sparrow and lion

Chapter 7: separation, Part 1: things go wrong

The next tale of import in the duo's story happens shortly after the last. Not long after the escape to the mountains and the bear and the weather witch and the children's safe retrieval and return to the household. The lord was furious. The lady was distraught. The children, it was decided, must be punished.

This decision was made, of course, solely by the lord. And that is how we come to the first incidence of Wren's disobedience.

You see: While many nobles sent their pawns off to be pages to princes and handmaidens to princesses, the lord of the household disdained such acts of servitude. A common farmhand could hand a knight a sword. A peasant girl could braid a royal's hair. The true show of nobility in his eyes, you see, was doing nothing.

And thus Wren was commanded to remain at home as Leo was shipped off to a nearby (faraway) convent to spend several months in silent prayer and meditation.

As everyone, except the lord, expected, Leo promptly ran away from the convent.

But this story isn't about her. This story is about Wren.

And Wren, as no one, especially the lord, expected, promptly ran away from home.

Now, after his years with Leo and their escapade through the mountains, one may think Wren had learned a thing or two about survival. But he had not.

The first thing he did, you see, was ask for his pony to be saddled.

The second thing he did was get lost in the woods.

And then his pony ran away.

Perhaps a sad story could be made of that particular tragedy, but it seems rather pointless when the whole event can be summed up as: When he discovered he was lost, Wren dismounted his pony and climbed a nearby tree for a better view. When he promptly came back down, the pony, which had been left untied, was gone.

Which was, of course, unfortunate. But more unfortunate was the reason for Wren's prompt descent.

And that reason was the squirrels. A lot of them. Angry ones. And they were chasing him.

It may not sound that frightening to some, but, by this point, Wren was already bleeding. Profusely.

Perhaps, if Wren had taken the time to study up on animal behaviors after the incident with the bear, he would have known how to recognize a squirrel's nest and understood the importance of not disturbing it. But, alas, he was still two years away from developing common sense and had not researched anything at all.

In fact, if you must know, he had run away with the intention of finding Leo, but was going entirely the wrong direction. But that's not the point. The point is that the squirrels were vicious. And also very speedy.

Wren ran fast. The squirrels kept up. His head was pelted with shells and sticks. His fingers dripped a trail of red. The sound these squirrels made would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

An acorn hit him in the eye. A tiny hand clutched at his pant leg. Something tiny and green, possibly a lizard, slapped him so hard in the face that he he saw stars. Wren was terrified. He had never suspected such tiny creatures of such violence.

Wren was so frightened that he didn't even notice when he stopped running through forest and started running through mud. Which is probably why he didn't see the bog until he tripped over a log and fell into it.

Muck filled his mouth. He couldn't see. Wren choked.

The squirrels screeching was all he could hear. And then he heard something worse. An inhuman shriek split the air. There was silence.

Wren smeared the mud from his eyes with equally muddy hands.

It's only logical that a child who had only just escaped a ferocious horde of fluffy squirrels should quake in terror when his eyes fell upon the creature that had scared them off.

So perhaps he can be forgiven for fainting when he saw the raccoon.