Snippets: Journals of Myondelf

Sorry for my absence. I've hit a rough patch... life is too dull to post about right now. Enjoy my attempt at a mainstream story, down to the unpronounceable title (mee-yon-delf). Oh, hey, it's sorta longish. :P

“Welcome to the Blue Moon!” Jill chirped. I chimed in out of habit, even though I was preoccupied with the clock and didn’t see who walked in. Quite frankly, I didn’t care. Though the clock was busted, I knew that Dillon was over an hour late.

“What can I get-“

“Jill!” Fred hollered from the back room. “Your pa’s on the phone!”

Jill sighed. “Lil, could you get this for me?” As she headed for the back, she brushed by closer than she needed to. “Hottie alert. I got dibs,” she hissed, snapping her bubblegum for emphasis of some sort.

I rolled my eyes and set the clock down on the bar. Pulling my notebook from my apron pocket, I retrieved a pencil stub from behind my ear and turned toward the front of the diner. The customer had chosen one of the seats closest to the door. His hair was dark, plastered down over his ears by the rain outside. The sleeves of his black rain slicker were pushed up over his elbows, and he hunched over the bar as if he were keeping out the world and its cares. My heart started to pound a little. I don’t know why I was surprised; Jill was rarely wrong when it came to guys.

“Can I get you something?”

His head snapped up, revealing the bluest eyes I had ever seen. He seemed surprised, then suspicious. “Aren’t you a little young to work in a pub like this?”

I held my chin up high. “I’m fifteen, and this is hardly a pub. If needed, there’s a drawer full of knives in the bar, a fire extinguisher’s in the back that can put out more than fires, and you obviously haven’t met my boss. If you want to go to a pub, go down the street.” Then my eyes narrowed. He couldn’t be that much older than me. “Besides, aren’t you a little young to visit a pub?”

He held up a hand. “Okay, point taken. Chill.” He opened the menu and scanned it. Apparently nothing caught his eye and he sighed. “What’s the cheapest thing you’ve got?”

I skimmed through the upside-down menu. “Water’s free.”

The corner of his mouth half-lifted and he shook his head, sending water droplets all over. “I’ve got plenty of that, thanks. I need something a little more substantial.”

“Well, how much do you got?”

He unzipped the slicker and pulled a worn wallet from somewhere inside. “Three soggy dollar bills, two hands that are willing to work, and a wink that’s worth at least a buck.”

“Is that so?” I set my notebook down and rested my palm on the countertop. “Let’s see it, then.”

With a flourish, he rested his chin on one fist and… winked.

I felt my nose scrunch up as I considered. “Hm. I’ve seen better. I’d say that’s worth seventy-four cents. How good are you at fixing stuff?”

He shrugged. “Like what?”

“Clocks.”

“Mechanical or battery operated?”

“Battery, but I just put a new one in and it’s still not working. “

“I’ll try my hand at it. What’ll I get in return?”

“Well, we have one pulled pork sandwich left. You can have it, and if you fix the clock, I’ll heat it up for you.”

“Alrighty,” he said, flexing his fingers. “Let me at it.”

I slid the clock across to him and went to the kitchen. Jill’s voice floated through the door to the back room as she argued with her dad. I pulled the sandwich from its bin, and Fred stepped out just as Jill’s voice got really loud. Fred shut the door behind him, twisting his fist in his long, salt-and-pepper beard. “They’re in a fight if they ever were,” he sighed.

“I know the feeling.”

Fred gestured toward the sandwich. “Dillon finally here?”

I shook my head and told him about the customer. “Is that okay?” I asked. “It would have been Dillon’s, anyway, and we get three dollars and possibly a clock out of this.”

Fred smiled and put his massive arm around my shoulders as we walked back to the front. “It’s just fine, lassie.”

Our customer was hunched over the clock when we came out. I slipped out from under Fred’s arm and set the plate on the table. “There you are. This would have been my brother’s, but he wasn’t on time, so it’s all yours.”

He held up a finger, and as soon as I fell silent, a steady ticking split the air. I scooped the sandwich back up. “I guess I owe this to you hot, huh?”

“Yep, that was the – whoa!” The second he caught sight of Fred he shot up so fast that the stool fell backwards. “Sorry,” he mumbled and tried to set the stool right-side-up, but he must have set it on his toe, because he gasped and pulled away. He ran a hand through his hair, causing some of the curls to stand upright. “This must be your boss,” he gulped.

“Yup. Microwaved okay with you?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure. That’s fine.”

“Well, me laddie,” Fred drawled, bringing out his Irish accent full force. “These actions o’ yourn be leadin’ me ta believe that yer intentions be not honest.”

“What? No! I mean, yes, I’m honest. I think. What did I come here for?”

“To eat, I believe,” I said, starting up the microwave.

He ran his hand through his hair again. “Could I actually take that to go?”

“Sure.” I leaned over to pull out a carton as Fred started up one of his belly laughs.

Before Fred could finish his laugh and say what was on his mind, Jill’s voice rose to a shrill shriek. Fred sighed. “I better go take care of this,” he mumbled, lumbering back through the kitchen.

The customer stared after him. “Why’d he loose the accent?”

“He only turns it on when there’re customers around. Thinks it’s a sales gimmick. Maybe people won’t mind eating from the hand of a giant if he talks funny.” I shrugged. “I don’t know, really. You still want this to go?”

“Yeah, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“So it wasn’t just Fred?” The microwave beeped and I plopped the sandwich into the carton.

“Well… let’s just say he jogged my memory.” His lips lifted in a half-smile and he took the carton. “Thanks for letting me take your brother’s sandwich.”

“Hey, you paid for it, he didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, thanks, anyway.” He headed towards the door.

I picked up the clock and took it to its place on the wall, stretching on tip-toe to reach the nail.

“Oh, and Lilly?”

I dropped the clock, but, luckily, I caught it before it hit the ground. The customer had paused at the door and was looking back at me. He grinned and said, “Happy birthday.”

And then he was gone.

~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|

Snippets: A Maiden's Touch

Hey, guys - remember Liadyn? Well, she's back! I'm about a third of the way through her story now (hopefully a little further than that) and here's a sneak-peek into her goings-on!

Liadyn gradually became aware of the earth shifting. Her arm was pinned beneath her, skin tingling from restricted blood flow, and the pounding in her ears competed with a steady wooden clacking that rent the air. Her throat was dry and her thoughts muddled. With an effort she pried her eyelids open, but for a moment she didn’t realize that she had, for it was just as dark. Even when her eyes adjusted, she had no idea where she was.

“You are under arrest,” echoed in her mind. But her prison was moving. Perhaps the execution would be held outside the limits of the capital so as not to subject the people to the sight of her gruesome corpse. But it was hardly fair; if there had been a trial, she was not aware of it, and how could they condemn her without first hearing her plea? Liadyn drew her knees to her chest and uttered a silent sob, for there was little excess moisture in her body with which to cry.

Tior was gone. She was a terrible person, leaving him all alone in the hands of strangers. Not that the poor boys had been responsible for the bizarre outburst, but the very fact that she hadn’t been there to control him, or at least witness the event and willingly make things right, weighed heavily on her heart. And now her horse was gone. They would have put him down by now, deprived of her insistence that the behavior was abnormal and he would never do such a thing without first being provoked.

And she never got the chance to say goodbye. Not to Tior, nor to her father, who would find her body in time and, after seeing the folly she had fallen into, feel vindicated for keeping her sheltered. She would never again happily give in to the spell that Gabby’s green eyes cast over her. Never again work her art in Taylan’s forge. Never again endure Amy’s stories or Haizea’s demeaning eye-roll, a trip to the market with Tanner or the painful process of brushing out Kimberli’s thick brunette curls. Never again see her family.

~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|

Apologetic Snippets

I have been informed by someone *cough*dad*cough* that I don't blog enough. I already knew this. And I've been trying to come up with a solution. So far it hasn't presented itself, and I'm too lazy to try harder.

Here's the dilemma. I can't come up with anything interesting for you guys. When I do, it's few and far between. So far I've been posting snippets of my writing, but you don't seem much entertained by that. Ideas, anybody...? I dunno. This blog is for you. Mainly for me, but also for you. So tell me what you want to read, kay?

In the meantime, here's another much dreaded snippet. (Bethanie, you've already read this one.)

~~~QuickSilver

It’s not my first time in juvie; at least I have that much. I’m not a very adventurous person. And non-adventurous people like me should never have to endure this many first-time-experiences in one day. Juvie is kind of relaxing after it all. I sit cross-legged on a cold concrete floor, clutching an ugly yellow purse in my lap. As much as I hate the color, I can’t seem to let the dumb thing go. It’s amusing, actually, since I’ve only had it for about… I glance at my watch. Two hours.

I sigh and rest my head back against the wall. Has it really only been two hours? My skin is already starting to crawl in this make-up. It might have something to do with this being the lousiest identity theft job I’ve ever done - one of the many firsts today held - but it’s probably all in my head. Surely I wouldn’t be this nervous if I wasn’t worried about Barbra.

That was the first first that happened today. Barbra got kidnapped. First time anyone dared to go after Bobbi Chance or her sister. Today, not only did they dare, but they succeeded. I press the purse tighter against my stomach, trying to suppress the queasiness I feel. Even if I get Barbra back, I’ll never be able to live this down.

Think, Bobbi. Right, think. How did I end up here?

After I got back from the store and discovered that Barbra was gone, I found a letter on the kitchen table. I suppose one could call it a ransom note. But the exchange wasn’t for money; it was a job. I was to delete a file on Agent Jonah Zhang’s laptop by any means necessary. It will be easy, the letter said — It may appear too easy. But if I wanted my sister back, I’d do it. And I did.

Becoming Melissa, Zhang’s daughter, was easy enough — I had the make-up and the clothes, and the props, too, after I raided an unlocked car near Zhang’s phony bank. “That girl’s crazy if she misses you,” I murmur down to the purse. I fiddle with the enormous black buckle on the front. Plastic, my fingers tell me. Not that it’s important to know.

My head lolls back again, forcing me to stare up at the pulsing fluorescent lights. Now that I think about it, the clerk seemed really nervous when he pointed me toward Zhang’s office. I thought at the time that he was just frightened of Melissa. But now I realize he’d probably been tipped off. There’s no way I could have fooled anyone who actually knew Melissa Zhang that I was her.

Zhang wasn’t in his office. That didn’t clue me in, and neither did the laptop conveniently booted up, centered on the maple desk. The embarrassing part is, despite the fact that the only file on the desktop was the one I wanted — ‘Felix Beckett’ — I didn’t see it coming until the file was deleted. That was when my fingers finally clued me in. By the time they started tingling, all I could do was sit back, lean my elbows on the plush armrests, and wait for the cops to storm the office.

And here I sit. For the first time in a while they haven’t tried to scrub the stains off my skin and find out what I really look like. In fact, no one has spoken to me since I got here. I look down at my watch again. 9:23. In another ten minutes, it will be the longest I’ve ever spent in a cell. And I know I’ll beat the record, because with Barbra gone, there’s no one for me to be released to. It looks like I’ll actually be going to court for the first time.

~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|

Snippets: Dream Dancer

The streets of Wenatchee were unusually quiet for a cool July evening. A tabby alley cat perched atop a trashcan just outside the door of a fast food restaurant, licking grease off of a paw. That day had been good. The tabby had hit a jackpot in this alley. Sure, a gang from Seattle messed around with a gang from Spokane, but the tabby had managed to get away without being kicked once, and the hubbub of it finally brought the attention of the pretty little Russian Blue that sits in the windowsill of the apartment building next door. He purred with satisfaction and dropped the now-spotless paw. Yes, today was good.

Suddenly a loud, aggravated growl split the air around the tabby, and he started, though the growl was muffled. The can he sat on started to shake and he shot across the top to a nearby dumpster, where he pressed against the wall of the restaurant and hoped that whatever mutt was inside the can wouldn’t notice him. With a thud, the lid burst off and flew over eight feet to hit the side of the apartment building, where it clattered to the ground. But the tabby was no longer concerned - though ‘mutt’ hadn’t been too far off, at least it wasn’t a dog.

A girl slowly climbed out of the can, picking torn wrappers and bits of cheese out of her incredibly long golden ponytail. The tabby recognized her - she had been involved, of sorts, in the gang fight, and she was a regular in this part of town. An ugly scowl on her face, the girl stumbled and sat down hard on the pavement, then made no move to get up. Instead she grabbed the rim of the trashcan and yanked it down beside her. Trash spilled into her lap, which she ignored and promptly reached into the can, pulling out a rather large backpack.

Well, if she wasn’t going to do anything…. The tabby hopped off of the dumpster, landing lightly on his feet, and padded over to root through the trash. This was sort of a regular occurrence. Except, normally she talked.

“They just got lucky,” she muttered angrily. “If they hadn’t snuck up behind you, you woulda torn ‘em apart.”

Yep. There it was.

She snorted, and her voice changed slightly to a higher lilt. “More like she’s the lucky one. If she’d been facing them, they’d have hit a lot harder.”

“Shut up, both of you!” she cried, her voice different once again - lower, softer, yet a lot stronger. She paused for a moment, then leaned back on her palms, seemingly oblivious of the tabby. “’Sides. I never said I’d tear them apart. DJ did.”

“But I only say what you’re thinking,” she pointed out in the first voice.

In the third, her usual, voice, she growled, “I said shut up!”

She fell silent again for another moment. The second, sweeter voice whispered, “’Shut up’ isn’t a very nice thing to say.”

“Don’t talk to me and I won’t have to say it!”

The tabby didn’t really care about her - oh, a half-eaten cheeseburger! Who would throw that away? - but he did get around quite a bit, and he knew that normal humans didn’t talk like that. But he knew the girl’s cats and they didn’t think anything was seriously wrong with her.

“Hey, there, Tabs,” the girl murmured in her normal voice, scratching lightly behind his ear. He leaned into it, but he was too intent on the cheeseburger to look up. “You must think I’m bonkers. Don’t mind me; I’m just upset, that’s all. You always seem to catch me at bad moments.”

She scooted out from underneath the trash pile just as the tabby swallowed the last bit of greasy meat and stale bread. He licked his lips and sat down to watch her heft the backpack onto one shoulder and start down the alley toward the street. She stopped and turned back. “Hey, you haven’t seen Princess anywhere, have you? She’s been missing for a few days.”

The tabby blinked, not sure how exactly to respond to that. No, he hadn’t seen her, but it’s not like he spoke English, or anything. He had seen a couple humans communicate with head gestures, but he’d never been able to figure them out. It didn’t matter, anyway, because before he could do anything, the girl bounced her shoulders and continued on her way.

He blinked again. He liked humans, he honestly did. But he never quite understood why some people just insist on holding conversations with animals. Then again, he didn’t understand why she held a conversation with herself.

This is one of many opening scenes I've got. It's my favorite so far. What do you think?

~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|

from the Daily Life of a Florida Fairy

{i'm so sorry guys... i promise a real post soon!!}

The old grandfather clock wiped his hands slowly across his face, fingers ticking nearer and nearer to the number nine. His insides did not work quite as smoothly as they once did, and gears whirred loudly in his stomach. And deep in his heart, shielded by his dark oak skin, a tiny pair of wings twitched.

The face that was attached to these wings twisted in a sleepy grimace. Long eyelashes fluttered with the remnants of a dream, and then popped open to reveal bright jade orbs. “Yeep!” the little creature cried, leaping a full three inches into the air before slamming back down on the pincushion that served as its bed.

“Gnugh.”

Elysia knew her first word – at least, something sounding like a word – to greet the morning was not particularly polite; but, quite frankly, it was all she could manage for the time being. She rubbed her eyes and listened to old Grandfather. Wearily pulling herself upright, she pushed aside some scraps of quilting fabric and groped behind her for a wing.

Once caught, Elysia proceeded to rub some life back into the little bugger. She chuckled impishly. Many a time had she heard humans complaining about a hand or foot falling asleep. She had dealt with that, too, but when it happened to her wings… well, it was a lot worse.

Elysia yawned widely – much too wide for her little face – and switched to the other wing. Old Grandfather was old and rickety, yes, but he always chimed at nine in the morning, on the dot. And nine-on-the-dot couldn’t be too much farther away. If she didn’t want to go deaf, she had better not be inside when the gongs went off.

She rolled off the pincushion and landed on her knees. Her walnut-shell slippers were never where she wanted them to be. Instead of staying right beside the bed where she had put them last night – at least, she thought – they managed to be all the way across the little room. She scurried over on her hands and knees, quickly put them on, and grabbed her day dress on her way out. She was halfway down from the attic before old Grandfather woke up.

The first thing Elysia did was fly straight to the mousetrap on the second floor, in the bedroom with the window overlooking the trees. But a disappointing sight met her there. The mousetrap was empty.

Spirits low, Elysia sank to the windowsill. She could have sworn that it had cheese, even if rather old cheese, the previous night. Oh. Elysia grinned cheekily at her reflection in the glass. Last night. She had eaten it then.

A sudden movement outside drew her focus past her image, and her full cherry lips immediately pulled down in a frown. A large white moving van was tossing a dust cloud into the air. She crossed her arms and spread out dramatically on her stomach. Just when she was getting used to being alone with old Grandfather.

~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|

And Creative Juices Flow... sorta...

{random new idea... don't know if i'll continue it... your thoughts?}

“Liadyn, get out of the pantry!” said the cook.

“Liadyn, get out from beneath the stairs!” said the butler.

“Liadyn, get out of the barn!” said the groom.

“Liadyn, get out!” said her father.

So out she went. Not permanently, of course. In fact, she only went down the street to the blacksmith’s shop and returned just after nightfall. But Liadyn had always been a wild child, and her absence caused such an uproar in the house that the staff promised, if she ever came back, to treat her much more carefully. And Liadyn despised it. She was babied, given everything she wanted, spoken to as if she was an infant, everything was done for her, and worst of all, she was no longer permitted to leave the house without an escort. Sometimes it was the butler, sometimes it was the groom - on rare occasions it was the cook and rarer still it was her father or eldest brother. But if she was allowed her choice, she always chose the aged gardener, for he never wanted to walk far, and when she wanted to go to the blacksmith’s, he complied, for there were places to sit.

And so Liadyn grew up, with the ability to do nothing and the longing to do everything. She could never help with supper - no, the cook would make sure it arrived at the table on time. She could never help with the cleaning - the butler was far too meticulous and was afraid of anything breaking. She could never help get her horse ready - when the groom brought him out, he was already immaculately brushed and saddled. And she certainly never, ever helped her father with his work. The only thing she could do was stoke a fire and pound out rings on an anvil, but if the household knew she could do that, surely they would take that away, as well.

As she grew, Liadyn slowly underwent a transformation - she was no longer a wild child. She became more thoughtful, quiet. But she always wished she had fought harder to keep herself the way she was; interesting. She was not an only child, nor was she the eldest or youngest. She was the fifth of eight children, sharing light brown curls with six of them and pale green eyes with three, and in the area of other similarities, she was perhaps the most unremarkable. But by being upbeat and energetic, she stood out. And now, sixteen years old, she was by far the most boring.

That was why she was beyond surprised when her older sister, Haizea’s, friend convinced Haizea to bring Liadyn along to a tournament in the city. “What kind of tournament?” Liadyn asked, but all she got was a degrading look and a, “This is why I don’t take you to things. And by the way, if you tell Dad where we’re going, I’ll kill you.”

Liadyn did not feel the least bit frightened, but she kept quiet anyway. She rarely ever got to sneak out, and this time she had a sibling in on it. So she shrugged off the threat and on a light cloak and followed her sister out the window and down the street.

And then it jumps right into the story. What do you think? Is the description too long? Does the wording seem funky anywhere?

~Charli Rae 

|Job 39:19-25|

Excerpt

Ug. I think my life is too dull for a blog. Right now, God is teaching me patience by supplying amazing things in my future. Faaaaar away in the future. Ug.

So, with nothing else to post, here's an excerpt from another one of my books, currently one with no name.

"Kanita," a frantic whisper cut through the whistles of boiling pots.

"Yes?" she said over her shoulder. She slipped the last of the garlic into the soup pot and wiped her hands on her apron. She examined her fingers with a sigh. It seemed that they were forever stained.

"It's Kiryn."

Kanita whirled around. "What's wrong?"

Meria's blue eyes were wide and worried, partially hidden by her ever-messy black hair. "They're taking her."

Kanita tore her apron off and yanked her hair out of its holder. "They can't. Madam Semia promised."

"She lied."

Skirt swishing, Kanita pushed past Meria and through the door that led to the dining room. "Where are they?"

"Room," Meria said simply, jogging to keep up with Kanita's long, boyish strides.

Kanita pounded up the stairs to the attic and burst into the bedroom that the three girls shared. Other than a simple wardrobe, a flimsy mattress, and a crib pushed up against one wall, the room was empty. Kanita crossed over to the crib and pushed aside the pale green blanket. "Kiryn," she sighed. The little girl was curled up on her side, cherub-like face peaceful in slumber. Kanita felt her face harden. "They can't take her. Madam Semia promised that she wouldn't put her up for adoption."

"She lied," Meria repeated.

"One more year, Meria!" Kanita cried. "Less than that and I'll be able to take you and Kiryn."

Meria looked troubled, and she pushed her hair back. "Shh. Kiryn."

Kanita took in a breath and perched on the edge of the mattress. "Thank you, Meria," she said, her voice calm. "I'll be quiet now." She watched Kiryn for a moment. Her auburn hair was still short and slightly irregular from the time Madam Semia had left a garden knife out, but it was so curly, it was hard to see the uneven ends. Her eyelashes were long and angelic, and her nose was small and sloped. "She looks so much like her mother," Kanita whispered as she blinked back tears.

Meria stepped forward cautiously and knelt beside Kanita. "Sorry," she managed.

"Oh, no, sweetie," Kanita said, reaching for the girl. "You're not upsetting me. It was good of you to come get me." She pulled Meria to her side and left an arm around her shoulders. "Did you happen to hear when they're coming for her?"

Meria nodded slowly. "Tomorrow. Dawn."

Kanita frowned and looked down at her feet. "Dawn." She thought for a few moments, then nodded. "Alright, then. We leave tonight."

Meria's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"We leave tonight," Kanita repeated, rising to her feet and hurrying to the wardrobe. She pulled out a coin purse and weighed it in her hand. "We'll pack up and take Peter and Ahlegra. And we better bring a map. Surely Master DeVayn won't miss just one." She paused when she realized that Meria was still sitting there, staring at her as if she had gone crazy. Well, maybe I have, she thought. She turned and leaned against the wardrobe. "Look, Meria. My service is up in less than a year, but there's nothing to say Madam Semia won't extend it again. We have to go now, before she sends Kiryn away."

Meria's eyebrows knit together as she thought. She looked over at Kiryn, then up at Kanita. "Al…alright."

~*~*~

"Do you have it?" Kanita asked after she pulled Meria to the side. The younger girl nodded and pressed a small, folded square of paper into Kanita's hand. She smiled and whispered, "Excellent."

"Kanita," Madam Semia called from the table. "The bread is a bit crusty and the soup is slightly burned. Where you having trouble in the kitchen?"

Kanita slipped the map into her apron pocket and hurried back to the table. "Yes, actually, the… uh… the stove wasn't working properly." Her conscience gnawed at the back of her mind for telling a lie, but she couldn't very well say that she forgot about the food because she was worrying over Kiryn.

"Oh. Well, I suppose I will have to look at it later." Her black eyes glinted with false compassion as she smiled at Kanita. "Don't worry about the soup, darling. The burned taste adds flavor."

Kanita hung around the table to see if Madam Semia was going to say anything about Kiryn's leaving, but after a bite of bread, Madam Semia looked up with concern. "Do you have something to tell me? Is that why you aren't eating with Meria in the kitchen?"

"No, ma'am," Kanita said, curtsying slightly as she backed into the kitchen. Anger knotted in her stomach as she stomped over to the mat. What would Madam Semia gain from keeping this from Kanita? She knew that it would make Kanita even more upset to wake up in the morning and find Kiryn gone. Maybe she expected Kanita to run, to take Kiryn and Meria away. Well, Kanita thought satisfactorily as she untied her apron and slung it over the hook by the stove, she was right.

Meria was already portioning the previous day's leftover soup into three bowls and dividing a meager loaf in a few pieces. She looked up when Kanita sat down. "Good?" she asked carefully.

Kanita nodded. "Yes, it's good. Madam Semia can't suspect a thing."

Meria flashed a rare smile, dimples appearing briefly in her cheeks. "Good. Eat."

Kanita took her soup into her lap and was about to start eating when the door clattered open. "'Nita! M'ia!" Kiryn ran into the kitchen, plopping her chunky legs down on the mat beside Kanita. "What we havin'?"

"Soup," Kanita said jovially, passing Kiryn her bowl.

Kiryn wilted. "But I tireda soup."

"Don't worry," Kanita whispered. "I put something in it to make it yummy."

Kiryn smiled and dipped a spoon into the bowl, glowing when she brought it to her mouth. "Yummy!" she cried. "What you do?"

Kanita winked. "Why, now, I can't tell you. It would ruin the secret."

Meria raised an eyebrow, but Kanita shook her head to imply that she didn't put anything in. Meria's eyes took on a humorous glint, and she nodded.

"So, Kiryn," Kanita said slowly. "Are you doing anything special soon?"

Kiryn frowned and put her bowl down. "Yeah. Ma'am S'mia says I go on trip t'morrow. That I gonna get a new mommy." Her emerald eyes started to look watery. "But 'Nita, I don't want a mommy. Ma'am S'mia says you gonna stay here w' M'ia."

Kiryn started to cry as Kanita took her in her arms and rocked her back and forth. "It's okay, baby. It's gonna be okay."

~*~*~

A candle flickered in Kanita's hand as she opened the wardrobe and took out her mother's old cloak. The dark green cloth was still in pristine condition, even after being locked up for most of the past five years, only to be taken out on the coldest of winter nights when it was needed as a blanket. Beside it was the blue cloak that once belonged to Meria's mother, also immaculate.

Kanita tossed the cloak around her shoulder and knotted the ties, twisting her hair carefully under the hood. She waited while Meria put on her cloak, then carefully lifted Kiryn into her arms. She maneuvered Kiryn's head to rest on her shoulder so that she could still hold the candle. Meria scooped up the two bundles and nodded for Kanita to go.

Leading the way silently down the stairs, Kanita went through the kitchen and out the back door. She could just hardly see the roof of the barn where it rose above the trees. She cut herself off when she started to whistle as she always did to let the horses know she was coming. If ever there was a need for silence, it was now.

The barn door was locked, but Meria had thoughtfully remembered the key. She stepped around Kanita and fumbled with the latch for a moment before she was able to push the door open. Kanita laid Kiryn against the wall as she used her candle to light the lanterns, then blew the candle out and went to fetch the saddles. In what felt like hours but was, in fact, only a few minutes, she and Meria had saddled Peter and Ahlegra.

Kanita quickly tied their bundles behind Peter's saddle and looped the reins around a hitching post. She helped Meria mount, hefted Kiryn up to sit in front of her, and mounted Peter. She blew out the lanterns as she passed them and grabbed the last one to take with her. Though tension throbbed through her, she carefully kept Peter at a walk as they passed the house, only picking up a gentle trot when they reached the road. She checked to make sure Meria was keeping up and relaxed.

She was free at last.