What Rynna Saw

By Kate B.

Rynna woke from her pleasant dreams and sighed, finding her current situation just the same as when she had fallen asleep. A familiar ache filled her bones and muscles. Hesitantly, she peeked out the window, seeing nothing but dry, cracked ground for miles and miles in every direction. No color, no plants, and most certainly no water. There had been none on her planet for many years, except in one place. A cough tickled her dry throat, so she dressed and checked the water bucket. An inch of warmish water mellowed in the bottom. It wetted her tongue pleasantly as it trickled down her throat. Then there was no more. Her father’s cot was empty, of course. He woke before both suns every day, while all three moons were still awake in the sky. He lovingly kissed his young daughter’s forehead, and headed to his work as an assistant pig farmer. The pigs were scrawny and underfed, costing a fortune. Only the wealthiest could afford meat.

Rynna’s father was not wealthy. Far from it, in fact. They were lucky when her father was permitted to bring home the leftover scraps the pigs didn’t eat, like shriveled carrots and half-rotted potatoes full of holes. But he made a stew with those scraps and shared it with a love that made it taste better than anything else on the whole planet. Maybe even in the entire galaxy.

Rynna shook off the cloud of reverie. No time to waste, she thought. She swept the dirt floor, tidied her things, wiped the dishes, and made up her straw-cot. Wrinkling her nose, she ate a thin slice of bread that was spotted in mold, and, just like everything else, as dry as bones. With another deep sigh that rose from deep within the hole in her heart, she took the water bucket, and slipped out of the hut.

The walk to the well was a long one. The heavy bucket swung against Rynna’s leg as she walked the well treaded path, bumping her in a sort of rhythm she was long accustomed to. Thump. Thump. Thump. Her thin blue dress and worn boots did little to protect her from the swirling dust. A handkerchief, red and thick, sheltered her nose and mouth, but made breathing a hot, arduous business. The other people around her, men, women, and small children, grimly set their faces against the heat and dust, making no conversation or eye contact. Rynna was young, but even she could see the hopelessness beneath their empty eyes, tangled hair, and ragged clothes. They marched on together in a long line, towards the one thing that kept them all alive. Rynna struggled to keep up, knowing as well as the rest there might not be enough water today to go around.

When Rynna arrived at The Last Well, she had to wait as all the others, rich and poor alike, filled their buckets and left. She was the final one to gather water. Rynna bent over the well, peering at her reflection. A girl stared back, her face smudged with dirt, her eyes of dark blue, her hair tangled and brown. Brown like everything else on that dry, cursed planet. When her bucket was full, she splashed water over her face, washing off layers of dust and sweat. She took a long drink, savoring every drop of the cold, clean, water.

Refreshed, Rynna picked up her heavy bucket, straightened her back, and started the long walk home, alone. The breeze had left, and with it the swirling dust. She surveyed the plain landscape. Beyond the well-travelled path, a group of huts huddled in a cluster. Beyond that were more clusters of identical dwellings: walls of mud, roofs of hay. Then the town center, crawling with villagers, where people traded handfuls of grubby gold coins for thin, dirty vegetables and tiny sacks of flour.

After an hour or so of walking, Rynna thought she saw something to the left. She squinted. Yes, she was sure of it now. A tiny dot of color stood out against the beige hill like a star in the night sky. Setting her bucket down, she ran towards it. As she drew near, she gasped. There, even under the scorching heat of the sun, even with seemingly no water, was a perfect little flower.

The petals were of the deepest violet, spread out bravely towards the sky. The stem, though thin and unhealthy, stood perfectly straight, as if determined to be strong. Soft leaves wound up the stalk, and the petals grasped the center like hands cradling a bright yellow jewel. Rynna fingered the delicate petals with great care, and bent to smell the tiny miracle. A sweet aroma filled her nostrils, and warmth spread through her soul.

For a long, sacred moment she knelt there, her dress blowing about her. She filled her eyes with the beauty, her nose with the scent, and her heart with the spark of joy the little flower lit. With one more wondering look, she ran back to the path. Her bucket still sat alone, but all the water was gone. Stolen, she realized! People would do anything for water these days. She sighed half-heartedly, picked up her bucket, and headed back up the hill to The Last Well, still reveling in her discovery.

Then, for the first time in ages, Rynna smiled.

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Kate lives in the beautiful mountains of Northern Utah with her parents, siblings, and goldendoodle, Violet. When she isn’t writing you can find her reading as many books as she can find, performing in musical theater, and riding her yellow motorcycle named Matilda Mae. She loves spending time with family and friends and serving the Lord out of gratitude to Him.