Rissa Cavela, born Clarissa Elisabeth Cavela, was the only child of Domus and Margaret Cavela of Ricovia Province. She was the only heir to one of the biggest ranches in the province. As a young girl, she was spoiled with loving attention from two happy and affectionate parents. She has fond memories of picnic parties, riding horses, big parties and bigger presents; however, this childhood bliss was not to last.
When Rissa was just five years young, her mother contracted an aggressive form of ovarian cancer that confined her to bed and ultimately took her life. Rissa’s father became obsessed with curing his beloved wife, shutting out everyone, including his daughter. Those were rough years for Rissa, and she found herself more and more isolated in her own home. It was during these years that a small seed of independence gained a foothold that would see her through troubled times to come. For the first time in her young life, she had to find her own forms of entertainment.
Rissa turned to reading novels and exploring the vast estate owned by her parents. Although they had often rode about the estate together, they typically stuck to known paths and familiar destinations. Her family’s estate covered thousands of square miles, and she would venture into the lesser traveled regions. She met ranch hands and workers and gained an appreciation for the conventional way of life. More than once, one of these hands found her lost in some back corner of the estate and guided her home to a less-than-appreciative father. Rissa, however, never forgot their kindness.
Rissa’s mother passed when she was eleven. After six long years of suffering, Domus transferred much of his obsession to Rissa, though the kindness and happiness she had known never returned. While Rissa was appreciative at the renewed attention, something about her father’s newly returned affections terrified her. Something about them seemed vengeful and definitely disproportionate.
For an example, during her seventh year, she came home with a report card showing she got a B in composition. He praised her as if she got a 4.0 GPA for the year. He threw a big party for both her friends and friends of the family. However, during the party, he made a comment about her mother not getting to share in the achievement. The sting of that comment stayed with her for the rest of her life, along with all the other passing comments and side-long glances. Part of her always wondered if he blamed her for Margaret’s death. While it made no sense to blame her for a cancer that developed years after birth, extreme grief is seldom rational.