"ISADORA! Where is that forsaken girl? ISADORA!" A woman's voice shook the entire household, demanding and urgent.
"Do you have to shout, mamma?" twelve-winter-old Riven groaned, trying to focus on his swordplay. He eagerly swung his wooden sword like a ten-foot beast was before him.
"Yes, I must, where is your sister?!"
He recoiled and turned towards his mamma with a scowl. "Please don't call her that. And how should I know?"
"She has chores to do, now she has gone off to gods' knows where. I'm already burdened by the fact she's a lost cause." She paced, unsettled. Her mind grew apprehensive, and the wrinkles sprouting from her delicate features she'd hone to perfection. "The entire village already sees us as people out of touch with society. What if they see that good-for-nothing girl and discover why our life is in so much ruin?!"
