Rose carefully tied the scarf around her chin and checked the ropes to ensure the cart didn't spill it's contents on the way one last time. Despite the heat she wore a scarf on her head to protect it from the brutal sun; dye was especially sensitive on dying day and caused her hair to take on a greasy, crust-like matting on her forehead. Still, she wore it often to ensure that the color didn't fade. She and her mother learned that the hard way when she was much younger and much more a tomboy, and much more gray.
With a wrinkling of her nose- she hated the smell of black berries and her hair still stank of it -she hauled the cart over her home's raised threshold (to keep good luck in and bad luck out) and started on her way.
The roads weren't especially crowded today, what with it being so hot and windy on a Thursday, which was slow anyway. She was making good time when a shout from behind halted her in her tracks.
"Rose!" Karigan shouted, "Rose wait up!"
The girl stopped by her cart panting, some of her blonde hair falling out of it's tight bun. Karigan was an upper middle class girl (in Rose's eyes, at least. There was no Official middle class) and the daughter of the best and cheapest tailors in the area. Still, the girl, a year younger than Rose, about sixteen, dressed modesty and held herself more proudly than any Lady Rose had seen. She often flattered Rose by saying she learned her poise from watching her for years.
"What are you doing in this blasted heat? And on such a slow day?" Karigan asked.
Rose smiled. "I'm selling the last of mother's cloth. It's been making good rounds so we thought we'd bring it out for another day."
"We?" Karigan said, making a show looking around them, "Has she dyed herself to match the scenery, your mother?"
Rose almost flinched at the word dyed, but forced a smile. "No, she's visiting her sister; Aunt Mari."
"The one that hates you?"
"Precisely."
Karigan nodded sympathetically and began walking with her, leaning her head back to look at the swift clouds.
"What are you doing out?" Rose asked.
"Getting some flour, butter and peaches for mother. A rich client is coming tomorrow and she wants to make sweets to impress him," she glanced at Rose with a raised eyebrow, "He's young."
"Ah, I see," said Rose.
Karigan's mother was itching to marry her off to some rich suitor, calling her daughter Lady from a young age. Her father, on the other hand, could wait more than a few years to see his only child go and deeply interrogated every man that so much as glanced at her. "I must be sure you will be in good hands," the man woulds say scruffily and declare every gentleman swine.
The girls chatted about each other's problems, agreeing sympathetically and laughing at rude comments like best friends did in private company and before they knew it they had reached the town. Karigan helped Rose set up the cart and promised to return after she ran her errands to talk some more and skipped away, literally.
Rose sat back and loosened her scarf in the shade, grateful for the wind and took the quiet time to organize her ever busy thoughts.
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