There hasn't been a post in nearly a week. Why? Crane has been busy. In fact, she's also busy today. I am not busy, have not been busy, and probably will not ever be truly busy. The fact of the matter is, I have no life.
So Crane asked me to write the next post. And I will. But just so I don't deprive her of a post, she'll just get to write two in a row next time.
Well, I guess that's that. I'd better get to typing.
Farewell, my non-existent readers.
~Beads
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
post 3
Honey growled an affirmation. With shaking hands, Cassia wrapped up the remainder of the meat and fruit and packed it away. A quick glance at the main road showed that it was no more busy than it had when she first arrived. With a shaking hand, she traced the route. There were only five miles to Millea, and a few more miles to the crossroads.
“Wanna walk, Honey?” Honey was restless, scratching and woofing at the ground. But when Cassia began to walk, Honey stopped, shaking her head vigorously. Despite the tension that she felt, Cassia laughed at Honey’s antics. She picked Honey up and put her in the sling. She continued walking, staying in the safety of the trees, skirting the road and the river with equal caution.
As she walked, her thoughts kept straying to the mermaid in the river. “Perhaps the blood hasn’t been spilt just yet,” she had said. Cassia shuddered. The mermaids were masters of deception and fear. Perhaps the mermaid was merely hungry and hoped for Cassia to become terrified enough as to stray too near the river. Then it could feast on her blood. It was just a trick, a ploy. Yet her mind turned towards the words of her tutor and nurse, Thya. “When the mermaid makes a prediction, my child, you would do well to heed them, for though they are deceptive and manipulative, the mermaid has a strange propensity towards prophecy.” Cassia shook her mind free. Stop it, she told herself. She was just goading you, and you need to remain vigilant.
For a while she forced herself to focus on her journey, taking in the silent river and the shivering, crisp needles that threw striped shadows over the moist, untreaded earth. After a mile the river turned away from the road, narrowing towards the east, closer to the spring where it formed. As Cassia turned away from it in farewell, she thought she saw a glimmer of a scale, but she told herself it was just a wink from the crest of the small waves that flowed down the river.
Cassia sighed, annoyed with her paranoia. She knew that she was acting like a coward. Real heroes, her father often said, reasoned with their fears, and won. They were strong, both from will and necessity. The fearful had minds that were constantly clouded by fear and doubt, which grayed their reasoning and dulled their senses; the valiant knew their worth and their message, and utilized their wit and their resources. The brave sharpened their senses in the face of danger; the timid hid their faces when confronted with excitement. Never be a coward, he’d use to say to his children. The world is littered such people, who are manipulated by the powerful. Heroes are free to shape their world as they’d like. Cassia glanced down at Honey. “You think I could be a hero?”
Honey just met her eyes with her own liquid brown. Then she stiffened, a throaty growl emanating from her muzzle. Cassia instinctively shrank behind a trees. The bark was crumbling and gritty to the touch; the moist smell was laced with something metallic. The brisk clopping of horses and the crack of a whip cut through the eerie silence of the road. Cassia huddled in the shadows. A squad of six to eight horsemen leaned against their horses, urging the lathered mounts to greater speeds. Each man wore a calf length, nondescript coat, but the speed and the rise and fall of their motion revealed the black, white buttoned uniform – the uniform of Arche’s national army. Buckled at their side were stained and naked broadswords. Honey’s ears went back. Cassia stroked her head with trembling hands. Mentally she urged Honey to remain silent. The men passed by within a few armlengths.
“How are you holding up, Gartos?” one of the men yelled to his companion.
With a start, Cassia recognized the dark stain the darkened the dun coat of one of the army men.
“Think you can hold up until the town, Gartos?” Another man called.
“Or will we have to leave you at the edge to nurse your hurt while we do the real work?”
The wounded man, with thick, dark hair that curled over his suntanned head raised a hand and made a rude gesture at the speaker. The rest of the men roared with laughter.
Cassia felt the cool clench of dread fill her again. The town? Which town? She darted through the trees, reckless assurance telling her that the men would not notice her darting through the trees.
“Mer-whores rot you,” Gartos cursed at his companions, his voice gruff with pain. Cassia ran quickly and easily, having been trained by a retired hand-combat specialist since she was twelve. “I’ll hold up well enough.” She knew that she could not keep up with galloping horses for long, but she needed to find out where they were going, and where they came from.
“That’s my man!” A blond-bearded man galloped up to Gartos and slapped his back as he passed. Gartos roared in pain and spat at the rider. Cassia felt a stitch flare up her side. Where are you going? She wondered desperately. A wayward branch flicked her in the side of the face, and she stumbled to a stop. The riders, still whooping and rowdy, quickly thundered out of sight.
Despite her wish to collapse in the dirt at the foot of a tree, Cassia forced herself to keep moving to keep her leg muscles from cramping up. Honey, who had clung to the sling and Cassia’s tunic with her claws during the sprint, barked reproachfully. “Sorry,” Cassia puffed, jogging now. She figured that she had about a mile left until she would reach her sister’s village.
She forced her trembling legs into a steady rhythm. The sturdy beat felt good after that chaotic sprint. It was like the pounding of a drum, much like the one back home, which the head manservant at her house used to announce visitors whenever her father was receiving important guests. Theo, still fairly young and strongly built, would seize the large batons that he beat against the leather casing, once, twice, and thrice. Then he would announce the name of the visitor in a deep booming voice that could almost be mistaken for a fourth drum beat. The doors would be thrown open, and the visitor would strut in to the great dining room table, formally acknowledging her father. A slight silence would prevail for a few moments, the last procedures dictated by Archean tradition. Then father and the guest would guffaw together, the lucky fifth beat, and sit down to a hearty meal.
Cassia smiled grimly as she crested a small hill and began the downward trek that branched from the main road, where the ocean cut into the earth to create the narrow harbor peopled by the fisher folk of Millea. Cassia slowed, then reduced her pace to a walk as she neared the edge of the trees. She paused at the last of them, scanning the village carefully. Still on an elevated area, the entire gathering of huts and buildings were laid out like a map.
The road that trailed to Millea was empty, but perhaps that was to be expected, given the lack of traffic on the main road. Millea contained no defensive walls, so the road merely paused at the sign that read WELCOME TO MILLEA, and then continued past the post office and three story inn the Prongfish. Then it wound past shops and houses , bundled around the healer’s cabin, before thinning out into a dusty trail that looped around the fishermen’s huts until it reached the sturdy dock. Arche, being mostly landlocked, housed few navy vessels in the harbor, so only a handful of dawdling wooden, net-laden sea crafts populated the dock.
Cassia could make out the tiny movements of the few fishermen that remained on the beach. It seemed that the horsemen had not been headed for Millea, at least not for long. “Think it’s safe?” she asked Honey. Honey made no reply at all, but fastened her eyes on the serene town.
Cassia licked her lips, and felt her water flask at her side. Its meager contents sloshed weakly. She needed water, in any case, and she wanted to meet with her sister. Archia, though in many ways Cassia’s opposite, had nonetheless completed many successful missions before eloping, and had always helped Cassia. And Cassia needed this, as tendrils of foreboding continued to needle at her resolve. The abnormalities: the empty main road, the early Witching migration, the mermaid’s prediction, and the army horse riders. She could not help feeling that there was something more serious stirring beneath the simplicity of her errand.
“Wanna walk, Honey?” Honey was restless, scratching and woofing at the ground. But when Cassia began to walk, Honey stopped, shaking her head vigorously. Despite the tension that she felt, Cassia laughed at Honey’s antics. She picked Honey up and put her in the sling. She continued walking, staying in the safety of the trees, skirting the road and the river with equal caution.
As she walked, her thoughts kept straying to the mermaid in the river. “Perhaps the blood hasn’t been spilt just yet,” she had said. Cassia shuddered. The mermaids were masters of deception and fear. Perhaps the mermaid was merely hungry and hoped for Cassia to become terrified enough as to stray too near the river. Then it could feast on her blood. It was just a trick, a ploy. Yet her mind turned towards the words of her tutor and nurse, Thya. “When the mermaid makes a prediction, my child, you would do well to heed them, for though they are deceptive and manipulative, the mermaid has a strange propensity towards prophecy.” Cassia shook her mind free. Stop it, she told herself. She was just goading you, and you need to remain vigilant.
For a while she forced herself to focus on her journey, taking in the silent river and the shivering, crisp needles that threw striped shadows over the moist, untreaded earth. After a mile the river turned away from the road, narrowing towards the east, closer to the spring where it formed. As Cassia turned away from it in farewell, she thought she saw a glimmer of a scale, but she told herself it was just a wink from the crest of the small waves that flowed down the river.
Cassia sighed, annoyed with her paranoia. She knew that she was acting like a coward. Real heroes, her father often said, reasoned with their fears, and won. They were strong, both from will and necessity. The fearful had minds that were constantly clouded by fear and doubt, which grayed their reasoning and dulled their senses; the valiant knew their worth and their message, and utilized their wit and their resources. The brave sharpened their senses in the face of danger; the timid hid their faces when confronted with excitement. Never be a coward, he’d use to say to his children. The world is littered such people, who are manipulated by the powerful. Heroes are free to shape their world as they’d like. Cassia glanced down at Honey. “You think I could be a hero?”
Honey just met her eyes with her own liquid brown. Then she stiffened, a throaty growl emanating from her muzzle. Cassia instinctively shrank behind a trees. The bark was crumbling and gritty to the touch; the moist smell was laced with something metallic. The brisk clopping of horses and the crack of a whip cut through the eerie silence of the road. Cassia huddled in the shadows. A squad of six to eight horsemen leaned against their horses, urging the lathered mounts to greater speeds. Each man wore a calf length, nondescript coat, but the speed and the rise and fall of their motion revealed the black, white buttoned uniform – the uniform of Arche’s national army. Buckled at their side were stained and naked broadswords. Honey’s ears went back. Cassia stroked her head with trembling hands. Mentally she urged Honey to remain silent. The men passed by within a few armlengths.
“How are you holding up, Gartos?” one of the men yelled to his companion.
With a start, Cassia recognized the dark stain the darkened the dun coat of one of the army men.
“Think you can hold up until the town, Gartos?” Another man called.
“Or will we have to leave you at the edge to nurse your hurt while we do the real work?”
The wounded man, with thick, dark hair that curled over his suntanned head raised a hand and made a rude gesture at the speaker. The rest of the men roared with laughter.
Cassia felt the cool clench of dread fill her again. The town? Which town? She darted through the trees, reckless assurance telling her that the men would not notice her darting through the trees.
“Mer-whores rot you,” Gartos cursed at his companions, his voice gruff with pain. Cassia ran quickly and easily, having been trained by a retired hand-combat specialist since she was twelve. “I’ll hold up well enough.” She knew that she could not keep up with galloping horses for long, but she needed to find out where they were going, and where they came from.
“That’s my man!” A blond-bearded man galloped up to Gartos and slapped his back as he passed. Gartos roared in pain and spat at the rider. Cassia felt a stitch flare up her side. Where are you going? She wondered desperately. A wayward branch flicked her in the side of the face, and she stumbled to a stop. The riders, still whooping and rowdy, quickly thundered out of sight.
Despite her wish to collapse in the dirt at the foot of a tree, Cassia forced herself to keep moving to keep her leg muscles from cramping up. Honey, who had clung to the sling and Cassia’s tunic with her claws during the sprint, barked reproachfully. “Sorry,” Cassia puffed, jogging now. She figured that she had about a mile left until she would reach her sister’s village.
She forced her trembling legs into a steady rhythm. The sturdy beat felt good after that chaotic sprint. It was like the pounding of a drum, much like the one back home, which the head manservant at her house used to announce visitors whenever her father was receiving important guests. Theo, still fairly young and strongly built, would seize the large batons that he beat against the leather casing, once, twice, and thrice. Then he would announce the name of the visitor in a deep booming voice that could almost be mistaken for a fourth drum beat. The doors would be thrown open, and the visitor would strut in to the great dining room table, formally acknowledging her father. A slight silence would prevail for a few moments, the last procedures dictated by Archean tradition. Then father and the guest would guffaw together, the lucky fifth beat, and sit down to a hearty meal.
Cassia smiled grimly as she crested a small hill and began the downward trek that branched from the main road, where the ocean cut into the earth to create the narrow harbor peopled by the fisher folk of Millea. Cassia slowed, then reduced her pace to a walk as she neared the edge of the trees. She paused at the last of them, scanning the village carefully. Still on an elevated area, the entire gathering of huts and buildings were laid out like a map.
The road that trailed to Millea was empty, but perhaps that was to be expected, given the lack of traffic on the main road. Millea contained no defensive walls, so the road merely paused at the sign that read WELCOME TO MILLEA, and then continued past the post office and three story inn the Prongfish. Then it wound past shops and houses , bundled around the healer’s cabin, before thinning out into a dusty trail that looped around the fishermen’s huts until it reached the sturdy dock. Arche, being mostly landlocked, housed few navy vessels in the harbor, so only a handful of dawdling wooden, net-laden sea crafts populated the dock.
Cassia could make out the tiny movements of the few fishermen that remained on the beach. It seemed that the horsemen had not been headed for Millea, at least not for long. “Think it’s safe?” she asked Honey. Honey made no reply at all, but fastened her eyes on the serene town.
Cassia licked her lips, and felt her water flask at her side. Its meager contents sloshed weakly. She needed water, in any case, and she wanted to meet with her sister. Archia, though in many ways Cassia’s opposite, had nonetheless completed many successful missions before eloping, and had always helped Cassia. And Cassia needed this, as tendrils of foreboding continued to needle at her resolve. The abnormalities: the empty main road, the early Witching migration, the mermaid’s prediction, and the army horse riders. She could not help feeling that there was something more serious stirring beneath the simplicity of her errand.
Post 2
Honey barked, and Cassie shushed her, holding her closely in the sling against her chest.
“Sh, Honey. It’s okay.” Honey huffed quietly and motioned to a group of cloaked figures with her nose. In the weak dawn light, Cassie could barely tell the difference from one figure to another. As she looked, one of the figures turned toward her and waved to the dog. Little known to Cassie, it was the witch from before, reminding Honey of her warning.
“They’re moving already? It’s not their migration season yet.” Cassie mused, still hiding behind one of the trees. “Though that would explain why we were already in their territory…” Cassie sighed. Who was she, a lone teenager year old, to question when the Witches would meet with the Wizards to mate?
Cassie continued down the path, walking within the forest as opposed to the trail. She didn’t want any surprises. Eventually she felt comfortable enough to put Honey down.
The dog was a gift from her father on her fifteenth birthday. Since Cassia was becoming a woman, it was time for her to learn responsibility, he said. Honey had become her sole confident. Cassie’s eldest brother, Thad, had become a scholar in the city of Keshia, the capital of Arche, where their parents resided. Because of this, he was able to stay close to the family, and was still their father’s favorite.
Soon the sun was high in the sky, and Cassia still could not see the small fisherman village of Millea, her destination for the afternoon, before she reached the crossroads. They had a small inn there for their limited range of visitors, where Cassia had once stayed with her father and mother during Archia’s wedding, and she hoped to get some fresh nourishment there.
Archia, Cassia’s only sister, had married a wealthy sailor in the town, though they mostly spent their time on the sea, free from obligations or parental control. Archia had always been the more adventurous of the two sisters. She was content to merely be with her now husband, as opposed to having a lawful marriage. Mother and Father had raced to Millea to insist that she be married. She consented, and now, at nineteen, she had sent word to them that she was with child. However, due to the stressful situation, no one had been able to visit her yet. Cassia looked forward to someday seeing her niece or nephew, but for now satisfied herself taking care of her younger brother.
Padrig was the light of the family. His small, round face brought joy to anyone who held him. At five, now, he would follow his older brother everywhere, including on whatever mission Mother had sent him on. His nurse, Merle, was about nineteen, and equally as infatuated with Thad, so she was willing to take the younger Graystone anywhere.
Cassia sighed. Thinking of her family made her homesick, even if it had only been a couple of days. Her stomach growled, not for the first time that hour, and began looking for a nice clearing to sit and eat in.
The woods that the girl was hiding in began to thin, and soon a river began to follow the curve of the edge of the trees. Cassia chose a leafy tree to relax under. She took off her pack, which held her sleeping gear, a change of clothes, and enough food to last a couple of days. She also removed honey from the sling and allowed her to stretch on the grass that the river’s water created. Cassia took out dried fruit and meat from her pack, handing Honey her portion, and then leaning against the tree to relax.
She wondered about where her brothers had been sent. No doubt to some of Father’s more esteemed friends, who would back him in a diplomatic setting or on a battlefield. Mother was probably at home, making the beds in the guest rooms and cooking an abundance of food for the visitors, who would help Father. And Father? He was most likely finding allies within the city, people he had done favors for, whether by lending them money, finding them a precious commodity, or saving their house from a thief. Maybe he was even trying to convince the Tempest Council’s Army members not to strike against him, through threats or bribing. Unless he had been hurt in the attempt…
Honey nosed Cassia’s hand, waking her from this morbid thought. A low splashing had begun in the river, the type fish or serpents made before they attacked.
Honey barked gruffly. “What do you think it is?” No sooner had the question left her mouth, before the creature rose from the tide.
A high pitched laugh emitted from the creature’s throat, and it smiled at her. It was a mermaid, a siren, a creature of the rivers and lakes of this land. The top half of her body was a pale human female, covered only by the plant life in found in the sea. The bottom half was a long tail, scaly and slimy like the raw fish they consumed. Her face, beautiful as it may have been, held ruby red eyes that pulsed as she spoke. And her voice was beautiful, almost songlike, only to hide the evil within.
“Hello, young traveler.” She whispered. “What brings you to these waters?” Her skin appeared blue in the reflecting waters.
Cassia looked down at Honey, who seemed to relax when the siren didn’t come any closer to her master. She merely leaned against the side of the river, casually conversing with the human girl.
“I’m just going to the crossroads, and stopped for a break.” Cassia said cautiously, not moving at all. A mermaid could be very dangerous in the wrong circumstances. However, neither Cassia nor Honey was wounded, or bleeding from any source, so it appeared that they would be safe this time.
“I thought I smelled spilt blood. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” The red eyes glimmered and the mermaid licked her lips, revealing her sharp teeth. They were a seductive creature by nature, it was their songs and bodies that called sailors to the rocks on the shore, and called them to their deaths.
Cassia debated telling the truth. Finally, she realized it would not hurt her in any way to give the siren a little information.
“A cart past me while the sun was still low. It looked to be carrying a dead passenger.”
“Too long ago. This scent was fresh.” The mermaid had a spark in her eye, and smiled at the girl. “You said you were headed for the crossroads?” Cassia didn’t say anything, she just nodded. “Strange, don’t the Arnet usually pass that way this time of year?” She nodded again. “Ah.” The mermaid began to move backwards, into the deeper waters of the river. “Then perhaps the blood hasn’t been spilled just yet. I’ll find you again, traveler.” With that, she dived forward. Cassia saw her tail flip into the air, then she was gone.
There was a heavy layer of fear still in the air, even on a bright, sunny day. Finally, Honey barked, and walked back over to their pack.
“Well, it looks like we have a story to tell Mother now, don’t we?” Cassia said, breathing slowly to calm her racing heart.
“Sh, Honey. It’s okay.” Honey huffed quietly and motioned to a group of cloaked figures with her nose. In the weak dawn light, Cassie could barely tell the difference from one figure to another. As she looked, one of the figures turned toward her and waved to the dog. Little known to Cassie, it was the witch from before, reminding Honey of her warning.
“They’re moving already? It’s not their migration season yet.” Cassie mused, still hiding behind one of the trees. “Though that would explain why we were already in their territory…” Cassie sighed. Who was she, a lone teenager year old, to question when the Witches would meet with the Wizards to mate?
Cassie continued down the path, walking within the forest as opposed to the trail. She didn’t want any surprises. Eventually she felt comfortable enough to put Honey down.
The dog was a gift from her father on her fifteenth birthday. Since Cassia was becoming a woman, it was time for her to learn responsibility, he said. Honey had become her sole confident. Cassie’s eldest brother, Thad, had become a scholar in the city of Keshia, the capital of Arche, where their parents resided. Because of this, he was able to stay close to the family, and was still their father’s favorite.
Soon the sun was high in the sky, and Cassia still could not see the small fisherman village of Millea, her destination for the afternoon, before she reached the crossroads. They had a small inn there for their limited range of visitors, where Cassia had once stayed with her father and mother during Archia’s wedding, and she hoped to get some fresh nourishment there.
Archia, Cassia’s only sister, had married a wealthy sailor in the town, though they mostly spent their time on the sea, free from obligations or parental control. Archia had always been the more adventurous of the two sisters. She was content to merely be with her now husband, as opposed to having a lawful marriage. Mother and Father had raced to Millea to insist that she be married. She consented, and now, at nineteen, she had sent word to them that she was with child. However, due to the stressful situation, no one had been able to visit her yet. Cassia looked forward to someday seeing her niece or nephew, but for now satisfied herself taking care of her younger brother.
Padrig was the light of the family. His small, round face brought joy to anyone who held him. At five, now, he would follow his older brother everywhere, including on whatever mission Mother had sent him on. His nurse, Merle, was about nineteen, and equally as infatuated with Thad, so she was willing to take the younger Graystone anywhere.
Cassia sighed. Thinking of her family made her homesick, even if it had only been a couple of days. Her stomach growled, not for the first time that hour, and began looking for a nice clearing to sit and eat in.
The woods that the girl was hiding in began to thin, and soon a river began to follow the curve of the edge of the trees. Cassia chose a leafy tree to relax under. She took off her pack, which held her sleeping gear, a change of clothes, and enough food to last a couple of days. She also removed honey from the sling and allowed her to stretch on the grass that the river’s water created. Cassia took out dried fruit and meat from her pack, handing Honey her portion, and then leaning against the tree to relax.
She wondered about where her brothers had been sent. No doubt to some of Father’s more esteemed friends, who would back him in a diplomatic setting or on a battlefield. Mother was probably at home, making the beds in the guest rooms and cooking an abundance of food for the visitors, who would help Father. And Father? He was most likely finding allies within the city, people he had done favors for, whether by lending them money, finding them a precious commodity, or saving their house from a thief. Maybe he was even trying to convince the Tempest Council’s Army members not to strike against him, through threats or bribing. Unless he had been hurt in the attempt…
Honey nosed Cassia’s hand, waking her from this morbid thought. A low splashing had begun in the river, the type fish or serpents made before they attacked.
Honey barked gruffly. “What do you think it is?” No sooner had the question left her mouth, before the creature rose from the tide.
A high pitched laugh emitted from the creature’s throat, and it smiled at her. It was a mermaid, a siren, a creature of the rivers and lakes of this land. The top half of her body was a pale human female, covered only by the plant life in found in the sea. The bottom half was a long tail, scaly and slimy like the raw fish they consumed. Her face, beautiful as it may have been, held ruby red eyes that pulsed as she spoke. And her voice was beautiful, almost songlike, only to hide the evil within.
“Hello, young traveler.” She whispered. “What brings you to these waters?” Her skin appeared blue in the reflecting waters.
Cassia looked down at Honey, who seemed to relax when the siren didn’t come any closer to her master. She merely leaned against the side of the river, casually conversing with the human girl.
“I’m just going to the crossroads, and stopped for a break.” Cassia said cautiously, not moving at all. A mermaid could be very dangerous in the wrong circumstances. However, neither Cassia nor Honey was wounded, or bleeding from any source, so it appeared that they would be safe this time.
“I thought I smelled spilt blood. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” The red eyes glimmered and the mermaid licked her lips, revealing her sharp teeth. They were a seductive creature by nature, it was their songs and bodies that called sailors to the rocks on the shore, and called them to their deaths.
Cassia debated telling the truth. Finally, she realized it would not hurt her in any way to give the siren a little information.
“A cart past me while the sun was still low. It looked to be carrying a dead passenger.”
“Too long ago. This scent was fresh.” The mermaid had a spark in her eye, and smiled at the girl. “You said you were headed for the crossroads?” Cassia didn’t say anything, she just nodded. “Strange, don’t the Arnet usually pass that way this time of year?” She nodded again. “Ah.” The mermaid began to move backwards, into the deeper waters of the river. “Then perhaps the blood hasn’t been spilled just yet. I’ll find you again, traveler.” With that, she dived forward. Cassia saw her tail flip into the air, then she was gone.
There was a heavy layer of fear still in the air, even on a bright, sunny day. Finally, Honey barked, and walked back over to their pack.
“Well, it looks like we have a story to tell Mother now, don’t we?” Cassia said, breathing slowly to calm her racing heart.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
post 1
Honey barked. Her creamy white fur bristled, a sharp contrast to it normal soft feel. At regular intervals Honey’s barking ceases and a low growl tore from her throat, breaking off into a high whine, then resume as a gruff bark. The taut muscles in her back leg bunched, and she sprang. Her leap carried her several feet, and she landed lightly, puffs of gritty sand dancing away from her paws. The snake hissed, its copper eyes glaring balefully at the dog. Honey gave a threatening growl. Then she stepped off the snake and watched it carefully.
Silver and bronze scales writhed, and the outline blurred. Within seconds the snake was replaced by a silver skinned woman clothed in a dusty shift, her copper eyes gleaming. Her breath came raggedly, as if she had been running for the past hour. “You’re a long way from where you should be, my four legged friend,” she told the dog, her breath catching on each word with a slight lisp. Honey stopped barking, but her short, triangle ears still pressed against her skull. Her wide brown eyes were hard. The woman held out her empty palms. “I mean no threat…” She raised her eyes to the sleeping form a little ways away. “…ah.” She met Honey’s eyes. “You would do well to warn your friend when she wakes. This is Witching territory…and not all of my kind would be as tolerant as I.” She smiled humorlessly at the stoic guardian, and turned on her heel. “Good night.” Again her form distorted, and the snake reformed, several feet above the dusty earth. Its long coils worked in the night breeze, and before it hit the ground, was borne upwards, over the scrubby bushes, and faded into the dark night.
Honey watched the witch go with vigilant eyes. She turned one tear-shaped eye to the bundle that was her owner, and padded over. She carefully nosed a slack hand. The form mumbled incoherently and sat up slowly. Mussed brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. Sad brown eyes blinked owlishly over a sharp nose and a wry mouth. A thin fingered hand reached up and brushed away some hair. “Barking at the moon again, Honey?” The girl stroked Honey’s head bemusedly and affectionately. Honey shook the hand away and yipped once, softly. The girl’s lazy smile faded and she frowned. “An intruder? Show me, please.”
Honey trotted back to where he had encountered the witch. The girl hurriedly gathered up her large quilt, stuffing it in the pack that she used as a pillow. She slung a strap over her shoulder and padded up to Honey. The tell tale slither marks and the signs of the scuffle were marked in the dirt.
The girl raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe I slept through that,” her voice was awed. “A witch? You must have been barking your head off, Honey.”
Honey let out a breath that rushed through her teeth like a sigh. The girl looked down apologetically. “I know, I know, not the point” She shook her head. “I had no idea that we’d entered the Witching.” She squinted up at the fading stars, then pulled a crumpled map from the pocket of her tunic. In loose, sepia trousers and a matching shirt and tunic, she blended well with the surrounding scrubland.
Honey lay down, resting her head on her paws as she waited. The girl tapped her fingers on her thigh as she thought. She slowly turned to her right. “If we cut through the Witching, we can find the main road, then follow it to the crossroads, where we can rendezvous with the Armet.”
Honey snorted. The girl leveled her gaze at Honey. “Come on, it’s almost dawn. And everyone knows witches can’t bite in daylight.” Honey rose to her paws resignedly and walked alongside the girl.
The brittle bushes dragged along Honey’s fur and the girl’s pants. By the time the sun had cleared the horizon, the two had left the scrublands and joined with a small trail. The girl had picked Honey up and slung her in a piece of cloth, where she at a piece of dried meat and dozed against the girl’s chest.
The girl’s eyes flickered constantly. Her movements, though fluid and graceful, were wary, and ready. In the distance a copse of trees marked the end of the Witching and the beginning of the Arche’s main road. Her boots quickened their pace as she heard a whisper behind her. Her eyes darted behind her, and saw nothing. In the calm night, she had been lulled into feeling safe. But in stark sunlight, she was vulnerable, easily spotted. She forced herself to relax. Breathe, she told herself. She straightened her shoulders a little. She shouldn’t be fearful. Her family was famous for their bravery. She hoped that she, Cassia, could uphold that.
She passed the copse, the brief shade cooling her fears slightly. She stopped. The main road, normally busy with at least a few pedestrians and horsemen passing constantly, was silent. A cool bead of dread dripped down her stomach. They couldn’t have… She felt a prickle of relief as she heard the clops of a horse and the clatter of a cart.
Still, Cassia pressed back into the shadows of trees as it passed. She squinted at the cart, which was covered with a rusty brown cloth. A hand dangled under the edge of the covering. She sat down hard, her mind reeling with shock. She tried to convince herself that the cart was simply a burial cart from a healing camp, or something. But in her mind’s eye, the events of yesterday took on a morbid significance.
Her father, an influential merchant and soldier, and a good friend with many in the small country, was an outspoken critic of Counselor Tempest, one of the council of three that ruled Arche. At first, supported by popular opinion, the council members and her father had met several times, publicly and privately to resolve issues. But a week ago, Counselor Tempest had died, and his successor was his son, a younger, more volatile personality. He his stubborn tactics had overruled the other two council members.
Then yesterday: “Cassia,” her mother had said casually, as she watched her youngest daughter go through her morning stretches. “I need you to run an errand for me.”
Cassia had slowly eased into straight stance, listening to her mother’s instructions. “Your father wants to send word to several of his friends, to try to see if they can’t reason with the young Tempest.”
“So what can I do, mother?” Cassia had asked.
“Well, I have sent Thad and the others to [insert place names], so I thought that you could travel to Archet Town to send a message to the Armet.”
Cassia looked surprised that father wanted to contact one of the strongest militia groups in Arche. “The Armet? Is father so ready for war?”
Her mother smiled wearily. “We believe that it’s best to be prepared. We don’t yet know what young Tempest is capable of.” A shadow of worry crossed her face. “Will you be alright?”
Cassia straightened. She had never been granted a mission alone before, though she had traveled twice before with her older brother. “I will be, mother. I am almost sixteen.”
Her mother had hugged her fiercely. “I know, but you are still the youngest, and,” she hesitated and lowered her voice a little. “I’m afraid, sometimes that yoru father is aggravating the situation. I am afraid that Arche will return to how it was during the Great Wars.”
I shuddered. The Great Wars, which had happened the decade before my mother was born, had left the country in tatters. The Witches, fairies, elves, and dragons were even more decimated than humans. The council had been established to make sure nothing like that would ever happen again. Another war like that could not happen so soon…could it?
It was then that she began to be afraid. “Could I bring Honey?” He voice had come out higher than she had intended it to.
Her mother nodded, “Of course. Bring Honey. And keep her close.”
Cassia snapped herself back to the present. The dead in that cart could be anyone, she told herself. In any case, her mission was to inform the Armet. There, she could borrow a horse and find her family.
Silver and bronze scales writhed, and the outline blurred. Within seconds the snake was replaced by a silver skinned woman clothed in a dusty shift, her copper eyes gleaming. Her breath came raggedly, as if she had been running for the past hour. “You’re a long way from where you should be, my four legged friend,” she told the dog, her breath catching on each word with a slight lisp. Honey stopped barking, but her short, triangle ears still pressed against her skull. Her wide brown eyes were hard. The woman held out her empty palms. “I mean no threat…” She raised her eyes to the sleeping form a little ways away. “…ah.” She met Honey’s eyes. “You would do well to warn your friend when she wakes. This is Witching territory…and not all of my kind would be as tolerant as I.” She smiled humorlessly at the stoic guardian, and turned on her heel. “Good night.” Again her form distorted, and the snake reformed, several feet above the dusty earth. Its long coils worked in the night breeze, and before it hit the ground, was borne upwards, over the scrubby bushes, and faded into the dark night.
Honey watched the witch go with vigilant eyes. She turned one tear-shaped eye to the bundle that was her owner, and padded over. She carefully nosed a slack hand. The form mumbled incoherently and sat up slowly. Mussed brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. Sad brown eyes blinked owlishly over a sharp nose and a wry mouth. A thin fingered hand reached up and brushed away some hair. “Barking at the moon again, Honey?” The girl stroked Honey’s head bemusedly and affectionately. Honey shook the hand away and yipped once, softly. The girl’s lazy smile faded and she frowned. “An intruder? Show me, please.”
Honey trotted back to where he had encountered the witch. The girl hurriedly gathered up her large quilt, stuffing it in the pack that she used as a pillow. She slung a strap over her shoulder and padded up to Honey. The tell tale slither marks and the signs of the scuffle were marked in the dirt.
The girl raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe I slept through that,” her voice was awed. “A witch? You must have been barking your head off, Honey.”
Honey let out a breath that rushed through her teeth like a sigh. The girl looked down apologetically. “I know, I know, not the point” She shook her head. “I had no idea that we’d entered the Witching.” She squinted up at the fading stars, then pulled a crumpled map from the pocket of her tunic. In loose, sepia trousers and a matching shirt and tunic, she blended well with the surrounding scrubland.
Honey lay down, resting her head on her paws as she waited. The girl tapped her fingers on her thigh as she thought. She slowly turned to her right. “If we cut through the Witching, we can find the main road, then follow it to the crossroads, where we can rendezvous with the Armet.”
Honey snorted. The girl leveled her gaze at Honey. “Come on, it’s almost dawn. And everyone knows witches can’t bite in daylight.” Honey rose to her paws resignedly and walked alongside the girl.
The brittle bushes dragged along Honey’s fur and the girl’s pants. By the time the sun had cleared the horizon, the two had left the scrublands and joined with a small trail. The girl had picked Honey up and slung her in a piece of cloth, where she at a piece of dried meat and dozed against the girl’s chest.
The girl’s eyes flickered constantly. Her movements, though fluid and graceful, were wary, and ready. In the distance a copse of trees marked the end of the Witching and the beginning of the Arche’s main road. Her boots quickened their pace as she heard a whisper behind her. Her eyes darted behind her, and saw nothing. In the calm night, she had been lulled into feeling safe. But in stark sunlight, she was vulnerable, easily spotted. She forced herself to relax. Breathe, she told herself. She straightened her shoulders a little. She shouldn’t be fearful. Her family was famous for their bravery. She hoped that she, Cassia, could uphold that.
She passed the copse, the brief shade cooling her fears slightly. She stopped. The main road, normally busy with at least a few pedestrians and horsemen passing constantly, was silent. A cool bead of dread dripped down her stomach. They couldn’t have… She felt a prickle of relief as she heard the clops of a horse and the clatter of a cart.
Still, Cassia pressed back into the shadows of trees as it passed. She squinted at the cart, which was covered with a rusty brown cloth. A hand dangled under the edge of the covering. She sat down hard, her mind reeling with shock. She tried to convince herself that the cart was simply a burial cart from a healing camp, or something. But in her mind’s eye, the events of yesterday took on a morbid significance.
Her father, an influential merchant and soldier, and a good friend with many in the small country, was an outspoken critic of Counselor Tempest, one of the council of three that ruled Arche. At first, supported by popular opinion, the council members and her father had met several times, publicly and privately to resolve issues. But a week ago, Counselor Tempest had died, and his successor was his son, a younger, more volatile personality. He his stubborn tactics had overruled the other two council members.
Then yesterday: “Cassia,” her mother had said casually, as she watched her youngest daughter go through her morning stretches. “I need you to run an errand for me.”
Cassia had slowly eased into straight stance, listening to her mother’s instructions. “Your father wants to send word to several of his friends, to try to see if they can’t reason with the young Tempest.”
“So what can I do, mother?” Cassia had asked.
“Well, I have sent Thad and the others to [insert place names], so I thought that you could travel to Archet Town to send a message to the Armet.”
Cassia looked surprised that father wanted to contact one of the strongest militia groups in Arche. “The Armet? Is father so ready for war?”
Her mother smiled wearily. “We believe that it’s best to be prepared. We don’t yet know what young Tempest is capable of.” A shadow of worry crossed her face. “Will you be alright?”
Cassia straightened. She had never been granted a mission alone before, though she had traveled twice before with her older brother. “I will be, mother. I am almost sixteen.”
Her mother had hugged her fiercely. “I know, but you are still the youngest, and,” she hesitated and lowered her voice a little. “I’m afraid, sometimes that yoru father is aggravating the situation. I am afraid that Arche will return to how it was during the Great Wars.”
I shuddered. The Great Wars, which had happened the decade before my mother was born, had left the country in tatters. The Witches, fairies, elves, and dragons were even more decimated than humans. The council had been established to make sure nothing like that would ever happen again. Another war like that could not happen so soon…could it?
It was then that she began to be afraid. “Could I bring Honey?” He voice had come out higher than she had intended it to.
Her mother nodded, “Of course. Bring Honey. And keep her close.”
Cassia snapped herself back to the present. The dead in that cart could be anyone, she told herself. In any case, her mission was to inform the Armet. There, she could borrow a horse and find her family.
Tear and Crumple
Have you ever heard the sound of ripping paper? Imagine that right now. Except virtually. So the ripping of virtual paper...
Actually, never mind. Just know that we are stopping the previous story, because it really was not going anywhere. So Crane suggested that we do a new story, with the same concept, but slightly different rules.
Five pages at a time. Even though it will take a lot longer, the current writer will be able to better shape the direction of the plot. Or, if they are suffering from writers' block, slog through five pages of teeth-grinding heck.
I'm not sure how much I should reveal. Hm. Next time Crane should do these "Address the Non-existent Reader" posts. [Hey, Crane just informed me that she's changing the template from dots to something else in honor of the new story. Oh. She finished. Which means I should probably finish this soon, too. Guess what? I also get to start the new story. Yay. Hear the excitement? No, you don't. It's probably because you can't register excitement over the internet without an obscene amount of exclamation points. Nothing to do with sarcasm.
Okay, Crane changed the rules. Minimum 2 pages, tentative max is 5. You can go more if you're feeling insane. Anyways, Crane's gonna add to this post. As soon as I finish. So I will. Now.
~Beads
See how funny she is? That's why I let her do the "Address the Non-existent Reader" posts. But we do have readers. I read our blog almost everyday. :)
Wow, this is the first time I've talked to you guys (assuming we have readers) directly. Hi! How are you? I'm fine. I'm actually really excited about this new story. It should be really fun. Because it doesn't take place in this universe, so anything can happen.
Anyway, we've come up with ideas for this new story, involving mystical creatures, a normal main character, and an awesome dog, whom I shall one day own. Expect a lot of fun fictional craziness, and random stuff that we add just because we're fantasy nerds. Our motto for this story is, "Break the Stereotype!" See how good we do. And comment on the posts. Cuz Beads doesn't think any of you exist. But I know you do. Right? Someone agree with me!
Okay, enough of my ranting to no one. I have to go help Beads write.
~Crane
Actually, never mind. Just know that we are stopping the previous story, because it really was not going anywhere. So Crane suggested that we do a new story, with the same concept, but slightly different rules.
Five pages at a time. Even though it will take a lot longer, the current writer will be able to better shape the direction of the plot. Or, if they are suffering from writers' block, slog through five pages of teeth-grinding heck.
I'm not sure how much I should reveal. Hm. Next time Crane should do these "Address the Non-existent Reader" posts. [Hey, Crane just informed me that she's changing the template from dots to something else in honor of the new story. Oh. She finished. Which means I should probably finish this soon, too. Guess what? I also get to start the new story. Yay. Hear the excitement? No, you don't. It's probably because you can't register excitement over the internet without an obscene amount of exclamation points. Nothing to do with sarcasm.
Okay, Crane changed the rules. Minimum 2 pages, tentative max is 5. You can go more if you're feeling insane. Anyways, Crane's gonna add to this post. As soon as I finish. So I will. Now.
~Beads
See how funny she is? That's why I let her do the "Address the Non-existent Reader" posts. But we do have readers. I read our blog almost everyday. :)
Wow, this is the first time I've talked to you guys (assuming we have readers) directly. Hi! How are you? I'm fine. I'm actually really excited about this new story. It should be really fun. Because it doesn't take place in this universe, so anything can happen.
Anyway, we've come up with ideas for this new story, involving mystical creatures, a normal main character, and an awesome dog, whom I shall one day own. Expect a lot of fun fictional craziness, and random stuff that we add just because we're fantasy nerds. Our motto for this story is, "Break the Stereotype!" See how good we do. And comment on the posts. Cuz Beads doesn't think any of you exist. But I know you do. Right? Someone agree with me!
Okay, enough of my ranting to no one. I have to go help Beads write.
~Crane
page 24
I lay in bed two days later, waiting for the soft knock that would announce Cameron and Jeff’s arrival. I glanced at the clock. 2:27. Cameron had said they’d swing by around two-thirty. She probably did not expect that I would expect her to be accurate to a minute. I knew exactly why I was so looking forward to their visit; I had just reread my last book, and I was in no mood for a movie. And I was looking forward to seeing my other friends as well.
“Maggie, honey?” I twitched at the sound of my mother’s voice. She had tried to talk to me a few times during my recuperation, but I found myself giving short, uninformative answers to her questions, such as who Charlotte and Jeff were, and why and when I began to hang out with them. Slowly I felt us drawing apart, an invisible force driving a wedge between us. I knew exactly what it was, but my mom remained blissfully, agonizingly unaware.
“Yeah?” I looked at her face, where small lines had begun to distort her features.
She hesitated, “I’m glad you’re making new friends and everything. But…” she thought carefully, “you seem different for some reason. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
I wondered if I would tell her, even if I could. I shook my head reflexively, “no, mom. Everything’s fine, really.” My voice, light and sincere, flowed out of my mouth before I could think about it.
My mom searched my face for a moment, then sighed, her eyelids drooping slightly. “Alright, honey. Well, if there ever is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
I nodded, “I know. Thanks.”
She withdrew, and I settled back into my bed, relaxing a little. Then I sat up again as I heard the chime of the doorbell echoing up the steps. Moments later, there was a rasping sound as the door dragged over the carpet. There was a moment of faint greetings, then my mom called, “Maggie, Cameron and Jeff are here!”
“Okay,” I called down. I closed my eyes and listened for the tramp of feet. There was the soft, light tread of Cameron, and a slight stumble as Jeff stumbled over his feet. I smiled a little. Jeff would always be bit of a nerd, no matter how much he worked out.
“Hey Maggie,” he said shyly as he followed Cameron in. She plopped down on my bed, careful to avoid my broken leg. Jeff stood next to her.
“Hi Jeff, what’s up?” I turned to Cameron and added dryly, “Long time no see.”
Cameron grinned. “Jeff wanted to see you.”
I turned questioningly to Jeff. He never blushed, but when he was embarrassed, the his eyes narrowed behind his glasses and he blinked rapidly.
Cameron smiled smugly. “I’m going to get some fruit for you,” she told me.
“Wait, what?” I was confused, “I don’t want fruit.”
Cameron shrugged. “Then maybe I’ll eat it.” She got up to leave.
Jeff stopped blinking. “Wait!” He panicked and turned to Cameron. “Don’t leave me!”
I pushed myself off of the pillows, wincing as my weight shifted. “What’s going on?”
I demanded. “Did the monster come back or something?”
Cameron shook her head and shot me a look. “Don’t be silly Maggie.” She turned to Jeff, who now was staring at her in disbelief.
“How did you know?” he demanded. “Was it Andrew?”
Cameron laughed. “I don’t need my brother to know everything.” She told him.
I brightened at his name, “what’s this about Andrew?” I wanted to know. Both Jeff and Cameron ignored me. Jeff stared at Cameron, fists clenched a little.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” he told her. She shrugged, already in the hall.
“You’ll thank me later.” She shut the door behind her. Jeff took a deep breath and turned to face me. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Maggie, honey?” I twitched at the sound of my mother’s voice. She had tried to talk to me a few times during my recuperation, but I found myself giving short, uninformative answers to her questions, such as who Charlotte and Jeff were, and why and when I began to hang out with them. Slowly I felt us drawing apart, an invisible force driving a wedge between us. I knew exactly what it was, but my mom remained blissfully, agonizingly unaware.
“Yeah?” I looked at her face, where small lines had begun to distort her features.
She hesitated, “I’m glad you’re making new friends and everything. But…” she thought carefully, “you seem different for some reason. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
I wondered if I would tell her, even if I could. I shook my head reflexively, “no, mom. Everything’s fine, really.” My voice, light and sincere, flowed out of my mouth before I could think about it.
My mom searched my face for a moment, then sighed, her eyelids drooping slightly. “Alright, honey. Well, if there ever is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
I nodded, “I know. Thanks.”
She withdrew, and I settled back into my bed, relaxing a little. Then I sat up again as I heard the chime of the doorbell echoing up the steps. Moments later, there was a rasping sound as the door dragged over the carpet. There was a moment of faint greetings, then my mom called, “Maggie, Cameron and Jeff are here!”
“Okay,” I called down. I closed my eyes and listened for the tramp of feet. There was the soft, light tread of Cameron, and a slight stumble as Jeff stumbled over his feet. I smiled a little. Jeff would always be bit of a nerd, no matter how much he worked out.
“Hey Maggie,” he said shyly as he followed Cameron in. She plopped down on my bed, careful to avoid my broken leg. Jeff stood next to her.
“Hi Jeff, what’s up?” I turned to Cameron and added dryly, “Long time no see.”
Cameron grinned. “Jeff wanted to see you.”
I turned questioningly to Jeff. He never blushed, but when he was embarrassed, the his eyes narrowed behind his glasses and he blinked rapidly.
Cameron smiled smugly. “I’m going to get some fruit for you,” she told me.
“Wait, what?” I was confused, “I don’t want fruit.”
Cameron shrugged. “Then maybe I’ll eat it.” She got up to leave.
Jeff stopped blinking. “Wait!” He panicked and turned to Cameron. “Don’t leave me!”
I pushed myself off of the pillows, wincing as my weight shifted. “What’s going on?”
I demanded. “Did the monster come back or something?”
Cameron shook her head and shot me a look. “Don’t be silly Maggie.” She turned to Jeff, who now was staring at her in disbelief.
“How did you know?” he demanded. “Was it Andrew?”
Cameron laughed. “I don’t need my brother to know everything.” She told him.
I brightened at his name, “what’s this about Andrew?” I wanted to know. Both Jeff and Cameron ignored me. Jeff stared at Cameron, fists clenched a little.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” he told her. She shrugged, already in the hall.
“You’ll thank me later.” She shut the door behind her. Jeff took a deep breath and turned to face me. He opened his mouth to speak.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Page 23
“Maggie?” No, it wasn’t Andrew who said my name. I looked up to see Jeff, walking through my door.
“Did you find it?” I asked, my voice unusually high. He shrugged.
“It was pretty badly hurt.” He said. “I don’t think there’s any way it could have made it out alive…”
“But you didn’t find it.” I finished, feeling like the Earth had dropped out from under me. Jeff nodded.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the air. The uncertainty of our, and its, fate left everyone with a chill.
“So…” Cameron said, trying to lighten the mood. “Anyone for a movie?”
“I can’t exactly go anywhere…” I said, rubbing my leg. Cameron smiled, eyeing my computer on my desk on the other side of the room.
In a matter of minutes we were watching the latest adventure flick, munching on popcorn and laughing and talking, me on my bed and them sitting against the side of this. I sighed, for the moment happy. With friends like these, life couldn’t be so bad, could it?
I found out just how bad, with days of doctor’s trips and physical therapy, it felt like my break was being eaten up, one second at a time.
I tried to balance time with my friends, but in actuality, it was hard with all my time being spent indoors or in offices, so I hardly saw them. The one exception was Cameron, who would visit almost daily, to talk to me, watch TV, or do anything to keep me entertained. Without any homework, we found fun in gossiping about celebrities, or occasionally using our powers to annoy people. Cam’s powers made it especially fun to steal treats from downstairs, which my mother usually reserved for special occasions.
One day, as we were munching on brownies, Cameron said, “Hey, do you think it would be okay if Jeff came over sometime?”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that he hasn’t seen you in a while, and he’s getting kind of sick of just seeing Charlotte and Andrew making goo goo eyes at each other, so he wanted to know if he could come over here once in a while.”
“Um…sure. I guess. If he really wanted to…” I still hadn’t thanked him for saving me the day of the fire. I mean, I had given him credit, but I had never had the opportunity to one-on-one thank him for what he did. Especially getting rid of that monster. I really owed him for that.
“Do you think tomorrow would be good?” She asked, handing me another brownie.
“No, I have physical therapy most of the day, and then maybe I’ll have crutches so I could walk.”
“The next day then?” She was really insistent about this.
“Sure. Why is it such a big deal?”
“It’s not. It’s just that I think it’d be good for you to hang out with your friends again.”
“I hang out with you.” I pointed out, smiling. She returned the smile, but then rolled her eyes.
“And we all know you’re getting bored of just seeing me. So you need to hang out with your friends more. So I’ll bring him over the next time I come. End of discussion.”
“Did you find it?” I asked, my voice unusually high. He shrugged.
“It was pretty badly hurt.” He said. “I don’t think there’s any way it could have made it out alive…”
“But you didn’t find it.” I finished, feeling like the Earth had dropped out from under me. Jeff nodded.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the air. The uncertainty of our, and its, fate left everyone with a chill.
“So…” Cameron said, trying to lighten the mood. “Anyone for a movie?”
“I can’t exactly go anywhere…” I said, rubbing my leg. Cameron smiled, eyeing my computer on my desk on the other side of the room.
In a matter of minutes we were watching the latest adventure flick, munching on popcorn and laughing and talking, me on my bed and them sitting against the side of this. I sighed, for the moment happy. With friends like these, life couldn’t be so bad, could it?
I found out just how bad, with days of doctor’s trips and physical therapy, it felt like my break was being eaten up, one second at a time.
I tried to balance time with my friends, but in actuality, it was hard with all my time being spent indoors or in offices, so I hardly saw them. The one exception was Cameron, who would visit almost daily, to talk to me, watch TV, or do anything to keep me entertained. Without any homework, we found fun in gossiping about celebrities, or occasionally using our powers to annoy people. Cam’s powers made it especially fun to steal treats from downstairs, which my mother usually reserved for special occasions.
One day, as we were munching on brownies, Cameron said, “Hey, do you think it would be okay if Jeff came over sometime?”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that he hasn’t seen you in a while, and he’s getting kind of sick of just seeing Charlotte and Andrew making goo goo eyes at each other, so he wanted to know if he could come over here once in a while.”
“Um…sure. I guess. If he really wanted to…” I still hadn’t thanked him for saving me the day of the fire. I mean, I had given him credit, but I had never had the opportunity to one-on-one thank him for what he did. Especially getting rid of that monster. I really owed him for that.
“Do you think tomorrow would be good?” She asked, handing me another brownie.
“No, I have physical therapy most of the day, and then maybe I’ll have crutches so I could walk.”
“The next day then?” She was really insistent about this.
“Sure. Why is it such a big deal?”
“It’s not. It’s just that I think it’d be good for you to hang out with your friends again.”
“I hang out with you.” I pointed out, smiling. She returned the smile, but then rolled her eyes.
“And we all know you’re getting bored of just seeing me. So you need to hang out with your friends more. So I’ll bring him over the next time I come. End of discussion.”
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