The first time I remember crying was when I was told the cook wasn’t my mother. Not just tearing from pain. I’d experienced that a bit, but real crying. Turned out, I didn’t have a mother. Just like now, I couldn’t place my feelings and I’d also been confused about how I should feel. My siblings were much older than me and my brothers liked to thump me on the head, so when they got me good, my eyes would tear either from the pain or frustration. I guess they felt they should as our father had little interest or time for me. I didn’t cry when they thumped me; that only encouraged them.

I knew who my older brothers were and my father, of course. I had older sisters, too, but they were married before I really knew them. I only recognized them later because they came to the manor to visit from time to time. Three of my older brothers were married and their families lived in the manor with us along with an annoying and growing number of little kids. I just tried to keep out of my brothers' way. I guess they couldn’t forgive me for killing our mother.

I didn’t do it on purpose. She died giving birth to me. They reminded me of it often. I guess she had been loving and attentive. Not like my father. He named me Aebbe Marie Theodora Wymer (pronounced like Abby and spelled in a difficult way to annoy although some old people pronounced it ab-bay). He’s the Baron of Thornhill and everyone has to do what he says. I’m not good at doing what I’m told, so, I try to stay out of his way, too.

Thornhill is a bit of a misnomer. It’s actually not just one hill but a cluster of hills that rise up higher than the surrounding marshlands. Our manor house is built on the highest hill and basically in the middle of the town. From my room’s third story window, I look out to the north and see the wide expanse of marsh that surrounds us. My room is the one farthest down the hall and highest up. I don’t mind it. Often I can look out and watch the fog drift over the marsh in the evenings.

We are a small community in the Duchy of Ashlar with only a few hundred people living here. We mostly get by on fishing, hunting and gathering, but there are a few farms on the road going east and west out of town. The thorn part of the name is because there are briars that naturally occur in these hills of blueberry, blackberry, and raspberry. People think that all those fruits are produced on one plant, but that’s ridiculous, of course. They just grow really close together and it seems that way. Our spring berry harvest is quite famous and our berry turnovers and cakes are well loved in the communities that surround us, even as far away as Holdstone, as it turns out. I didn’t find that out until later, but I’m getting ahead of my story.

People call us isolated, but we have a good road connecting us to communities to the south which have more minerals and lumber as well as communities to the east and west rich in manufactured goods, livestock and food. It’s true you have to ride for a couple of days to get to any other town and we don’t get too many merchants or entertainments that come through. But when that’s all you know, it seems rather normal.

I’m the eighth and last child of Baron Aelfgar Wymer of Thornhill. Actually that makes me Lady Aebbe, but the only time people call me that is at boring balls, dinner parties, and clan gatherings. Most people call me Aebbe. Anyone calls me Theodora I thump them on the head. Yes, I know it’s my mother’s name, but she had some nice ones and father had to pick that one for me.

When I was 3 years old, I was put into the care of Inge, the cook. That’s why I thought she was my mother. Every day she would get me up, dress me, and take me down to the kitchens. She never showed me how to cook officially, she had older daughters for that, but I picked up a few things. She did teach me to find herbs and mushrooms and edible plants all around the marsh and woodlots near Thornhill. Turns out I’m quite good at it. Better at finding morels than the pigs! When I was 5 and a half, I’d go by myself because they knew I could gather enough for the whole household without help. Inge’s daughter, Inge (I know, it’s annoying) showed me how to tend the manor garden and grow things from seeds we would collect in the wild. They eventually set aside a small side yard for me to grow rare flowers and things. I should have realized THEY didn’t get special side gardens. I also should have realized I didn’t get regularly pinched or yelled at by Inge or her husband who was the baker. But, I just didn’t give it much notice it at the time.

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When I got tired of working in the kitchens at age 6, Inge passed me off to Reeves who took care of the animals of the manor. I loved animals, too, so it was fun to learn how to care for the horses and hunting dogs, as well as the chickens and pigs we kept for food.

That’s when I met Gavendor. He’s a crusty old soldier who my father put in charge of hunting and defense of the manor. He saw I was a natural rider and a quick learner, so he taught me to ride and began to take me out on hunting trips. Since I knew something about cooking, I was put in charge of making the stew or roast for dinner, when we'd stay overnight. Apparently, adding a few herbs and spices had never occurred to the male hunters and consequently, everyone said they had never eaten so well in the field. I had my secrets (I had my own pot of salt and pfeffer I always carried once I was put in charge of meals), but mostly it was just knowing the herbs, occasionally finding some nice-tasting tubers and mushrooms, and how much to add.

Once, one of the soldiers had a bad turn of his stomach while we were out and I made him a tea for it. When we got back to the manor, our healer said I had probably saved his life. I didn’t think anything of it. I was actually shocked when I was paraded to my father over it. It was just natural for me to put my knowledge to use. I didn’t mention or let anyone see me cast that earth spell on the tea. I’m not sure what anyone would think about it. It’s not like I have a lot of magic. It’s just in the air and wilderness here. You just have to learn to tap into it. He did look really sick and I thought I’d best put as much healing into the tea as I could, herbs can only do so much.

We have the occasional mage or wizard that will come through our small town and I was always sure to offer to cook for them or help them find some rare herb to see if I could learn anything. So, I picked up a few things, mostly basic elemental incantations.

Old Gavendor trained me up on the crossbow. He even got me a small one to learn on. Pretty soon, I was on regular hunting patrol. I learned to shoot small animals in the head to keep the meat intact. I also learned to skin and prepare the carcasses. It was pretty easy. And I’d been around meat from a young age, so it was natural to want to prepare the kills for eating. Plus, they don’t weigh as much after you gut them. That’s important when you’re a young girl.

I didn’t much appreciate being a girl. Not only was I thumped by my big brothers all a lot older than me, but I couldn’t carry a deer carcass, could I? I could shoot it, no problem and gut it. But I needed help to move it. There was never a small deer around to shoot either. Even the small boys in the hunting party would make fun of me over it. But, there was not much I could do. I asked Gavendor about it and he suggested some exercises to strengthen my arms and legs. I did them every day, but I didn’t think it would really make a difference.

When I’d asked Gavendor to train me in the sword, he had refused. When I pressed him as to why, he said he didn’t feel it was a woman’s place and that my father would not allow it. Still, he did teach me to use and throw a dagger. I knew how to use a skinning knife, of course, but he showed me how a dagger could be used very effectively in close combat. We used them on hunts sometimes when an animal wasn’t downed easily. It was important not to let an animal suffer. Suffering is suffering. Even though we have to kill to survive, we never kill to be cruel. He liked to tell us about one time a marsh panther attacked him while he’d been gutting a deer out on his own. Even though he was a master of the sword, that day, his dagger had saved his life. He said it had been a shame to kill the panther, as they weren’t very common, but if he hadn’t he would not have lived to tell the tale. He showed us the scars where it had made deep gashes in his legs. Most of his other scars were from battles with goblins or, at least, that’s what he claimed.