Chapter 1

Chapter One

The pitch seemed to blare across the small clearing. Everyone stopped playing and looked toward the source.

Ashira’s face was turning red. She knew she had played the wrong note, even if she didn’t have much of an ear for music. The maestro looked at her with pity and sighed.

“Let’s start at the top,” he said to the children.

They all looked back at him and waited for his cue. Ashira held the flute up to her mouth and waited. She was determined to get it right this time.

And she did, until five measures from the end. She read an E, but fingered a G. Before she let out the note, she realized her fingers were wrong and simply stopped. The maestro noticed the lack of the E, but said nothing. Ashira came back in on her next note, the final one of the song. The music ended with the maestro cutting everyone off. Ashira bowed her head. Only a few of her peers around her had noticed her missing E, and they also said nothing.

As the children were walking out of the clearing, one girl detached herself from the crowd and walked over to Ashira, who was still sitting on the ground.

“Can I sit down?” asked the girl.

Ashira nodded silently. She was staring at the flute in her hands. It was a smaller one than her father's, but the same intricate carvings had been carved into it.

“It's all right if you aren't good at music,” the girl tried. She wanted to console Ashira, feeling bad for her.

“Everyone is good at music. I'm not. That's not all right,” she replied morosely. Even at age ten, all the children showed amazing skills. That was the norm in their country.

“Then maybe you're good at something else,” the girl offered.

Ashira looked up at her. The girl had golden brown eyes and wavy brown hair, just like everyone in their village. Everyone except Ashira, that is. Even her own father had golden eyes and brown hair.

“If I'm not good at music, there isn't really anything I would be good at, is there?”

The girl pondered that for a moment. She wasn't sure what else Ashira might be good at.

Choosing not to answer the question, she asked on of her own.

“You're Ashira, right? I'm Clarris,” she said, smiling a little.

Ashira looked at her and also smiled.

“I bet you're not that bad at music,” Clarris said. Then she had an idea. “Let's try jamming!” she said excitedly.

Ashira raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“But I'm not musical. I can't jam. At least, not good.”

Clarris shook her head.

“But let's try. Maybe you'll be good at that.”

Ashira shrugged. Clarris held up her small guitar that she had lain next to her.

“I'll play chords and you match the progression. Just play whatever melody comes to mind. Try to stay within my key, of course.” Clarris sat on a nearby stump and started strumming, playing a simple series of chords. She played it a couple times so Ashira could get a feel for it, then nodded to her.

Ashira, holding the flute at the ready, inhaled and played her first pitch. She had no idea what to do, so she just played scales for a couple measures. Then she thought of going to the thirds of each of the chords, and played around those. Soon she had a simple melody going. At about a minute into playing, she jumped into the higher register of the flute and played what she thought would harmonize well with what she had just played. It was at a minute and a half that she fingered the wring note, sending an accidental across the tree tops. She stopped playing, but Clarris did not. She just smiled at Ashira and nodded, encouraging her to keep going. Ashira took deep breath to calm her nerves, waited till the end of the progression, then started back on the melody she had found a minute before.

Clarris played the last chord, and let it ring. Ashira took the cue and ended her melody line, stopping a few notes later.

“That was awesome!” Clarris exclaimed, smiling broadly.

“I messed up,” Ashira said, furrowing her brow in frustration.

“So?”

“You didn't,” Ashira said.

“What does ti matter? You jammed and it sounded really good! Maybe you just have to work a little more than others. But is that so bad, really? Even if you don't have the knack for it like everyone else, I think you could be just as good as anyone here.”

Ashira shrugged.

“I guess so. Thanks for playing with me,” she said.

Clarris stood, one hand holding the guitar by the neck.

“Let's do it again sometime. I enjoyed it.”

Ashira nodded, although she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Arthoir stood under the cover of the trees, watching her blonde-haired daughter. He listened to the simple music that she and her new friend created. Slipping away toward the village, he was smiling. Finally, his daughter had a friend.