Once upon a time…I know, cliche’. After all , who begins stories like that any more?
Well, I am and here we go….

Once upon a time there was a young girl just short of her twelfth Natal Day. Her name was Christine. She was a comely child with long, straight, light brown hair. The golden streaks that framed her face ran into a messy braid that fell down her back. Her mother had her attendants lay out lovely dresses and bodices, along with pretty hair bows for her to wear each day. But Christine preferred the leather deerskin breeches and quilted tunics of her younger brother, Eoin. He was a bit larger than she was, despite being two years her junior. She liked that her bloomers fit nicely under them, preventing any chaffing when riding. And Riding was all she wanted to do.
She was not at all interested in the needlework and etiquette instruction she was forced to endure. Her mother would chide her when she would complain, saying all young ladies her age where expected to be well versed in these virtues.