Of Spinning Gold and Song

| Three | The Plan

When I reemerged from my little room, I was surprised to see a small fire burning in the fireplace. As soon as he saw me, Bradyn got up and pressed a warm cup into my hands. "Tea," he said. "I thought you'd like something warm. The last thing we want happening is for you to catch your death of cold."

"Thanks," I said. He motioned for me to sit by the fire and I perched on the edge of the one small chair we had in the room, the one he had just vacated. I felt the heat instantly and it helped my chilled form.

"How was the mam?" he asked.

"Oh, she was awful," I replied, trying to keep my voice from quivering. "She doesn't even know who she is today. She didn't even look at me, or respond to anything I said. I doubt that she even knows she has two daughters, for she surely doesn't give a shite that Rosie is, is, is-" I closed my eyes and took a sip of the tea, not wanting to finish that sentence. Not being able to.

"It might not be true," said Bradyn lowly. "She could still be alive. And we'll go get her. I'm sure Augustin will want to leave as soon as the rain stops. It can't storm for that long. And dragons are beasts of fire; the dragon will be weakened in this rain."

The way he spat Augustin's name did not escape me; in light of everything it was enough to rile me up. "Why do you guys hate each other so much? It gets old, you know. Aside from Rosie, you two are the people I care most about in the world. It would be nice if you could stand to be around each other without quarreling."

"Rosie doesn't like him either," he pointed out.

"Can you not! Stop beating around the bush and own up."

He winced. "I'm sorry. Believe me Sparrow, I love her too. She's just as much my sister as she is yours, and I want nothing more in the world than for her to be safe and sound right here right now."

Despite my flush of anger in the moment, I couldn't deny him there. He spoke the truth.

Bradyn and I met over ten years ago, when I was around seven and he a year older, and Rosie just a babe. At first we merely childhood friends that played in the woods together. We would sing to the animals and go racing through the trees, plotting out a new path with each sunrise.

I had a few other friends, female, but none so close as Bradyn. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that his mam and mine were friends, perhaps it was because of all the children who lived near me, he was the closest to my age. Either way, by the end of my eighth summer we were inseparable.

Then, when I was twelve and Rosie was six, came that fateful day when Pap disappeared. By then Bradyn was almost fourteen, and he found it in himself to help our family out, bringing us food and helping to watch Rosie. And in our grief, we never noticed that Mam was losing it, a little more every day, until slowly she lost herself.

She had no idea who she was; she was just a shell. Daily she insisted that she was a princess, that she was going to be the queen. Sometimes she still thought herself a child, and spoke of preparations for her upcoming wedding. Most of the time she said nothing, merely staring off into the space around her with a vacant look on her vapid face.

That was when I had to step up to lead our family and take care of Rosie by myself. I took up spinning, the one thing my mam had taught me before she lost it, and began to sell my threads to feed Rosie. Unfortunately, I hated spinning with every fibre of my being. But that didn't matter because it was the only thing that could provide us food.

The whole time, Bradyn was there as everything I used to know, and the steady family I used to think we were fell apart. He stepped up to help me take care of Rosie, whom he had grown to love as much as I. On market days, he would help me sell my cloth, and we would split the price of a booth. When the ceiling started leaking in the spring of my fourteenth year, we climbed to the roof together to patch it up. From time to time, we would still run to the woods together, climbing trees and trying our hardest in the failing game to retain the last bit of the innocence of youth we might have had.