| Subject: *a squirrelmaid enters and walks slowly over to sit by the fire* |
Author:
Lavender Breeze
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Date Posted: 19:05:43 10/21/02 Mon
Tis cold tonight, reminds me of a night seasons ago...
A young mousemaid sat watching the sun set over the far shore of the sea far to the west. As she stood there, watching the sun gradually sink beneath the sea-level, and the sky darken, she sang a beautiful song in a voice purer and lovelier than that of any bird.
“Softly and gently, beyond the shore,
Is a land where the free beasts roam,
I shall journey to that land one day,
And find a place to call my home.”
As the young creature stared out across, over the vast sea, the other good creatures that lived in the slave-pen listened. One greying hogwife felt a tear emerge from her eye and fall silently down her cheek as she listened to the young mousemaid’s beautiful song. It resonated through the air and a sense of calm and peace descended on the ragged and emaciated creatures that lived in the pen. A thin old mouse called to the young mousemaid,
“Come along Ania, warm yourself by the fire, you’ll catch your death of cold, as lovely as your singing is.”
“Aye matey,” agreed a nearby thin and yet brawny otter, “you have a voice sweet’ern the lark, young Ania.” The mousemaid sat down and smiled gently at the otter,
“I thank you for your compliment, Tawny, but how can a good singing voice help any of us?”
“A lot of good, young Ania,” chirped in the old mouse, “it raises our spirits and gives us a sense of peace in our hearts.”
“Aye, that it does,” agreed a nearby sturdy hogmaid named Valwen, “your voice cheers my spirit in a way I can’t describe Ania, gives me a sense of hope.” Ania simply smiled gently back and hugged her knees as she stared into the small fire.
“Have some soup, love, it’ll warm you up,” the old greying hogwife said, pushing a bowl into her shivering paws. Ania took it slowly and sighed.
“Thank you, Larlie, and all of you; you’ve been such good friends to me through all that’s happened recently.” The swirled the soup around in the bowl with the wooden spoon and took a mouthful. She looked up when she felt a paw on her shoulder.
“Ania, tis hard matey, to lose a loved one, I shoulder know, these dirty, thieving vermin worked my sister t’death, she died a season before you arrived little one. Your Mama dying was a tragic thing, but she’ll always be in your heart, matey.” The young mousemaid felt tears coming to her eyes as she stared into Tawny’s honest face, and before she could stop herself, she demolished into sobs in Tawny’s paws, as he stroked her head fur gently.
“Easy now, lass, tears will never bring her back,” the old mouse said, touching her paw gently. Ania got up, and nodded at the elderly mouse,
“You’re right Isaac; I’ll live this day for Mother, and free us all from the cruelty of Lord Darlion and his evil daughter Nightshade.” The old mouse smiled at the fire in her eyes,
“You have a fighter’s spirit Ania; you will be a fine warrior one day.” The young mousemaid smiled gently back at the old mouse and hunkered down, staring into the fire. The fire danced her eyes as she gazed into the leaping flames.
“One day.”
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