Casters of Doovrik

  • One

  • Narrator

    The fragrant sweet scent of her namesake drifted through the cracks of the closed window.

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  • Meg inhaled the spice, gradually and deeply, just as she awoke every morning.

  • Nutmeg had always been familiar to her.

  • She pushed back the thin blanket on her bed and swung her legs over the side.

  • Meg blinked as the sun’s rays poured into her bedroom, the soft golden light illuminating the space.

  • It took her a moment to adjust to it.

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    Clove

    “Cut it out,”

  • Narrator

    Clove grumbled from the corner, tossing and turning on his mattress, trying to block the sunlight from reaching his face.

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  • Profile Picture of Clove in Casters of Doovrik

    Clove

    “I’m trying to sleep over here.”

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    Meg

    “You’d better push the cart into town before Pa wakes up,”

  • Narrator

    Meg responded.

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  • Profile Picture of Meg in Casters of Doovrik

    Meg

    “Otherwise, he won’t be too happy.”

  • Narrator

    Clove chucked a pillow at her, and she grinned, catching it in the air before sending it straight back at him.

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  • Profile Picture of Clove in Casters of Doovrik

    Clove

    “Hey!”

  • Narrator

    he exclaimed through the feather pillow.

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  • Profile Picture of Clove in Casters of Doovrik

    Clove

    “All right, I’m up!

  • I’m up.”

  • Clove straightened his blanket on the bed and bounded toward the door to leave, but then stopped to rub the top of Meg’s head, making her hair stick out in all sorts of directions.

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    Meg

    “Hey!