Shadows Beyond Mirath

Samora woke before dawn, curled beneath a heavy blanket in a room that still felt borrowed. For a few quiet moments, she lay with her eyes closed, listening to the distant sounds of the city stirring awake. The ceiling above her was plain and unfamiliar. The air was cool and carried a hint of cooking rice mixed with a faint smell of rain-soaked stone. She missed the gentle scent of jasmine and the soft rustle of leaves outside her old window.

She slipped out of bed and dressed quietly, careful not to wake anyone. The locket her mother had given her rested against her chest, cool and comforting. She closed her fingers around it, holding it tightly as she tiptoed down the narrow hallway.

In the kitchen, her aunt was already there, moving between pots and pans with practiced hands. She caught Samora's eye and offered a gentle smile. "Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?" Her voice was soft but carried a hint of tiredness.

Samora nodded and murmured a quiet greeting in return. She sat at the small table and watched as her aunt ladled porridge into a bowl. The kitchen was bright with morning light, but it felt crowded with the sounds of footsteps and voices from the other rooms. Soon, cousins drifted in and out, talking over one another, grabbing food, and leaving just as quickly. Samora ate her porridge in silence, wishing she could be back at home, where breakfast was calm and the only sounds were the river and the birds.

After breakfast, Samora gathered her things for school. She pulled on her stiff new uniform and tied her hair back with a ribbon. Her satchel was heavy with books, but she held it close to her chest as if it could shield her from the unfamiliar world beyond the door. Her aunt handed her a small lunch wrapped in cloth, then kissed the top of her head. "Be brave, Samora," she whispered. "You are stronger than you think."

The city was busy, even in the early morning. The streets bustled with people hurrying to work, children laughing, vendors calling out their wares. Samora kept her eyes down and walked quickly, careful not to bump into anyone. The noise made her long for the quiet paths of Mirath, where the only sounds were birdsong and the wind in the trees.

At school, the building stood tall and gray against the sky. Samora walked into the busy hallway, holding her satchel close. She searched for Xior, hoping to see his familiar face. When she found him standing by the classroom door, her heart eased a little. He greeted her with a smile.

"Morning, Samora," he said. "Did you bring your drawings today?"

She nodded and opened her satchel to show him a small notebook filled with sketches of birds and flowers. Xior leafed through the pages, his eyes bright with interest. "These are beautiful. You draw like someone who loves the world."

Samora blushed. She was not sure how to answer, but his kind words made her feel lighter.

The morning lessons passed slowly. The teacher's voice was steady and strong, but Samora's mind drifted. She thought of her parents and wondered what they were doing. She pictured her old garden, with sunlight spilling over the tree and birds flitting from branch to branch.

At break, Samora sat by herself under a tree in the schoolyard, her notebook resting on her lap. She drew pictures of sparrows and tried to remember the colors of home. Xior joined her, sitting cross-legged in the grass.

"Do you miss your village?" he asked quietly.

Samora nodded. "Every day."

He was silent for a moment, then said, "The city can be hard. But there are good things here too. You just have to look for them."

She watched the other children play, their laughter ringing out across the yard. For a moment, she wished she could join them, but she did not know how. Instead, she told Xior about Mirath, about the river and the mango blossoms and the old women who told stories in the shade. He listened closely, asking questions, making her feel like her memories mattered.

After break, the day passed in a blur of lessons and new faces. Some classmates stared at her with open curiosity, while others ignored her. A few smiled, and one girl with a crown of tight curls offered her a sweet at lunchtime. Samora took it shyly and said thank you. The kindness felt like a small light in the crowded room.

When school ended, Samora walked home with Xior. They talked about their favorite books and the best places to find wildflowers in the city. The afternoon sun was warm on her face, and for the first time since leaving Mirath, she did not feel completely alone.

Back at her relative's house, Samora helped her aunt shell peas and sweep the kitchen floor. Her aunt was quiet but gentle, showing her how to do things and sometimes humming an old tune. As the evening drew in, Samora wrote a letter to her parents, telling them about her first days in the city and how she had made a friend. She did not write about the moments she had cried or how much she missed them. She wanted her letter to bring them hope, not worry.

That night, Samora climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. She opened her locket and gazed at the tiny picture inside. The garden was still far away, but it lived in her heart. She closed her eyes and let memories of home carry her into dreams. Somewhere in the city, a bird called out, and Samora smiled in the darkness. In this strange new world, she was beginning to find her place.