The Girl and the Fire-Breather

Learning

                Marocco guided me up the front steps of his caravan. I could hear the chatter of the performing folk behind us. Flickers of the flames from the massive bonfire behind us cast shadows on the grounds, causing Marocco’s face to look more angular than it really was. The night air was getting cold and I shivered as he pushed open the door and let me in. I kicked

                He glanced at me once, reached out to the stove and with a flick of his wrist, a circle of flames burst out over the stove before falling gently onto the gas ring and burning there. Leaning forward, Marocco blew gently on the flames and then quickly leapt back. A column of sparkling purple fire about three feet long burst upwards, barely grazing the roof of the caravan. Seeing my startled face, Marocco laughed.

                “How did you do that?!” I yelled. The bright column of fire was emitting a soft woody smell rather like the musky smell Papa used to wear. Maybe it was a magic fire? I reached out a hand to see if it would burn me, even though I was quite aware of the powerful heat that it gave out.

                Marocco put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me back. “Don’t be stupid.” he said. “Of course it’ll hurt you if you touch it. It’s not really magic, the gas that burns is mixed with a wood called efferel, which gives out a purple colour when burnt.”

                “That’s not why I think it’s magic.” I said.  “How did you conjure the fire out of nothing?”

                He shrugged, coming to stand beside me and watch the flames that were flickering with an intensity I had never seen before. “The fire is in me.” he said as if that explained everything. It didn’t, but I really wanted to know about something else.

                “Is there a name for that smell it’s giving out?” I asked.

                Marocco’s eyebrows shot up, his brown eyes going as big as a puppy’s. “You can smell it?” he asked.”What do you smell?”

                “What do you mean what do…” I started. Marocco grabbed my arms and shook me urgently.

                “Tell me what you smell! Does the smell remind you of anything?”

                “It just smells like the cologne Papa, my father, used to wear that’s all!” I shouted back. Marocco’s face was pale; I could see it even in the dim lighting of the caravan. I saw his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, from the heat of the fire or from some far away worry, I have no idea. I take a chance and put my arms around his neck, feeling his warm body against mine. He doesn’t resist.

                “Do you know what efferel does?” he asked. “It’s practically a warning system for danger. When you burn it, it gives out a smell that is supposed to warn you of impending danger. Different people smell different things according to what danger is coming towards you. Lena, your father has probably found out about everything!” With this, he pushes me away and strides to the window. His face is contorted with a million emotions, all covering up an underlying fear.

                “Stop that!” I yelled, horrified at this turn of events, stepping back. I thought of something. “Marocco, you don’t smell anything do you?”

                He froze for a minute and sniffed the air. Then he turned back to me, a glimmer of hope spreading across his features. “Actually, no I don’t.”

                “Then you don’t have to worry!” I said, absolutely certain of it now. Putting more conviction into my voice, I continued. “If only I can smell it, this means I’m the only one in trouble right? None of you need to worry. My father probably hasn’t even thought about the fact that I have enough independence or willpower to come to LenStone all by myself just to meet some boy I was rolling around in the sands with on my holiday.” I blushed at this point, hoping that the darkness of the caravan prevented him from seeing my embarrassment.

                Marocco nodded slowly. I could see that he was pretty convinced by this time. Just to see how he would react, I added in “Besides, if Papa does come here, I can run ahead. You guys don’t have to be in danger for me, it wouldn’t be fair.”

                He grinned. “You’re absolutely right.”

                I froze. Did he really just say that? For a moment, I considered screaming at him and telling him and his stupid troupe to go die off in a lonely, miserable forest by themselves. Was he actually willing to sacrifice me for the sake of his acrobat team? Then I remembered, it wasn’t him anyway that had chased me down, it was the other way around. What was wrong with me anyway?

                Marocco’s voice broke into my thoughts as if he were reading them. “Why did you come, Lena?” As if he wanted to hear me say those words. But his voice was genuinely curious and gentle. “Why would a rich daughter of one of the top military men in Everett travel 30 thousand footsteps back to LenStone just to see a raggedy, poor acrobat that she met for an hour on holiday? Why me, Lena?”

                My heart pounded furiously now, I was so embarrassed. “Don’t say that, you make me sound desperate.” I laughed nervously, rubbing my arms together.

                He only gave me a sideways glance, his chocolate brown eyes penetrating my soul. The temperature in the room seemed to heat up as his lips curved up slyly into a smile, the one that seemed to read everything I was thinking of before I voiced it aloud.

                “That,” I said pointing to his face, “is the reason I came back.”

                A twinkle came into his eyes. He reached an arm around my waist and pulled me in. “You’re so cute, Nana.”

                I slapped his arm jokingly. “Nana? That’s the best you can come up with?”

                “It’ll do for now.” he said, leaning downwards and meeting my lips with his. I tensed up in shock, and then felt my whole body relaxing. Tiny fires burned in me and butterflies did 360 turns in my stomach as his perfect lips moulded mine in sync with his. Marocco stroked my hair slowly before pulling away a little too soon. Disappointed, I leaned back and hid my blushing with a smile in the dark caravan. But I needed to know something else.

                “Do you love me?” I asked. “I know it’s too early to presume that you would even love me but… the thing is I chose you. That must show some sort of affection towards you in a way. So…” here I had to force myself to go on. I needed to know. “Do you feel anything, anything at all to me? You must do or you’d have to be one heck of a player to go around giving girls kisses like that in caravans.” I accused, jabbing my finger at his chest.

                Marocco laughed, moonlight from the adjacent window streaming in and lighting up the contours of his face, the purple fire casting weird shadows against his skin. Deep inside, I knew that if he rejected me now…well I don’t know what I’d do.

                He smiled. “Well, honestly, I can’t say. You just turned up on my doorstep like that, a person I never thought I’d see again. It was definitely some overwhelming stuff going on there.”

                “Do you think…you could learn to like me back?” A brave statement, but one easy to reject.

                Marocco nodded. “I’m already learning.” With that final statement, he pulled me in tightly once again and held me close to his heart.