drabblegrrl

“Good grief, what is that smell, girl?”

She stuck out her tongue. “Onions.”

He balked, looking at her like she’d gone mad. “Onions? I hate them. Why are they here? What are you doing with them?”

“Cooking them. They’re good.” She held her wooden spoon out like a sword. “You used to like them.”

“That was then, girl. I don’t like ‘em now. I won’t eat.”

She shrugged. “Okay. More for me.” She giggled, the aroma from the cooking pot making her giddy. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was fussing and fidgeting. He hadn’t expected that answer, and was at a loss. Finally, he sat at the table with a loud grump.

“Fine, girl. Feed it to me.”

She swirled her spoon in the dark sludge in the pot, filled a bowl for him. She sat it on the table and stepped back. He tasted it, pulled a face, then dug in. “S’good. You made it through another day.”

She giggled, giddy still. Sparks flew off the tip of her spoon in her excitement as the young witch sat down with her mentor to share the meal.

The mournful wails of her people fading into the distance, she walked onward. She couldn’t bear to stay through another moment. Times were hard, too hard. Tears traced lines in the dirt on her face, but she walked on.

She came to a clearing, a place where the forest made an exception. A little pond bubbled here, tasted by the creatures of the trees. She sat on a fallen log at the water’s edge, dipping her sore toes. The water was cold, luxurious. Above her, birds sang merrily, oblivious to her plight.

She rested. She knew, come morning, there would be hell to pay. But for now, her heart was joyful.

She brushed her hair, wishing for the millionth time she had different parents. The brush ran smoothly through her long locks as she sang darkly to herself. She checked out her reflection; her blood-red eyes gleamed back at her. After a moment, her father’s voice rose from below, summoning her to the evening meal.

She tossed her brush onto the vanity with a deep sigh. Throwing open her door, she stormed down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. She appeared in the dining room just as her father sat down.

“Good evening, princess,” he said in his rich baritone. He smiled at her, his blood-red eyes shining.