OOC: Found a copy of this. Old thing slightly rewritten, but hopefully working.

Cirynne was born in a poor family in Lugard, Murandy. Her father, Kovyn, were once a carpenter, but began to drink after Ciry’s older brother’s death. Now he was always depressed and often hit Cirynne and her mother when the rage and remorse came over him. Cirynne learned to discover the small signs that gave way that Kovyn was at his worst mood. Then it was time to run, run away, hide, disappear. Her constant hiding place was at their kind neighbour, an old man named Vaitel. He was like a grandfather to her. He told her stories about Aes Sedai, kings and queens. He taught her how to read and write and other things that is good know in a city like Lugard, if you wanted to fend for yourself and not easily become tricked. She learnt how to defend herself with knives and other things, whatever could be in good reach of hands or feet. That was good to know, because being a street rat like she was, was not an easy life.

All of these acquired skills came in hand when her father thought it was time for her to learn how to earn some money for the family income, to support his way of living close to his booze. She was forced to become a thief, or fend of his rage when she returned empty handed. Her will of survival made her turn into a quite skilful urchin.

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Cirynne woke up in the early dawn, the sun hadn’t risen over the horizon yet. Stretching and stifling a yawn she scratched her dark-brown hair and tried to comb it through, but soon abandoned the impossible chore and got dressed instead. If she hurried she wouldn’t have to face the possibility to meet Kovyn. Although her father was an alcoholic, he was usually quite early in the morning, regardless of when he had got to sleep the evening before. Dressed in large, brown breeches and a greenish coat, she twisted her hair into a knot on her head and pulled a dirty cap over it, to hide the fact that she wasn’t a boy. The clothes had belonged to her brother, who she missed greatly, remembering the happy days that once had existed in this house. All of her attire were a little too big, but they were not worn- and grown out of as her own skirts was.

Out on the street her green eyes watched every person without trust. That she had learned during her years as a thief. There were few people to trust and a hand giving an offering of an apple could as soon turn to smack you over your fingers, without warning. Her hand fingered a little on the knife she always had hidden in a pocket of her jacket.

Cirynne had never had any close friends, except for her older brother and since his death, Vaitel. Vaitel had learned her to use her brain and she had enough of wits to be called smart. He was an old man, but still full of life and with enough compassion to help out the young girl.

Roaming the streets in the early morning hours, that way keeping herself warm, she waited patiently for more people to come out. A crowd would make her chores more easy to perform. She eventually got started, closing in on a inattentive visitor of the city.

When the evening was falling over Lugard, Cirynne walked home. It was a bad day. She hit a few small rocks with a worn shoe, watching the stone tumble in the gravel of the road. Thinking back of the events of the day, she felt lucky. It had been a close call and she had almost got caught by a gang of boys and lost a lot of the money that she had earned. Her belly rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t got her hands on any food a part from a loaf of bread that she had found in the early morning hours.

In the kitchen her father sat, brooding over a bottle of bad beer. Her mother was standing, slightly crouched over the stove stirring in a pot. Apparently they had had enough meat to make some soup this evening. Cirynne smelled the air and the flavours that was vapouring out of the pot made her mouth water. None of her parents had looked up when she opened the door. She was used to it and it didn’t really bother her, it was nice to not get any attention and she tried to close the door softly to not disturb the rare peace. Knowing the routine of things she stepped up to the table and started to empty her pockets in front of her father, noticing how his red eyes followed her every movement. A few coins, two apples and some bread.

”Is that all?” asked her father.

”I had a bad day,” Cirynne answered. After a long day she was tired and she felt slightly numb, thus she didn’t take the care to be as careful as she used to be. She shouldn’t have said it like that, it sounded cocky and she would’ve taken it back if she could as soon as it had slipped through her lips.

”Is that all!” It wasn’t a question anymore, more of a roar of rage and her father stepped up so fast that his chair fell to the floor. He was reeling drunk.

Cirynne backed frightened to the wall, her eyes widened with fear and her father’s eyes locked her to that position. She couldn’t move. Her body was trembling, because she knew what would come and that it would pass quicker if she didn’t resist it. That would only annoy her father and would show him that she had a will of her own. Without thinking her hand grabbed the knife in her pocket.

Supporting himself at the table to get his balance back, Kovyn rounded it and came at her, knuckling his fist against one another. He lifted his hand and the first blow hit her over her head and she felt it ring as she crouched together, covering herself with her arms a bit too late to avoid it. Diverting the blows most times made up for more hits, but she couldn’t help her own reactions. Through her fingers, clasped over and protecting her face, Cirynne saw her mother, still standing beside the stove, but now watching her two family members with fear filled eyes. Cirynne knew that that was all the reaction she would receive. Her mother had never stepped between Kovyn and his daughter and Cirynne hated her for that, although she knew that Esther also got her fair share of punches.

The blows continued and Cirynne felt something bubble inside of her, something unstoppable and she did the unthinkable. She started defending herself, her body, her whole sense of being. Her father was a lot stronger than herself, but not as lithe.

Suddenly the cloudy mist in front of Cirynne’s eyes disappeared and she noticed the silence at first. It was complete, almost as if she could’ve cut through it with the knife she was holding in her hand. She was holding a knife in her hand. Her hand, that was bloody. Blood that was dripping down on her hand from the tip of the blade held erect. Looking at it without really understanding what had happened, her mother’s scream brought her back to reality. Her father was laying on the floor in front of her with blood on his shirt.

”No, no..” Cirynne wailed over and over again. She felt her mother’s accusing looks on her, stabbing at her. It was silent again which was almost worse than the scream. Slowly backing out of the room, Cirynne twisted around and ran for the bunk of her bed in the other room. Pulling it away, she lifted up the floor board where she hid a few things that she found most precious, but would’ve been junk for most. She didn’t have a lot of belongings, but a few and all that she could grab she stuffed into a bag. A second change of clothes, a pair of boots too large for her feet, an apple... Unsure of what she had put into it, she glanced around the room quickly, hearing her mother moving in the other room. Her bed was ruffled now and the blankets well worn, but it was her home.

Without looking back she climbed out of the window and out on the roof. A way which she had often used to stealth over to her friend’s house, the neighbour Vaitel. A window at the second floor stood slightly ajar, knowing her need to get away from her own home all too well. Not the immense need of this foul evening though. Entering through it, Vaitel turned from the warm fire burning, taking in the whole, sad figure of the girl in front of him. The blood on her hands were hard to miss.

With her tears falling Ciry told Vaitel everything that had happened. It was a stuttering, somewhat incomplete story of a day that she would never forget. She stuttered, she cried, she screamed, but two firm hands were put on her shoulders trying to get her to understand.

”Listen to me Cirynne.” A slight shook of her body to make her eyes look into his. They were older, wiser. ”Listen Cirynne!” He never called her Cirynne, only when something was really important and she tried to stop crying. ”You can’t stay here any more. Of what you say, you might have killed your father. You must leave Lugard.”

”B-b-but this is m-m-my hom-m-me,” she stuttered.

”I know, child, but you will maybe be taken for a murderer and you don’t want that, do you?” Vaitel didn’t wait for an answer, but continued. ”Once, I was a Warder in training in Tar Valon. I decided to leave when the Aes Sedai I was promised to died. You should go there. There you would be safe and perhaps you can become an Aes Sedai if you want to, Cirynne. When you are safely there, write to me. Tell me if you have trouble and I’ll try to help.”

Vaitel forced Cirynne to take his savings and forced her to leave. When she refused, he almost lifted her out of the house, sent her on her way. At the same time, hurrying through the ally, she saw soldiers entering her own home. She turned and ran. It took a long time before she stopped.

She began her long trip to Tar Valon when the sun rose once again, beginning a new day. Ciry’s head was filled with thoughts, emotions and feelings. A numbness was spreading through her body and her grim face made people during her journey avoid her. She was hurt, not bodily but mentally. She knew she wouldn’t become Aes Sedai, she had no idea what she would be. She just wanted to mend.

When the autumn was almost over she stood outside the beautiful city, with its bridges, arches and wonderfully shaped houses. She was not whole, but some part had accepted and she knew what she wanted. If she could and had the strength. She wanted to fight for the Light as a Warder, like Vaitel once did. Perhaps she could help someone this way, perhaps a child who had not done anything to deserve getting hurt.