wren horowitz. ten, cb. fin!

wren, 38, heart & soul behind the county fair!

She had thought she might be a school teacher, at one time. Or run for Mayor. Trouble was Wren didn't quite have the stamina for either. A heart in the right place, but falling short at the finish line. Perhaps it was when her father died at nineteen, a terrible blow to her family, deciding to pick up the literal reigns in his place instead of pursue her dreams. She stuck to her gumboots and stitching up holes in her worn-down clothes - assumed she'd be sick of it in a year.

But although the grief eased, something unexpected bloomed in its place. She loved this part of town, the outskirts of Ten where community ran rampant. Folks accepted her as one of their own, because "Horowitz' daughter'll always got a place at our market." She thought she'd tire of the simple life, worn down by early starts and late nights sheparding other people's animals and harvesting crops summer after summer, but instead she found her place. Ratmukkah and Ratmas, celebrated as one in the same. Festival administration, community rallies, spring competitions and local township markets became her life's work, decade after decade - even when the drought struck many she'd always opted to feed others before putting food in her own mouth.

Still, it came as a surprise when the town had unanimously voted for her to host the biggest event District Ten had seen in over 20 years. "Who me?" she had asked, bewildered and watery-eyed. "Who else?" her found family had replied, stars in their eyes.

She thinks her father would have been proud. The rest know he damn well would have been.