Racing through the reeds was easy for Amythra. The marsh surrounded the island all over the north-east edge and everyone knew about it, but Amythra especially coveted it for the privacy it provided. As such, she spent most of her youth dodging through the reeds. Marvate knew this, but her pride was an easy handle to grasp and pull her back home.
The sublings darted past the reeds, Marvate occasionally smacking forehead first into the strong straw plants, but Amythra hardly even touched them as she threaded through. The old weaver who made rugs for father on the south side of Jerrow showed Amythra once how each thread moves back and forth around each other, and the girl saw herself as the tip of the string in the marsh. Back and forth, one had forward, barely bending the plants on her path through. Unlike her brother, she was running.
Marvate only had memory. Memory of where the solid parts of the ground were, but these reeds were impenetrable. Eventually, he pushed through the last of the forest to his sister waiting, arms cross and smirking. He bent down to catch his breath and laughed. "You move like a marsh rat."
Amythra shook her rolled up papyrus at her brother. "Tsk Tsk. I want the white handle you made last week."
"Ha. Take it. I'll not need it anymore. We both need to get home anyway. You'll have it there."
"Not need it? But..."
Marvate laughed and lifted his sister up in the air. She flailed ungratefully. "I've been invited to join the Colonial Army! They're letting me fight, Amy!"