Verith stared out the carriage window at the hills rolling by, beautiful greens flowing from one to the next to the next to the next. She amazed herself that wasn’t failing her classes, what with how little time she spent listening and how much she spent letting her mind wander. 

Even now, she thought of a good book she’d read a couple years ago, the one about the sorceress and the princess and the prince. What was it called again? Raven’s something? She’d moved five times since leaving for Brahma, and she’d cried the first three times. 

The first time, she’d cried over the memories she’d grown up with; she cried over the tree she used to nap under, the stray cat she befriended, and the garden her mother was buried under.

The second time, she’d cried over the people she’d grown to love; she cried over the sweet old baker who gave her cookies, the pretty young lady who taught her how to be polite in the ways nobody said out loud, and the kind gentleman who taught her self-defense.

The third time, she cried because she thought she had forgotten her books for schooling and was scared she’d get in trouble.

Verith had yet to cry this time, but thinking back to the other three brought her close to it. 

“. . . and what year did Alaian discover the Brotherland?” She almost didn’t hear her teacher, and blinked hurriedly as she focused back on the world around her. “S-sorry, say that again?” she asked sheepishly.

“Good to see you were paying attention, little shoat¹shoat means ‘a piglet, especially one that has been weened’,” they said bitterly. “What year did Alaian discover the Brotherland?” 

Okay, Verith, think. What year was it . . . It’s 1063 læla’nthei, and he got here 275 years ago . . . so that means . . .

“798?” Verith winced, knowing it didn’t sound right. “Close. 788. I’d give you half credit for that. Moving on, Alaian was accompanied by . . .” And right back out the window Verith’s eyes went, daydreaming of beautiful sorceresses and handsome princesses and knights in shining armor.