Myastar's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Myastar's mother could not lift the water bucket anymore. So Myastar carried it down to the basin herself, twelve steps from their cottage door. The town council had given every family thirty days to leave. Rent money would buy time. Myastar was twelve, and she had one way to make money: her drawings. She knelt at the edge of the clear water and washed the last dishes. Her hands shook. Inside, her mother coughed on the mat, purple face turned toward the wall. Medicine cost money too. Myastar dried her hands on her purple dress and made a decision. She had eleven drawings rolled in her arms. Foxes. Tigers. A rabbit she had copied from a real one by the river. Each one took her two hours. She planned to sell them for five or ten dollars near the water, where people passed all day. Myastar set up on a flat rock beside the basin. She spread the drawings out and weighed the corners with pebbles. Then she waited. The blue water moved slow and quiet behind her. Her stomach growled. People came. A woman with a basket looked and walked on. Two men laughed at something else and did not stop. An hour passed. Myastar's face grew hot. She wanted to run back inside and hide the drawings under the mat. Then a girl with dirty blonde hair stopped. She looked about ten. She stared at the drawing of the rabbit for a long time. "Did you draw all these?" the girl asked. "Yes," Myastar said. "Five dollars each." The girl dug in her pocket and pulled out coins. She counted them twice. "I only have three dollars." Myastar looked back at the cottage. She heard her mother cough again through the thin wall. Three dollars was not ten. But three dollars was more than nothing. "Okay," Myastar said. "Three dollars for the rabbit." The girl grinned and handed over the coins. She held the drawing like it was made of glass. "My little sister will love this. Can you make more animals?" Myastar's heart jumped. "I can make anything." "Then I'll tell people," the girl said. She pointed down the row of cottages. "Lots of families here have kids. Everybody wants pretty things before we all have to leave." She ran off with the rabbit under her arm. Myastar held the three coins tight. She had sold one drawing. It was not enough for rent. It was not enough for medicine. But it was proof that her drawings were worth money. Then she counted her rolls and understood the new problem. She had ten drawings left and only twenty-seven days. One sale in one hour was too slow. If word spread, she would need far more animals, drawn faster, before the council came. She gathered her pencils and hurried inside to start the next one.