Requested by the lovely Liz_Danly. This was just one of several requests she made a few weeks back. I'll be working over the course of the next few days to get them all posted because, honestly, the requests were great. I loved them all. Hope you enjoy!

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13th of Frostfall, 4E 192

"Don't scratch, Ylva." For the fourth time that morning, Mama slapped my hand away from my face. Just a few days ago, Papa's friend Raldr had come by the house to remove the stitches in my face. Since then, I hadn't been able to stop scratching the scar. Mama insisted I was only making it worse, but I couldn't help it. It itched so much.

"Sorry, Mama," I said.

"It's all right, dear. Now, hurry up and eat. We have to go to the market today and sell the rest of our harvest."

I nodded, scooped the last of my bland porridge into my mouth, and swallowed. I wiped the back of my hand against my mouth and jumped up from my chair. "Done." Then, I trotted across the house to my bed and chest, pulling aside the privacy curtain so I could change.

As I got dressed into my thicker tunic and leggings, I caught a glimpse of myself in the old looking glass Papa had gotten when he had traded some of his woodwork to one of the Khajiit caravans. I still hadn't gotten used to the raised mark on my face. The scar that ice wolf had left behind. It was a mark I would carry for the rest of my life, a brand, a testament to the ordeal I had survived.

I knew it was silly, but I was embarrassed about the scar. I had to be the only child in Eastmarch who had such a nasty mark on their face. As if the other kids in Windhelm needed another reason to single me out.

To hide the mark, I grabbed one of my scarves and tied it around my face. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it would have to do. I pushed aside the curtain and met with my parents at the door.

Papa smiled down on me, his own new scars twisting. They were not nearly as deep, nor as noticeable. He cupped a hand to my cheek and kissed my forehead. Without me saying anything, he knew exactly what was bothering me. I smiled under my scarf and leaned into his touch.

"Thanks, Papa," I said as we left the house.

"Of course, little pup." We walked to the stable, where Papa had already hitched the wagon full of produce to our mare. Everything we had left was on the cart, and we hoped that we could sell most of it today. Whatever we didn't sell, we would eat, but vegetables only stayed fresh for so long. "You and your mother climb on, now."

Mama and I sat on the back of the wagon, while Papa led the horse out of the gate and onto the road. He walked along beside her, leading her on at a gentle pace. The ride was rough, but it was better than walking.

When we reached Windhelm, Papa paid the stablehand to take care of our horse while we were selling our goods. We all grabbed the baskets and lugged them into the city.

Once we were inside, we headed straight for Candlehearth Hall. We had a deal with the owner, Elda Early-Dawn; we always sold our produce to her first, so she could get the best of the crop. In return, she paid us twenty percent more than our normal asking price, and she always threw in a fresh-baked sweetroll for me.

"Well, look who it is!" said Elda as we came inside. "Little Ylva! I haven't seen you around lately!" She came out from behind the counter and gave me a hug. "I hope your father made sure to give you those sweetrolls I sent with him the last time he came to sell."

I nodded. "He did. They were very good. Thank you."

Then, seeming to notice the scarf I still wore around my face, Elda gently tried to remove it. "It's too warm in here for that, Ylva. Come on."

I pulled away and stood behind my mother, hand over my scarf.

Mama shook her head, expression sympathetic. "My apologies, Elda. I don't know what's gotten into her this morning." Then, she looked down at me. "Why don't you go find some of the other children while we trade with Elda, dear?"

Knowing better than to argue, I nodded and left the inn. I made sure my scarf was secure around my face before I went in search of the Shatter-Shield girls. They and Fjotli Cruel-Sea were the only girls my age in Windhelm, so I didn't have much choice in the way of playmates. If I had the option, I wouldn't spend much time with them. Nilsine and Friga were mean and stuck-up.

After leaving the square and heading to the marketplace, I found them and a couple boys our age getting ready to play tag. I jogged towards them, waving my hand above my head so they would see me. "Wait! Can I play too?"

The twin Shatter-Shield girls sneered at me. "Why do you want to play?"

"Because it's fun?"

"You don't even live here," said one of the boys. His name was Rundor, and he wasn't much better than the Shatter-Shields.

I raised one eyebrow. "So?"

"Come on, just let her play," said Kainr, the other boy. He was a year or two older than the rest of us, but he didn't mind playing with us.

Fjotli nodded. "Yeah, we're wasting time. Let her play."

"Why?" asked Friga as her sister snickered. "She's a dirty farm girl. She never wears dresses."

"That's not true!" I placed my hands on my hips. "I do too wear dresses!"

"I've never seen you in one. It's probably because your parents wish you were a boy!"

"She's too ugly to be a girl, that's for sure," said Nilsine. "Look at that stringy hair!"

My lip quivered, but they couldn't see it. "Take that back."

"She's crying!" jeered Rundor. "Look at her cry!"

Friga stalked up to me, backed me into a corner, and seized my scarf. "If you're not ugly, then why are you wearing this?" She yanked it away, and all the kids in the group gasped.

"Look at that scar!" said Nilsine, the first to snap out of her shock. "She's even uglier than before!"

I tried to get away, but the Shatter-Shields and Rundor stopped me. The boy placed his hands on my shoulders and shoved me down. I yelped as I hit the cold stone, looking to the others for aid. Kainr just turned and walked away, and I had no idea where Fjotli was.

The small group stood over me, pointing and laughing. I scurried backwards on my hands and knees, right into the corner Friga had backed me into earlier. There, I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face.

After awhile, the laughing stopped, and footsteps retreated. I looked up, tears slick on my face, to see only Fjotli standing there, my torn scarf in her hands. She approached me, a gentle look on her face.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop it," she said, using my scarf to wipe my tears away. "Those kids are so mean. They don't understand what it's like to be farmers."

I sniffed. "You don't think I'm ugly, do you?"

She shook her head. "You're beautiful. I wish I looked like you."

"But I have a scar on my face."

"So? I heard how you got it. You survived a wolf attack, and I can promise you that neither of those girls or Rundor could've done that."

Then, from around the corner came my parents, led by Kainr. I couldn't believe he'd gone to get them.

"He told us everything, little pup," said Papa as they came closer. Fjotli stepped aside and let Mama hug me tight.

"Don't listen to those kids, okay?" said Mama, kissing my forehead. Then, she stood, taking me with her. She dusted off my tunic and wiped the remaining tears from my face. "You're going to be okay."

"If you want, you can play with us," said Fjotli. "We can have our own game of tag, just the three of us."

I sniffed, wiping my hand under my nose. "Really?"

"Yeah!" said Kainr. The look on his face was enough to make me forgive him for leaving me to the bullies' wrath. "I didn't really want to play with them, anyway. Those girls are brats and sore losers. They always go running to their parents if I tag them and say that I pushed them down. I can't tell you how many times my pa has beat me because of what their father told him."

I looked up at my parents. "Can I?"

They smiled. "Of course," said Mama. "We're not done trading yet. Go have fun." She took the ruined scarf from Fjotli and held it out to me. "Want this back?"

I shook my head. "I don't need it."

So, with my parents smiling away, I ran after the other kids, laughing and chasing them through Windhelm as we played our own game of tag.