Tig Time

Silver
[She is five, her hair is long and silver, like her mother’s. Flashes of childhood, of her parents leaving for war. Images & sounds only, shortest & choppiest sentences]
—
[She is nine, with rough, short hair, to separate from her mother. Longer flashes of a scene on the streets, getting caught stealing bread? Short, choppy sentences, more than just images & sounds: words, smells?]
—
[She’s twelve, her hair is longer, and black like night. Vague scene of her getting caught stealing food yet again. Things fall as she tries to get away, she trips and her leg gets crushed. Better flow here, maybe full sentences, but not a lot of detail. Add in emotions?]
—
[She’s fourteen, and her hair is shoulder-length and brown, nothing unusual. She’s been caught stealing to eat for the last time, and is cast down to the Plains. Her left leg is gone from the knee down, with a peg to fill the space.]
—
[She’s sixteen, with hair frazzled and dirty, but red as fire. She’s in the Plains, part of a triumvirate, their reader. But she’s reminded of the war that her parents left her for.]
—
[She’s twenty-one. Her hair is deep blue and short again. It’s her birthday tonight. But her triumvirate, her family, has lost for the fourth cycle running, unable to send anyone home.]
—
[She’s twenty-four, and her hair is the orange of frustration, but also of hope. She’s only been able to get one of her friends home in all her time as a reader, and that was many cycles past. Her years in the Plains are beginning to show. They’ve found another reader to join them.]
—
[She is twenty-eight. Her hair is golden, resplendent and proud. Their new reader has brought them to victory, two cycles in a row. It’s her time to go home. Her horns have grown, as has she, and they are heavy. It is her birthday, once more.]
—
[She is twenty-nine. Her hair is black as soot. She fled. She cannot stay in the Citadel, the place that took her parents and sent her to die because she stole to live. She’s on a boat to anywhere]
—
[She is thirty. Her hair is red, but of a natural sort. She finds herself in a big city, but it has been ravaged. She’s met a baker, who she strikes a deal with. She’s helping everyone and anyone without a home get by best she can.]
—
[She is thirty one. It is her birthday today. She’s found an old friend again, and new ones too. She has a family again. She knows why her parents left to fight in the war, she knows what it is to have something to fight for. Her hair is silver, like her mothers.]