Disembody

This story was written by Nirmoonstar.

It is not permitted to change anything from the story into something out of context or change the plot, but fixes to minor grammatical mistakes are allowed. My name is Etheral FloralBreeze. You may be wondering why you have never heard something similiar to my name before, but that's cause I was born in the old age of Jamaa.

I was born during the Feast of Thanks in 264 B.M. or Before Mira. In a small area native to the Balloosh tribes, I was raised as an female warrior thoroughly up into the territory of the high ranks. You see, the apprentices were the most disregarded high rank possible, only serving for war recruitment and minor magic. Healers were mostly respected, as they healed practically every wounded and hurt soldier or young mother that the small village had to offer.

Then, came the warriors.

Male warriors were dominant and some were even captains of the guard if favored enough, but the female warriors were placed on a more trivial high stool. They served like the left hand of the king, coming to solve any disputes and arguments focused on the economy and overall well-being of the land. Ordered to fight in the war aswell, female warriors were to sacrifice themselves for male warriors, as they were the more significant gender for being royal slaves to the king.

I, though, was a rebel.

Whatever any street republican philosopher would tell me, I still believed I could be as righteous as any male warrior could. I had the maximal of masculinity that any other weak female couldn't grasp and I wanted to get my rights assigned to me. I knew I had that one chance to contribute to the many others that speak freely, and I was going to take it.

"Etheral, would you bare to take some of my mystical soup? I thought you always liked the taste of it."

"I knoweth, mother.  I am just not filled with pangs of hunger as I hath used to beest as an infant."

I stated to my mother, having her face distort into a odd mix of concern and utter annoyance. Not this again.

"Will you stop talking in that horrible.. accent? It always gets on my nerves."

"I am training to speaketh to the king at which hour I am available to obtaineth mine own ranketh as official female warrior.  I cannot believeth thou art trying to crusheth mine own dearest dreams again, mother."

I slightly snarled, knowing she'd learn me lectures about this once again as she had times before, like she was reading exactly from a book.

But this time, a look of sorrow spread across her rather young and motherly face as she stepped back into our 3rd century kitchen. She knew she couldn't change my mind, and I knew I wouldn't want her to either. I was afraid of it resulting in a bad taste in both of our mouths like last time, when I truly got out of control.

My stomach attained the first signs of hunger, as I looked down to loathe at my bony ribs reaching out from the sides of my chest. A year before, I was a lump of mass that only knew sleep and venting. I was not ready to let my metabolism get even more affected by the fat that I had gained throughout my life, but I knew that my state of slowly sinking into anorexia wasn't even better.

After that, I think I might have blacked out. I can't remember anything up until that point.

Few months have passed. I've gotten my weight back into order and my health is better than ever. My mother had let me go of the constant drama between me and her about my warrior dream, but she let it slide. Last time she did that, dad left.

Things have been crazier than before. I signed up for a college (I think) for warrior training and a bunch of my neighbours and mutuals were there. I thought they didn't want to be warriors and instead, apprentices or healers, but the little amount of males in our village could possibly be the explanation to the sudden rise of female warriors.

When dad left, it was because of me. How my mom always heard me saying I wanted to be a warrior like my big brother when I grew up. He always patted me on the head and said how cute I was, but he never really commented it. Probably cause he was utterly disappointed in me and my mom. They'd get into heated arguments, and sometimes it'd get physical, but not too rough. He gathered the group of males in our village and left. Only one remains now, a young arctic wolf who's under the protection of his overprotective mother.

He's training to be a warrior. I hope he passes his classes soon.

I promised my mom no matter how hard it gets for me and her that I will always be there by her side, no matter what. Even if war gets into the way, I wouldn't go. I'd rather pass away with one of my parents that helped me more than anyone for a stupid battle. I love her so much.

It's past night, I should probably go to my hay shack and go to sleep.

"Sweet dreams", the voice of my mother echoed out through my large and empty room, the last blaze of light leaving with a subtle turn of a doorknob. I hope she makes it.