Life in the Mountains: a Girl's Story - Jessica

My name is Shima. I am ten years old. I live in a little village on the east side of the Natakay Mountains. Our homes here are built right into the side of the cliffs of Mt. Tarlae. They are made out of a chalky, pale-white rock called Chirilaxx, which is always cool to the touch. It must be, for it is always hot in the Natakay Mountains. Few plants grow here, so we rarely get fresh fruit and greens, or, as some people call them, vegetables. We mostly survive on long-legged animals called Waywaes, which are abundant. Therefore, most of the men in our village of Martaka are hunters, and boys are trained to hunt at the age of seven.
My father, Jarmer, is a successful hunter. He comes home every night with the delicious red Waywae meat hidden away in his Waywae-skin satchel, and the dusty-brown Waywae pelt slung over his left shoulder. I love to watch him come walking up the soft dirt path to our cozy little house every night. The way the late-afternoon sun glances off of his glossy, black, ear-length hair, the way he saunters up the path as if he has no care in the world, the way he swings the satchel back and forth, back and forth, and most of all, the way he calls out my name in his deep strong voice, ruffles my glossy black hair (even though it’s usually pulled back into two braids), and drops the soft Waywae pelt into my outstretched arms for me to use for clothes and blankets.
My father is not the only one with jobs to do each day. Every day, in the dim, early-morning sun, I haul the big chirilaxx jug down to a small stream hidden in the valley inbetween Mt. Tarlae and Mt. Utapartu, our neighboring mountain. I dip the jug into the cool mountain stream and let it fill with water for my family to use. When I lift it out of the water, I set it on the riverbank, then scoop a handful of the refreshing water up in my hands and press my face into them. Ahhh. There’s nothing as good as the chilling water of Lurmita Stream on a hot day. But I have a responsibility to do for my small family. I quickly but carefully set the jug of water on my head and trudge up the path to my home in the mountains, careful not to spill a drop. I hold my hands on either side of the jug to keep it steady.
When I walk in the door of my home, I set the jug down on a small table. It is made out of a tree called the Vallatara Tree. After pouring the water into three small cups, one for each of the members of my family, I run to greet my mother, Taela. After giving her a hug and receiving a kiss on each of my cheeks, I run to build a fire in our fire hold right outside our house and get started making breakfast, which usually consists of leftover Waywae meat mixed with the little amount of herbs we have left in our storage pots. The rest of the day I play outside with my rag doll I got 7 years ago, when we took a visit to my grandpappy and grandmammy. I also sometimes run errands for my neighbors. When the sun disappears and the sky goes dark, I hurry inside and go to my bedroom, a small room off of the main one. I huddle under my Waywae pelt that I use for a blanket and fall asleep, ready for another day in the Natakay Mountains.