Living Between the Lines

Disclaimer: I own Sierra and all the people of Wilmné, but Tamora Pierce has made and owns almost all the names mentioned in this story. I own Wilmné but as expected, almost all of the other settings are owned by Tamora Pierce. Song by Fall Out Boy.

Authors Note: Review! I need to know if this story is being read or not, or if anybody likes it. The more reviews I get, the more I am likely to update!


'Cuz I'll keep singing this lie

If you'll keep believing it.

I'll keep singing this lie...

I'll keep singing this lie...

Sierra lay in a field of light grass, gazing thoughtfully at the floating clouds above her, mind drifting. The pines surrounding her seemed to whisper a quiet tune. It was rare for Sierra to be able to lie without being called for; yet when she had found the clearing in the trees, peace was not as rare as before.

Although Sierra had lived at Wilmné all her life, she had never felt a true part of the people. The people of Wilmné named it 'One of a Kind' and it was true. All noble families had their own land, the most well known being Pirates Swoop, where the famous Lioness lived. There were also places where nobles and commeners lived together, although seperated by walls...the most well-known being Corus. And then there were a few houses, would you call them villages, along the road where commeners lived.

And then there was Wilmné. Almost as large as Corus, Wilmné stretched along endlessly, crowded with commoners and cheap markets. Although there was such a large population, almost everybody knew everybody, and trips to the market were often kept long with conversations of an old friend, of a cousins' friend, or somebody of the sort. Everybody knew everybody, and most people knew all the gossip about everybody. Secrets were unheard of, as was peace.

Which was where Sierra came in. She was shy and quiet, something very little Wilmné people were accustomed to, especially in a sixteen-year-old. When she would glance worridly at the ground, people would worry or hate. Her pale face was also strange; with all the sun found in Wilmné, everybody had tans or burns. Her features were different; almost more noble-like than the rough-faced Wilmné people. Her long light blond hair always seemed clean. Many people often referred to her eyes as "witch-like". They were a strange mix: hazel and blue. Truth be told, if she had not been so shy and uncommon, she would have had many suitors.

Her parents, Leon and Sarrah, looked quiet unlike their daughter. They had darker skin, the darkest white, almost completely black hair, and common accents. Leon's eyes were a hazel, while Sarrah's were a deep chocolate brown. They treated Sierra normally, as if she was. But Sierra knew she was not like the Wilmné, and would spend whatever time she could hiding in the clearing, thinking of her future and life.

But today was slightly different. As Sierra lay in the clearing, her mind would not lie to peace. The reason was known well to herself: Leon and Sarrah had told her earilier that they needed to have an important discussion with her. If she had been younger, Sierra would have expected a lecture of some sort, but sixteen was a different age. It was the age when parents let go of their children that could never be true Wilmné, or told them how good of a Wilmné they would make. But Sierra knew that she would never make a good Wilmné; she was different. Which was why Sierra was expected to expect the worst.

And on my birthday too!


Sierra sat across from Leon, her mother to her right, at the table. Coversation was striking between Leon and Sarrah, but Sierra kept quiet. Her nerves were jumping, hardly able to enjoy the small feast Sarrah had made for the occasion. The minutes seemed be endless, falling through endless time.

Sarrah looked up from her conversation with Leon, which had turned into whispers, and gave Sierra a petite smile. Seeing Sarrah was about to speak, Sierra made herself sit up straighter and smile.

"Sierra...honey. Well, I supoose you know what day it is today, and what the custom usually is. But...well, me and Leon here have something different to tell you." Sarrah used her husbands' first name, for respect to Sierra's age. As Sierra nodded, Sarrah continued.

"This is quite hard to say honey - but we cannot keep the truth hidden forever. After all, that would be unfair."

Sierra shot Sarrah a strange look, confused at what her mother was saying. According to gossip, this was not how 'Dismissal' or 'Approval' were supposed to go. So what was this?

" are...adopted." The words fell from Sarrah's mouth, followed by a few tears.

What? Adopted?

"B-but how?" Questioned Sierra. The idea was strange, but reasonable. Yet questions still lingered.

"Well, it was sixteen years ago...exactly. Your fath...Leon and I were in Corus picking up a few supplies, foe Wilmné did nto always have all the shops that they have now. Any how, we came across a very important person - we know her as the Protector of the Small, or Lady Knight Kel. She held a baby - yourself - in her arms and was wondering wildly, in almost hysterics. Seeing her, I went to aid, for at first I recognized her only as a common woman. After comforting her, for she was a mere girl of twenty or so, I found that she had no way to care for a young baby, with the Scanran war and all the activities that she so wished to accomplish. A baby was too hard. So...well, conversation turned and soon, about a month later, Kel passed her baby over to us and her only request was to name you Sierra and to return her baby to her when she was sixteen." Sarrah stopped, sobbing back tears, clearly finished.

Sierra blinked, attempting to allow all this new imformation to flow into her mind. Adoption was one thing. But the daughter of the second lady night ever since the Lioness. The daughter of a noble? The daughter of a damn hero? Questions raced through Sierra's mind, confusion and thought. Suddenly remembering that Sarrah and Leon were still in the room, Sierra looked up.

"Who is my dad?" The question was strange, not even something that was floating in her mind.

"Lady Keladry did not say for sure, but I heard 'Dom' a few times. Which probably ment Sir Domatin from Sir Raoul's knights." Sarrah's voice was strange and cracked.

Sierra nodded thoughfully and allowed her mind to take over. She wondered why the news did not frighten her as much as it should. Did she want to leave Wilmné? Of course she did. But did she want to go to Corus? She did not know. She was bad enough with commoners, let alone with nobles! And would her mother want her - even if she had asked to have Sierra back someday. And what would happen?

"So I suppose I have to move to Corus?" Questioned Sierra, feeling slightly bad that she wasn't even showing the small part of doubt to Sarrah and Leon...after all, they had raised her.

"If it is what you wish." It was Leon who spoke, his voice unreadable.

After a few minutes of silence, Sierra spoke.

"So...when do I leave?"