Fur

The Future

She wished she weren't a princess. Armelle's destiny was all laid out from the start.

The girl was taken deep into the woods to where the Future lived. The carriage stopped at a large gnarled tree that stood out among the other skinny trees. To her relief, the guards were forbidden to continue. She greatly despised how the guards must come with her wherever she went. But unfortunately, her mother and father couldn't come either.

The mother looked at Armelle, her eyes becoming glossy. "Good luck," she whispered, kissing her forehead.

The father looked at his wife, and then smiled reassuringly at the girl. Whenever the mother was happy, the father would try to be too. Armelle wondered if it could ever be the opposite. No, Father depends on Mother.

Armelle crouched down at the entrance, a hole low to the ground, and crawled through. The walls seemed to push away from each other the farther in she ventured until she could stand. The thirteen year old was standing in the middle of nothing.

Only dull colors illuminated around her. She held her breath, realizing the floor had slithered away from beneath her. Yet she seemed to be standing on solid ground.

A figure approached from the distance. Armelle squinted, trying to make out the person. It was short, and somewhat hunched over. It held a wooden stick in its right hand for support, which she couldn't see why, for it wasn't hobbling.

"Hello," it said in a very soothing, and surprisingly young monotonous voice.

"Hello," Armelle croaked, her tongue not quite fitting in her throat anymore.

Deciding to break the gap of silence between them, the girl continued, "Could you come a little closer?"

"Would you be afraid?" the figure asked in a low voice.

Armelle found herself nervously rubbing the button on the front of her dress in between her fingers. "Should I be afraid?"

"If you want to see me, then you must come to me. Walk."

Armelle immediately obeyed, suddenly almost prancing across the floor of colors.

"A romper," the figure murmured. That's when Armelle could finally see her.

She was an owl -the kind with ruffled worn out feathers, a petite golden beak, and a fluffy warm chest, all the size of a human -the kind that you would read about in fantasy stories.

Her eyes were the most intriguing. They were like big glass spheres that held memories of far more than a lifetime.

The girl was terrified and awestruck at the same time. This was the Future.

The Future seemed surprised. "You are not afraid?" she asked in her monotone voice.

Armelle could see why some would be scared. Her attire was ragged and her cane -oh, yes, the cane was already mentioned- was just as twisted as the tree they were inside of. But none of that mattered.

"No," Armelle replied, honestly. "But, I'm a bit anxious."

"What for?" the Future laughed warmly, and looked directly at her eyes. Armelle could see what she saw. The Future was looking at her soul.

The owl's eyes lit up and pulsed in a shade of chestnut brown; the kind that wraps itself around you into a big hug, then a blinding bronze; similar to when you stare at the sun, then a shimmering silver; the type of silver when your eyes rain teardrops, then a warm gold; impossible to even describe, and dissolved back into the black marbles of her eyes.

"Armelle," she laughed softly.

Deciding not to question how she knew her name, the girl stuttered, "Hello?"

"I have been longing to see you. I have encountered so many special people, but you, you are different. That can mean good or bad. In this case ...it is unfortunately bad."

It was like she had suddenly run into a wall. Her heart crashed into the words in front of her. Armelle had expected this conversation to be like in the books from America. She thought the Future was about to say something like, "You are the prophecy", or, "The world's destiny remains in your hands". But she had never imagined her fate to be naturally cursed.

Before she could ask, the Future shook her head, "I am sorry. You cannot avoid this. You are just that kind of person -thoughtful, adventurous, rebellious and even stubborn. These can be wonderful traits, but in time you will realize how dangerous they are. Danger creates fear. At some point in your life, you will have to face your greatest fear, which neither of us know yet."

Armelle bit her lip. A million potential answers flooded her mind.

"All I can do is guide you..."

As the Future continued, her thoughts were nothing but a blur.

Guide me to what? My greatest fear? Oh, isn't that wonderful? I can't change anything about my life!!

"...so, I will give you three gowns."

Whoops. She had missed a few things.

Armelle's cheeks flushed red as the Future handed her the dresses:

"First," the Future boomed, her voice suddenly sounding demanding and solemn.

"The frock, bronze as the sun."

Armelle looked at the small velvet attire, which will be described later in the chapters to come.

"Second, the gown, silver as the moon."

This gown was enormous! She had trouble looking for an opening for her head. It was like a carnival tent in there!

"Third and last, the robe, gold as the stars."

Armelle's eyes grew big. Every inch of the dress was covered with nothing but twinkling gold, which is clearly not your typical glitter.

"Thank you," Armelle began, but cut off the rest.

Original sentence: "Thank you, but why would I need these gowns?"

She figured that was already explained during her daydreaming state.

The Future nodded. Her work was done. The girl felt the wind swoosh past her as the owl grew smaller and smaller. But, her voice was still loud and clear:

"Farewell, Bear Princess!"

**********

"Bear Princess?! That's my name?! Oh, why thank you, Mother!!"

Armelle groaned as she continued to write to Dickon, muttering words of anger now and then. It was two o'clock in the morning, yet she couldn't fall asleep.

"Yes, Mother," she continued in a sarcastic voice. "I'm talking to you! Not Father! You were most likely the one who named me! That's why!"

Armelle stood up from her chair, kicking it as hard as she could. She clutched her foot, wincing.

The truth is, she would regret what she said that night, for her mother never had a chance to talk to her ever again.