Heroes of Dreamland, Book 6 1/2: The Last Sakuranoki (OLD)

The Star Sword

Laughing, she ran down the path towards the village as fast as her feet could carry her. "Father!" she shouted again, not even pausing to think about how he wasn't due back for another week at the least or to wonder where the others were.

Grinning, the Brownie continued to walk towards her, catching her up and swinging her around above him in a circle as soon as she reached him. Fondly, he bent over and touched his forehead to hers (he was tall for a Brownie, and she was a bit short for a Fairy,) then asked her warmly, "And how's my little swan doing?"

He had always called her his little swan, in reference to the story of the ugly duckling. Just like the ugly duckling had become a beautiful swan, he said, she'd find her wings someday. "And then everyone will see just how wrong they've always been about you," he always said. She didn't believe that in the least, but it was still one of the countless reasons why she loved her adoptive father.

Still laughing joyfully, she assured him, "I'm doing well, Father. How are you? And where are Mother and all of the others?"

His eyes grew sad for the shortest of seconds, and then he smiled at her again. "They're still out delivering the sakuranoki, just like they're supposed to be doing. I'm just getting too old for all of the adventure, and so I came home early. That isn't a crime, is it?" He looked at her in fake-worry, as if scared of her coming 'judgement.'

Crossing her arms, she play-scolded, "I think you're just getting to be too lazy." After a moment, though, her smile vanished as she truly scolded, "You didn't come back because you were worried about me, did you? I'm practically grown, Father, I can watch myself for a few weeks."

"Of course you can," he agreed reassuringly, then promised, "I really did come back because I was tired. You had nothing to do with it, although I am very glad to have your company again."

Smiling again, she took his hand in her free hand that wasn't carrying her notebook and led him towards their cottage. "Well, it's good to have company again, anyway. I'm glad you're home, Father. I missed you." Growing firmer, she assured him, "But don't worry, I didn't miss you too badly."

Suddenly, he stopped in place and turned towards her, gently placing his calloused, firm hands on her shoulders. Eyes full of concern, he questioned, "Cherry, did you have any more dreams?"

Hesitantly, she nodded once. "Yes, Father. Like always, I wrote them down, just like you asked me to." Shaking her head, she then sighed, "I don't know why you want me to write them down. They're just dreams."

Smiling weakly, he agreed, "Of course they are."

Why did he care about her dreams, you ask? Well, Cherry's dreams were sort of strange. They were so vivid and real, and none of the characters were like anything she had ever seen before. They were rather big (again, they'd be quite small to us,) and so strangely built... Round and puffy, with short little arms that were occasionally gloved. Her parents had always sworn that they'd never heard of anything like that and that her subconscious had just made it up, and she believed them. Of course she believed them, she had no reason not to. They were her parents, in her eyes, they knew everything.

But every dream, she was watching some event play out in front of her. Or sometimes, it was just words being written out in front of her as she stood there and read them. Either way, it was always so very real, like she was really there watching it happen. She had had dreams like this almost as far back as she could remember, and her parents had always had her write them down, every single one of them. When she was so young she didn't know how to write yet, she'd illustrate them. She was good at drawing, she always had been. But really, why did they care if she kept a record of the dreams or not? She just had a vivid imagination while she was sleeping, that was all. There was nothing important or real about them.