A Little Worn Path

          It was just a little worn path to the south of her house, but it fascinated her.  Her mother always warned her away from it, saying a little worn path into the woods was more likely full of bears than not.  Chera really didn’t care.  One day, she would follow that little brown worn path into the inviting green woods but that day would not be today.  Today was her 10^th year since birth.  Today, she would be accepted into The School, where she would begin her training.          
          In a few years, maybe they would decide what profession she should train.  Or maybe she would stay longer.  There were those who remained at the School until they reached womanhood on their 17^th year.  She approved of those women more than the others, even though her mother was one of the girls sent away early.  The girls who graduated earlier never seemed quite satisfied with their lives, and Chera wanted to exult in hers.          
          She could hear her mother calling her now.  It was finally time to go.  She wasn’t going far, but a journey could never end if it was never begun.  Quickly, she stood up from the gnarly old stump upon which she had been sitting and straightened her pretty pink gown.  It was made of wool—she was used to less expensive fabrics, but no one went to school in old, scratchy clothes.  The dark rich pink of the gown contrasted especially well with her pretty green eyes and soft, dark brown hair.  Or, at least, that is what the seamstresses had told her as they adjusted the cloth around her during her fitting a few short days ago.  Her mother had simply smiled and clasped her father’s hand tightly as they stood side by side watching the fitting progress.       
          Chera's parents didn't own a mirror.  She had never asked why, since having a mirror seemed like a selfish thing, but she couldn't help wishing that she knew what the other girls would see when she entered the School's grounds.