She blinked once, then twice. The dust always bothered her sensitive eyes. One pale hand came up to her face, rubbing her eye vigorously. Mother has always told her she would adjust. She hoped it was soon. Her poor eyes were already horribly bloodshot.
A branch scraped the small window across from her and her heart raced, her eyes widening. She hated it up here. Her stomach growled and she sighed, turning her eyes upward to stare at the roof above her. Mother was supposed to be up here ages ago with a meal. She had promised. The girl set a hand on her stomach, feeling the steady vibrations that accompanied its protests. Momentarily, she wondered if she should go down and find Mother, then quickly dismissed the thought. Mother had ordered her to stay here.
The attic shuddered with the wind and the girl lay back, straining her ears to hear what was occurring below. When she heard nothing, she sighed, closing her eyes. Mother told her she would adjust. She hoped it was soon.