Story Snacks: A Collection of Bite-Sized Ideas

Reunion

Celine wriggled her bare toes in the damp dirt, drawing her woolen shawl tight around her bare shoulders. Her attempt at garnering warmth was no match for the crisp chill of early morning, and with each exhale, a puff of white vapor clouded the still air. All she could hear were her own quiet breaths and those of Maisy, her favorite chestnut mare, who slumbered in her stall to the right. Her hand absently fell to the golden stud in her right ear, etched with the emblem of the kingdom--a raven in flight. She had no doubt her mother would scold her for having the audacity to traipse around the stables—the territory of servants—sans shoes, before the sun even graced the sky, but she didn't much care. Not today.

Today, lightning sparked in her veins, thunder pounded in her chest. As rays of orange and pink sunlight began to encroach the East-facing window, tinting the dust, filtering through the tiniest of gaps in the walls, Celine leaned back onto her makeshift chair, breathing in the comforting scent of hay. At times like these, she couldn't help but to become lost in fantasy.

It was a vision in which she often indulged, comprised of thousands of townspeople, dressed in their most colorful attire so that they resembled the tropical birds in Father's encyclopedias. The masses, as she pictured them, hoisted banners of navy and gold, raising a joyous commotion as they congregated outside the castle's brilliantly ornate wrought-iron gates. Suddenly, one eagle-eyed carouser would spot a singular figure on the horizon, and his palpable excitement would be so contagious as to turn the cacophony of voices into a crescendo, reaching its peak as, one by one, they could see her astride her horse, leading the band of royal knights. Her posture would be impeccable, rapier strapped to her side as one hand expertly held the reins and the other waved to her public. Their admiration would not be lost on her, they were hers to protect, to defend—

"Lady Celine."

She flinched, eyelids fluttering.

In an instant, her daydream retreated, a wave drawn back out to sea. In front of her now stood Bertrum, one of the grooms, a stout and sturdy thing whose shiny bald head barely reached five feet off of the ground. A bag of oats was slung over his shoulder and the warmth of his smile was all Celine needed to fend off the cold. She took his outstretched hand and got to her feet, brushing loose straw from her hair with a sheepish grin.

But Bertrum didn't seem angry at her. On the contrary, his grey eyes sparkled with mirth. "Your uncle and the knights return from patrol today, yes?" Celine nodded. "And he'll be there with them?" Her nodding became more enthusiastic, and the old man's thick mustache twitched as he laughed. "You may be able to catch sight of them if you hurry."

In one smooth motion, Bertrum whipped out a single gold key from the pocket of his breeches, pressing it into her chilly palm. Celine's eyes lit up immediately, she squeaked out a grateful 'Thank you!' and dashed through the sleepy stables to a certain door, hidden away from plain sight and always locked.

When she inserted the key, jiggling it a bit, the rusty lock groaned in protest, but soon clicked into place. In a flurry, Celine swung it open, leaping once, twice, and on her third try managing to yank a frayed rope on the ceiling and spring backward to make way for the old, wooden ladder that dropped from the rafters. Bathed in a square of sunrise from the opened trapdoor, the girl bit back a smile as she hiked up her skirt and nimbly climbed through the hole and onto the roof, shielding her eyes against the sudden brightness.

From her new vantage point, Celine could see just a hint of the grassy horizon beyond the gate. She inched closer to the roof's edge, straining her eyes in search of any movement as the wind sent her dress and hair fluttering. Here, unmoving, she waited. A single bird's song floated to her ears, but all she longed for were trumpets.

Just as the prospect of shivering on the roof for an indeterminate amount of time began to dull her excitement, Celine heard one faint, warbling note in the distance. Reinvigorated, she whooped as her eyes finally caught a blurred glimpse of the returning patrol.

Though she was too far away to really hear them, Celine was sure the sound of thundering hooves filled her ears, syncing with her heartbeat. Above the raging percussion blared royal fanfare, accompanied by the low creaking of the heavy gate as it inched open. Unable to contain herself, the young girl practically dove through the trapdoor, tore out of the stables and sprinted toward the gate, her feet flying and the wind gusting at her back, urging her onward.

The first person she saw was her uncle Edward, leading the procession on his snow-white stallion, surrounded by his squadron of lower-ranking young knights. The whole group of them were almost ethereal to Celine, sitting tall on their steeds, their shining hair tousled by the breeze. But her uncle was by far the most regal, the navy-and-gold crest on his shoulder glowed blindingly in the morning sun, and when he caught sight of his favorite niece, his kind eyes crinkled and he raised his hand in salutation.

Celine, cheeks flushed from exertion and panting heavily, bowed deeply before standing at attention, trying her hardest not to look like she sprinted the whole way. "Uncle," she greeted. "I am glad for your squad's safe return."

"I am happy to see you are well, my lion-hearted one." Her uncle replied as Celine bounced restlessly on the balls of her feet. Her uncle cocked an eyebrow at her fidgeting. "You were more worried about him, am I right? He's a bit further back with the others, I'm sure he missed you."

A bit embarrassed at being so easily seen through, Celine took this as her cue. She bowed to her uncle once more and weaved her way through the returning men, careful not to spook any of the horses as she looked for her friend. Where is he? She wondered.

"Woof!"

Suddenly, she was hit with force of a battering ram as one hundred pounds of fur and dog drool sent her sprawling onto the dew-covered grass. She couldn't be mad, though, at last, there he was!

As a very young child, Celine had been afraid of dogs, especially the big mastiffs that were the knights' travelling companions. It wasn't until she became friends with the runt of the litter, sneaking him table scraps, spending hours chasing each other through the fields, that she changed her tune and became rather partial to dogs. And with her fondness came her unyielding desire to become captain of the guard like her uncle before her.

"Bartholomew!" Celine crowed, throwing her arms around the hulking beast's wrinkled neck and squeezing him tight. "I'm so happy you're back, puppy!"

The 'puppy' woofed in response, a deep baritone that vibrated against the girl's chest. She moved her hands to his floppy ears and scratched them affectionately, giggling as his nose brushed against her pockets. When he smelled nothing of interest, the mastiff matched Celine's gaze with mournful brown eyes.

"Sorry, boy. I don't have any snacks for you right now, but we can get some," she assured, getting to her feet and gesturing for her playmate to follow. "Come on!"

As they loped toward the castle once more, Celine felt unbelievably fortunate. She and her partner in crime were reunited at last!