The Rose and The Briar

Prologue-pt 2

Clarissa snorted.
"You said it didn't take long."

Her mother placed a hand on her head, stroking her hair with a quick motion, not wanting her fingers to get stuck in that tangle.
Then she smiled softly and said:"I lied."
Thus earning a pout from her daughter.

They climbed up a slope, and then began to descend through a run-down cart track.
As the sun grew brighter and dispelled the fog, the urban landscape -if it could be described as such- gave way to expanses of terraces and pastures, interrupted here and there by a few stone huts.

"We just have to go down to the valley and we are there."

On the one hand Alma had to hold on to her mother's skirt, trying not to trip over some stones, while on the other Clari was already rushing at full speed towards the valley.
She darted among the vineyards, hopping along the terraces among neat rows of leaves and large green grapes.

"First!"
The scream echoed through the mountains, answered by the bells of some cows and a sigh from her mother.

Arrived in the valley Bianca led them through a new plantation. The low trees, decorated with small red and greenish apples, mingled more and more with berry bushes, pines, and larches as they advanced.
When their view was completely filled with yellow leaves and pine needles, the woman stopped.
"Okay girls, have fun."

Clarissa immediately jumped into the bushes.
"I'll collect the most, so I'll help Mom with the next magic potion."

Bianca laughed.
"Both of you will help me with the 'magic potion'. "

Alma moved a few steps and crouched on the ground. Her hands touched the dew-soaked grass, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of damp soil.
Her gaze scanned the mud in search of mushrooms, but she wouldn't have disdained the flicker of a fairy or the mischievous smile of a spirit. It went from the branches of a dry myrtle to her own dirt-encrusted fingers.
"Eww."
She rubbed her hands into her sister's skirt, leaving a streak of mud.

"Hey!"
Clarissa responded by throwing tufts of grass into her hair.

Alma shook them down laughing, almost losing her balance.

"Look here! "
Bianca's voice called to them from behind the shrubbery.

The two sprinted into the bushes, no longer worrying about their clothes or hair. A little further on their mother pointed to whitish spongy cones emerging from what was left of a fallen log.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pot began to grumble on the stove, Alma and Clarissa were examining the result of that day's harvest while biting into their slices of bread and jam. A bunch of violets, probably the last of the season, a couple of pine cones that Alma insisted would be useful for decoration, and a basket of white mushrooms of all shapes and sizes.

As their mom began to shred some parsley an abrupt knocking drew their attention to the door.

Bianca turned towards it, but she didn't have time to put down the knife that Clarissa had already pounced on the handle.

On the other side was a man, the sleeves of his long, blue, jacket rolled up to reveal an intertwining of pale scars, two deep, black, eyes peeped out from among a curtain of dark curls.
As his gaze dropped to the little girl, his eyebrows arched in a surprised expression.

Bianca ran to the door, almost stepping over the girls.
The two remained motionless, hit by the cold autumn air, their eyes fixed on each other's face, until his dark lips parted.
"Bia-"

She took him by one arm, dragging him to the opposite side of the street, after shutting the door with a yank.

The girls watched the two adults talk in the distance.
And gesticulate.
And yell.
But through the sound of the waves and the thick rock walls all that came to them was only a hum.

"Must be another one of Mom's friends."
Said Clarissa, biting into her slice of bread, her eyes glued eagerly to the scene beyond the chipped glass of the window.

"That's strange, usually they only come at night and never show up in the morning."
Alma intervened as the man knelt in front of her mother, taking her hand.
Those eyes.
That face.
"Do you think he's ..."
But the word stopped in her throat, she had never used it before, it almost seemed like a kind of taboo. So she reformulated.
"He looks like us."

Their mother stood still for a moment, her gaze cast down on her hand.

"Tsk, do you have any idea how many similar people there are around?"

The man stood up without letting go of her hand, but Bianca shook him off, heading straight for the door.
She only turned to him once, to say two simple words: "Alright then."

Alma and Clarissa hurried away from the window, managing to sit down at the table the instant the door was thrown open.

"Girls," Bianca announced, "this is Rafael De Oliveira. Rafael, they are Alma and Clarissa."

The man timidly stepped forward and ran a hand through his tousled hair.
"Two-two twins."
He knelt in front of them, a shook expression in his eyes but a smile on his lips.
"Hello."