Valeria
The letter congratulated her on becoming more useful.
It used different words.
Valeria read them again, then folded the page along the existing crease.
Nineteen brought increased responsibility. Her conduct now carried greater weight in the household's future arrangements. The family expected her to understand the value of the connections she was making during the expedition.
There was a line wishing her health.
It came after the instructions.
She set the letter beside her cup and finished the last of her food.
The shelter was quieter after the midday meal. A carrier slept with his hat over his face. Two workers were arguing softly over a missing spoon.
Valeria flexed her wrist.
The old burn no longer pulled with every ordinary movement. She had carried her own cup that morning without thinking about which hand to use.
The newer cuts across her knuckles had closed too. A little stiffness remained, and the skin still disliked rough rope.
She could live with that.
