Centuries earlier, on the western coast of the Continent, the wind blew white foam over the tide. Toward the north where the land jutted out like the white claw of a dragon’s foot, sat a lighthouse. It shone a yellow hand through the ever-present blanket of fog. Scrambling down the hill from the lighthouse, full of laughter and the skitter of stones were two children and a badger.
The tallest was a dark-skinned girl with wild purple hair. She reached the sea grass first and began to hop over the white bones of driftwood hidden beneath. Behind her a boy followed, so pale he would have disappeared in the grey light if not for his unnatural red hair. He held a book under one arm and a badger lumbered after him. The boy moved with care but still stumbled and tripped as he tried to keep up with the girl. She reached the sand first and ran with a shout of joy toward the water, stopping just before a wave could lap at her feet. The boy clambered over one last bone of wood, the badger barked and soon they too stood with the girl at the edge of their world. Close enough to feel the pull of the earth but far enough to keep their boots dry. The moment was shattered as the boy bent down to touch two fingers to the tips of the tide, he grimaced and shook the droplets off his fingers before wiping them on his trousers, as if to be sure he was clean once more.
“I’m hungry,” the girl said, turning to the boy. “You brought food?”
“Obviously,” said the boy with an imperious tone. The girl stuck out her tongue, “how was I to know you didn’t get scared of Cook again?”
“I wasn’t! There wasn’t anything good left out that time.”
“So, did you bring anything? You don’t have a pack.”
“I stuck it in between,” he said, crossing his arms and giving the girl an imperious look. She laughed at him.
“Not even I can do that. And I’m top of the class,” she said with the matter-of-fact tone of the young, flipping her hair with a proud sniff but she sat down next to the boy. The badger barked and the girl nodded at it, “See, Luna thinks you’re crazy too.”
“Watch, I have reach a whole feast in here. Cook will never scare me again. ” He grasping the air with both hands and yanked on it; as if pulling back double curtains. A writhing mass of colour opened up, with tendrils of black toeing out and snapping back again and again. The boy stepped through and the hole disappeared. A moment later an apple came flying out of the hole, then a roll of cheese, three more apples, tarts, fish and a whole cabbage. The girl laughed as she leaped about catching each item. When no more food came flying from the portal, the boy reappeared, closing the hole like he was closing a pair of curtains. The tendrils disappeared like candle smoke and he sat with a satisfied smirk on the blanket he’d brought too. Luna, who had moved away from the flying food, lumbered up to the boy and settled down next to him with a breathy snort.
“I thought of everything.” The boy congratulated himself as he picked through the food, as if unsure where to start. The girl had no trouble and snatched up one of the apples. She pointed at the boy with it and said, You were supposed to steal the wine.”
“That’s in the cellar.” The boy shuddered and pulled his legs up to his chest. He looked even more pale than he already was. the girl huffed and crunched into her apple. As she chewed she waved the apple at the boy, as if doing so would help emphasize her point. “So? You only have to get past Master Bandersnatch’s troll.”
“It’s your turn next time.” The boy grumbled, still curled up and Luna nudged his leg and snuffled, a comforting sound that was more cat than badger.
“Challenge accepted,” the girl said and she bit into her apple with a flourish and crunch.
The boy rolled his eyes and picked up a tart. It was stuffed with the first of the summer fruits. A rainbow of colour, like the places between the worlds.
That summer they visited the beach where the lighthouse shone many more times. Here, they could be just a girl and boy; no duties or expectations other than just how many apples they could eat in a sitting or how many waves they could leap without getting wet.
They would keep these memories close, like the wine bottle they stole for their very next visit.
Excerpt from one of my work-in-progress novels.
ARR~Moony
