booted foot out of the muck.  “What next?”

  Suddenly something moved just under Tayla’s foot and the horse reared in fright.  Aquila lunged for the
 horse’s reins but she was too slow and Tayla bolted.

  “Oh you foolish beast!” Aquila yelled after it.

  “Silence, girl!”

  Aquila screamed and whirled around.  A slightly heavy set man dressed in a brown robe stood with one
hand against the tree, the other hidden inside his robe.  His hood concealed most of his face but Aquila could
 see his teeth clenched together amidst his graying unkempt beard, his shoulders rising and sinking quickly as
 he was either out of breath or in serious pain.  Probably both, Aquila surmised.  “Who are you?” her voice
 quivered in fear.

  “Nevermind who I am, all you need to know is that I am not here to harm you.  But there are men behind
 me who are trying to find me and kill me.  You must listen carefully—“ 

  “Men are trying to kill you?” Aquila gasped.

  “Yes, now be quiet and listen, there is not much time!” he hissed.  Then taking the hand out of his robe he
held out a small brown leather pouch.  “Take this and go northeast.  Run for your life.  When they find me
they will kill me but they do not know of you…for now.  Cover your trail and keep going.  There is an old
 man in an old mill that rests beside the Cloughlin river.  It lies seven kilometers downstream of the Cloughlin
 Falls.”

  “Who is he?”

  “No questions, girl, now go!” the man urged as he doubled over in what appeared to be pain.  

  Aquila did not have time or the capabilities to saddle Tayla quickly.  She quickly secured the brown pouch
 onto her belt, picked up her other bag of belongings and grabbed Tayla’s reins.  Leading her over to stand
 beside a root that protruded three feet above ground, she threw her arms around Tayla’s neck and then
 thrust her body on top of the horse’s.  

  Once she had the reins comfortably grasped, she kicked the horse into motion and shot for the northeast
corner of the world.  Only moments after she had left the man she was certain she heard him cry out but
she dared not look back or slow down.  

  Aquila did not know how long she had been running Tayla when she saw the trees open up.  Still confused
 and dazed with the cold that was setting in and the events that sent her running that she had no time to react
when her horse stumbled and fell, plunging her head long into the open grassy field.  Everything went black.

Chapter 2

  Above her was a high wood ceiling.  Aquila blinked and took several deep breaths as she looked around
 the room.  Two lamps hung on the wall on either side of the door six feet from her head that allowed enough
 light to see bookshelves all around the small room.  In the opposite corner, a brown robe-clad figure stood
with his back to her.  Concern flooded her mind.  She had been found by a stranger and was now helpless to
 defend herself if he turned out to be a foe.

  Aquila must have made a noise as the man suddenly turned around.  “Ah, I see our guest has awoken.  
If you will pardon me for one moment,” he bowed smiling kindly and left the room.

  Aquila picked her head up off of the flat hard surface and pulled back the thick warm blanket to look at
all of her limbs.  Everything seemed to be all in one piece.  Her ankle was wrapped in white cloth but other
 than that nothing seemed to be amiss.  Moments later the door opened again and a girl dressed in a black
robe walked in.  A black cloth concealed most of her blonde hair aside from a few stray wisps that rebelliously
stuck out at the sides of her temple.  "Good morning, my Lady."

  "Good morning," Aquila replied once she could find her voice.

  "I am Sister Marla.  I was on my way to say my prayers when I met Brother Thomas in the hall.  You
must forgive his abruptness.  The Brothers are not accustomed to guests.” 

  “Who are the ‘brothers?’  Where am I?” Aquila questioned.

  Sister Marla smiled.  “You are at what some people call a monastery, but for those who reside within its
walls it is called the Haven.”

  Aquila frowned.  She knew nothing of such things.  “What is a monastery?”

  Sister Marla looked at her perplexed.  “Why…have you never heard of a monastery, of monks, or nuns?”

  Aquila shook her head.  “I have lived…secluded from the rest of the world all my life.  I have heard of no
such thing.”

  “Oh dear.”  Sister Marla’s eyebrows furrowed as she stood there looking at her for a moment.  Then she
 drew up a chair and sat down.  “Well a monastery is where a group of men seclude themselves for the sole
 purpose of worshiping Deus, the Almighty.”

  Aquila looked puzzled.  “They do nothing else?”

  “Nothing else,” Sister Marla responded.  “I come from the convent, the monastery’s sister haven, if you will.
 The convent is home to a group of women who find their sole purpose in life is to do the work of the
 Almighty and worship him in singleness of heart.”

  “What brings you here?”

  Sister Marla smiled.  “We have a garden that grows certain foods that the monastery cannot grow and
 they have things that we cannot grow.  So once a week I come over here to bring some gifts in exchange
 for gifts from their garden.  The Brothers and we Sisters share a common bond in our fellowship with
Father Deus that we get along very well and oft times join together for Holy Communion on Sabbath day.” 

  Aquila nodded but said nothing.  It was all so strange.

  Sister Marla reached over and patted her hand.  “It’s a lot to take in.  But for now the monks want you
to know that you will be welcome here as long as you want to stay.  If you ever need food or water, let
them know.  Clothes they can also help with, although I am sure it is all old brown robes that smell of ,"
Sister Marla wrinkled her nose.  “They have you here at the moment, they only found you about an hour
 ago, but they are preparing a more comfortable bed for you in the back abbey where you will not be
 disturbed by anyone should you wish to seclude yourself for any amount of time.  They seem to know
nothing of women despite their exposure to we nuns.”

  "Thank you," Aquila smiled at her and then turned to the Brother Thomas who had only now returned
to the room.

  Brother Thomas nodded and smiled.  Sister Marla sat and talked with Aquila for a few minutes before
she begged her leave.  Brother Thomas, who had said hardly a word, followed her out and Aquila was left
to her thoughts.  

 Aquila looked up at the ceiling and tried to remember what had happened before she passed out.  She had
 been running from something.  A man in a mill…then it hit her.  Reaching just under the blanket she pulled
 the pouch from her belt.  Inside was a smaller red velvet pouch closed with a single pearl button.  

  Aquila fingered it for a moment before opening it up.  Inside was a small but heavy gold cross with a
 star-shaped emerald in the center of it.  She rubbed her thumb over the emerald and gaped at it.  It is so
beautiful.  Where could it possibly have come from?

  Just then the door opened and Aquila hid it in the folds of her skirt.  A monk appeared by her side with
 a bucket of water.  “Good evening,” he greeted.  “I am Brother Marklus.  Would you like a drink of water?”

  “Yes, please.”  Aquila lifted her head and accepted the cool drink of water he offered from a crudely
 crafted ladle.

  “We have a room prepared for you now.  If you will allow me, I will assist you down the hall.  I fear your
 ankle is not healthy enough to support itself,” Brother Marklus motioned towards her foot.  

  "Thank you, Brother Marklus, I would be deeply appreciative of your help," she said.  Aquila pulled the
 cross out of her skirt and fingered it for a few more seconds before putting it back in the velvet pouch and
 into the leather one at her side.  I wonder who’s cross this belongs to.  Who is the man at the mill?

  One week later, Aquila was dying of boredom.  When Brother Thomas came in to put fresh candles in
 the lamps, she asked, “Where do you get those candles?”

 Brother Thomas turned and smiled at her.  “We make them here.”

  “Could you teach me how to make them?” Aquila’s eyes widened in wonder.

  “Why certainly, my dear,” Brother Thomas’ eye sparkled.  “We shall start this afternoon.”

   Aquila hobbled down the hall that afternoon on a wooden stick one of the monks had fashioned for her
use only two days before, following Brother Shasmal, a jolly round fellow who always had a tune to whistle.
 He led her down a hall that turned this way and that past door after door after door until finally he opened
one and ushered her inside.

  Inside the dimly lit room, Aquila could see a long table in the center of the room, a wall of shelves covered
in candles of various sizes and lengths.  On the opposite side of the room was a big chimney with a blazing
 fire under a large cauldron.

  Brother Shasmal led her to the big cauldron.  “This, my dear, is where we make the wax and heat it until
 it’s boiling hot.  You then take a fair sized piece of twine, here,” he held up a length to demonstrate.  “And
then you dip it in the wax until just so.  You lift if out and count to ten and then dip it again.”

  “Why do you count to ten?” Aquila asked.

  “To allow the first layer of wax to cool so that a second layer will sit on top.  Now you try.”

  Aquila took the piece of twine and dipped it in the wax and then held it above the liquid.  “One, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”

  Down it went and back up.  It was growing and Aquila smiled with satisfaction.  Brother Shasmal smiled
 and clapped her on the shoulder.  “Very well, my dear.  Now when you are satisfied with its size then tie it
 to one of the hooks beside the mantle here and start with another.  I shall come back later and see how you
 are doing.”

  Aquila contentedly dipped, counted, and then dipped again until she was happy and then tied it to a hook. 
Then with the next.  She had gone most of the afternoon when she stepped back to survey her work and then
 cringed.  They were all rather ugly, misshapen, and poor looking.  While the candles on the shelves were
evenly from top to bottom, perfectly round, and flat across the top and bottom, hers were fat around the
bottom and thin around the top or vice versa.  The tops and bottoms were rather ragged and they generally
looked like blobs of nothing.

  Feeling quite perturbed, she sat down on a barrel next a big table that graced the middle of the room.
 Suddenly she felt very tired and exhausted.  It was time to call it a day.

  Just as Aquila was heading out of the room, Brother Shasmal walked up.  “I was just coming to check on
 you, dear.  How are things going?”

  “Not very good,” Aquila admitted.

  “Now now, they can’t be all that bad,” Brother Shasmal assured her as he stepped past her into the room.  

  Upon closer inspection, Brother Shasmal clucked his tongue and sighed.  “Well maybe candle making is
not your niche.”

  “My niche?”

  “Expertise, my dear.  Go along and rest for today, dear.  We shall find you something else to do tomorrow.”

  Aquila turned to leave and sighed as she heard him mutter no one in particular: “Now to fix this disaster…”

  The next morning a Brother Platimus greeted her for breakfast.  Aquila eyed the wiry man who could only
be about two inches taller than she as she nibbled on some fruit.  His gray hair indicated age despite his
youthful vigor.  

  “Good morning, Lady Aquila,” he smiled.  “Are you ready for a day in the washroom?”

  “Washroom?  Oh, I will only be a minute.  I am afraid I slept a little late this morning.”  Aquila quickly
choked down the rest of her fruit and grabbed her stick.

  “Oh no need to rush.  The laundry will not be going anywhere until we get there,” he chuckled.

  Aquila wiped the juices from her chin and smiled.  “I am ready.”

  Down the hall and out the back door they went.  Aquila breathed in the fresh air and almost squealed
with delight.  “It has been so long since I have been outside, this is wonderful!”

  “Our ‘room’ is a small shack down by the river.  You shall be able to leave the door open and enjoy the
 beauty of God’s nature while you work,” Brother Platimus told her.

  Aquila quickened her step to keep up with him.  He might only be two inches taller than her but he was
very spry and quick on his feet.  Only a moment later they were at the river’s edge and there lay the shack
 that was hardly as deep as Aquila was tall.  Inside sat a large washtub and washboard.

  Brother Platimus took a pitcher off a nail above his head and strode down to the river and drew some water.
 “It will take us some time to fill it enough to work in.”

  Aquila observed his several trips down to the river and back to the washtub until it was finally full enough to
work with.  Aquila dropped down behind the tub next to a basket piled high of brown robes and grabbed a
 bar of soap.  

  “I assume this needs no explanation.”  And with that, Brother Platimus was off.  

  Aquila just shrugged.  She did not mind working alone.  The shack was too small for two people to try and
work together and with the door open and the birds whistling she quite enjoyed her solitude.  The river’s music
 floated in as well and Aquila remembered her favorite spot back home.  

  In went a robe and the bar of soap, then draping it on the board she took the soap and scrubbed the clothes
with it, back and forth, up and down, side to side.  Then she flipped the robe over and did the other side. 
Once rinsed off she wrung it out and pulled herself up.  Aquila remembered the rope outside hung from the
 trees.  It most assuredly was for the use of drying the robes.  Over the rope it went and in went the next robe.  

  Time escaped Aquila and her thoughts were preoccupied with home and her simple carefree life at the
present moment that she hardly knew what she was doing at any given time.  When the basket was
completely empty, she stepped out of the shack to survey her work.  “Oh my!” 

  The sun could be seen shining through holes and rather threadbare robes hung along the rope.  Brother
Platimus arrived on the scene and stopped in his tracts.  “What happened?”

  “Were those not there before?” Aquila asked.

  “Of course not!”  Brother Platimus was rather aghast.

  “Oh dear,” Aquila moaned.  

  Brother Platimus looked back and forth between Aquila’s downcast expression and the hole-filled robes
 and then shook his head.  “Come, come.  You must be exhausted.  Take a break for the day and we shall
 find you something else to do tomorrow.”

  Aquila made the trek back inside rather dejectedly.  Task number two had failed her.

  The next morning Aquila was taught how to make soap.  It, too, proved to be a disastrous feat.  She had
 somehow got the ingredients and their amounts all wrong and it was too runny to form into balls.  Then she
 had needlework to do, patching all the holes she had scrubbed into the robes.  Thread was all over the
 place, robes with holes too big for the patches attached to them and finally the last straw came when she
 discovered she had sewn her own skirt onto the robe.  Sighing in exasperation, she kicked the open air. 
It took her a little bit to undo her mistake but she undid it and successfully sewed the patch on.

  A monk entered moments later with her afternoon meal.  He picked up the top robe and pulled at the
stitching around the hole.  Aquila noticed the way the material puckered around the patch and she hung her
 head.  

  Shrugging, he scooped up the robes, the needle and leftover patches and left.  An hour later another
monk came in carrying several oil lamps and a jug of oil.  They were all empty and Aquila quickly busied
 herself in filling them.  When she was finished, oil was everywhere, but they were filled and she handed
 them to the monk who had come to retrieve them with pride.

  The monk eyed the spilled oil, shook his head and clucked his tongue, and left.  A moment later he
 returned and cleaned up the mess.  

  It was not until the next day, as Aquila fingered her hair that she had decided to leave down, that
 Brother Shasmal came in with her next task.  He brought her a container of candles and Aquila frowned
 down at them.  “What am I supposed to do with already made candles?”

  He picked one up and lit it from the lamp he pulled down from the wall.  “All of the candles must be
 allowed to burn for a second to condition the wick for proper use.  Simple task but a needed one.”  
He let it burn for a minute and then blew it out and placed it in an empty container he had brought along.

  Aquila nodded and began following suit with the rest of the candles.  Halfway through, she accidentally
 leaned too close to the flame, and some of her hair caught fire.  Screaming, she quickly batted it out with
her hands. 

  Brother Shasmal and Brother Platimus appeared as she looked down at her badly burned hands.  
Brother Shasmal picked her hands up and looked them over.  The two exchanged wide eyed glances
and then Brother Platimus left. 

  “My Dear, the instructions were to light the candles, not your hand,” Brother Shasmal scolded.

  “I—I tried!” Aquila burst out crying.

  “There there, my Dear,” Brother Shasmal patted her on the shoulder as Brother Platimus returned.

  Bandages and clean water were in his arms and quicker than anything he had her hand all bandaged up.  
“There we go, Lady Aquila.  Be sure and change the bandage every morning and every night and put this
salv on it.”  Brother Platimus pulled a small flask out of his pocket.  “It will help the healing process.”

  Aquila remembered her brother Sam and how he loved working in the garden, with herbs, and always
 had the perfect herb or salv to heal everything.  Suddenly she remembered the pain of leaving her family
 behind all over again and her tears returned with fresh vigor.

  Poor Brother Platimus and Brother Shasmal had no idea what had hit her.  They just looked at each other
and shrugged.  Aquila did not know when they left her but she suddenly looked up to find herself all alone
 with the pain.

  One week later when her hands were almost completely healed and she could use them without having
to bandage them up, Brother Cloic from the kitchen brought in a churn and handed her the stave.  Inside
 was soured milk, cream, and some other ingredients and Aquila wrinkled her nose.  Pumping the stave up
and down in the churn constantly, Aquila smiled at the rather tall and robust gentleman.  Maybe she had
 found something she could do.

  After a while, the milk hardened and Aquila had to stop pumping.  Removing the stave, she looked down
 into the churn.  Was that what butter was supposed to look like in the churn?

  It was hard and lumpy; much like her candles had turned out.  When Brother Cloic returned to examine
 her work, he looked down in the churn and shook his head.  Aquila's heart plummeted and her shoulders
 slumped.  “I am useless!”

  Still, as the days kept on, Aquila remained faithful to clean robes, patch holes, make crooked candles,
refill oil lamps, and make butter.  The one thing she refused to do was burn the candles.  

  Then after a few weeks of these things Aquila tested out her ankle without the use of the wooden stick.
 It felt strong and well again.  She took a few steps this way and then that, she stood on it and lifted the other,
 held it in the air and turned it this way and that.  Aquila smiled and jumped an inch off of the ground.  “It is
as good as new,” she exclaimed to the empty room.

  Brother Platimus walked in then handed her a package.  “Ah, I see we have completely regained use of
our limbs.  Well we thought you might have use for these.”

  “What are they?” Aquila asked holding the package slightly at a distance.

  “Robes,” Brother Platimus answered, slightly bemused at her hesitance.

  “Oh, thank you, Brother Platimus.”  Aquila looked down at her worn clothing.  She had changed between
 her light grey tunic with a thicker blue tunic and a white tunic with a thicker brown tunic every other day.
 She had not noticed how worn and tattered they had become.

  When he left, she opened the package and pulled out the two brown robes.  “Hm, they are better than
what I have on…”

  Aquila quickly changed into one of the brown robes.  Running her hands down the side of the brown cloth,
she nodded.  It was soft and comfortable and light.  The lack of weight almost made her feel naked and she
 knew it would take some time for her to grow accustomed to wearing something different than her tunics.

  Now up and walking, Aquila took on more responsibilities.  She kept up those previous activities but
added cleaning chores to her daily routine.  Unfortunately they were just as big of disasters as her first jobs
 were.  One afternoon while cleaning a window in the main library, she tumbled off her stool and grabbed a
 hold of the curtains.  It produced a bruised hip and torn curtains that would have to be mended.  While
 mopping the kitchen, she tripped over her mop and knocked the bucket over just in time for Brother
Portogal, a rather serious fellow, to come by and slip.  It landed him in bed for a period to heal from his
 injuries.

  Finally one morning, Aquila was mopping the main corridor and thinking to herself, as she often did,
what she wanted to do with her life.  I think I could really get to love this life.  I work from sun up
to sun down but it gets me food and board and my robes are not quite so bad.

  Now that Aquila's leg was completely healed, she could go about her way.  Father Suriya, the head of
 the convent, greeted her for breakfast one morning and told her she could choose a horse from the stables
 as final payment for all her work if she chose to leave.  But Aquila was steadily growing to like her place in
 the monastery, which is what she learned it was called through one of Sister Marla's visits.  

  Aquila paused a moment and leaned on the broom of her handle.  It was certainly a wonderful prospect.
 No man would come to look for a wife here, and she could feel as free as a bird.  No man would have rule
 over her again.  She was through with that life.

  Aquila sighed and picked up her broom.  She extended it out and pulled it back but was stopped abruptly
 when it hit something.  She gasped and turned around to find Father Paduma standing there holding his nose,
 blood running through his fingers.  "Father Paduma!  Oh my goodness!  I am so sorry," Aquila cried as she
 pulled a clean rag out of her belt and handed it to him.  

  The blood kept coming no matter how hard they tried, and by the time Sister Marla came on the scene,
Aquila and Father Paduma were both bloody messes.  Sister Marla quickly took control and was finally able
 to bring it under control.  

  Nevertheless, Aquila hung her head and sighed.  She would be packing come morning.