Waiting for the Sunrise

Chapter Three

Fourteen months later...

Anna was only a baby when her mother died. An infant, not much younger than Fynn, but old enough to detect the swirling miasma surrounding the tattered remains of her family.

Edmund had tried his best to hide his tears from his daughter. But forgetting was hard when Anna was the spitting image of Catherine. There were days when he'd hold her to his chest, their hearts beating in unison, and he'd pretend that it was his wife in his arms. There were days when he'd wish it had been Anna. As soon as those poisonous thoughts had crossed his mind he'd regret even thinking about it. He loved Anna, of course he did, she was his little girl. His little ray of sunshine. The light in his darkness.

But sometimes the mask slipped.

"Anana?" Fynn whispered as he climbed on to the chair next to a busy Anna. She lifted her head from her work, meeting the young child's bright blue eyes.

"What is it?"

"I can't sleep." He pouted. Anna smiled at the boy's confession, ruffling his messy blonde hair with her exhausted right hand.

“Can’t sleep?” She repeated quietly. “I have the perfect solution.” She took Fynn’s small dimpled hand in her own, leaving her school work splayed across her desk unfinished. Anna guided the boy into the kitchen, lifting his small body up on to the counter. He sat with wide weary eyes as she pulled out a clean glass and filled it with milk. She remembered the process clearly, swirling the milk with sticky golden honey, repeating the bedtime treat she had anticipated many times throughout her own childhood.

Anna could picture herself as a child the same age as Fynn - a sleepless sleeper longing for the warm embraces and gentle lullabies. Edmund used to prepare honey and milk for her on restless nights; they’d curl up by the fire and he’d read her a story about dragons, damsels in distress and charming knights carried by the loyal steed.

Those memories left the empty cavern of her heart aching. Happy memories were not common in Anna’s thoughts, far too often she’d think back to all the times Edmund had pushed her away and told her to grow up, the times she’d seen him cry uncontrollably. There had been far too many times when Edmund had delved into the liqueur cabinet.

Anna could admit that her childhood had not been a happy one, hardly bearable at times. She couldn’t count the times she’d stared at the edge of the forest wishing she could just escape into the sanctuary of the trees and never turn back. The amount of times she had dreamt of leaving the village and taking off for the city. They say people die out in the city. They say evil lurks in the city. But all Anna saw was freedom.

The forest had brought her Fynn and Fynn had brought her a glint of happiness. She gazed at his little face, the brightness of his eyes even in the dim candlelight, the pure innocence that radiated off of him. What would have become of her if it wasn’t for Fynn? Would she have run off into the forest with her wild dreams of the city lights? Perhaps, she was capable of such things. But Fynn had come into her life; she knew it to be a blessing not a curse like the townsfolk swore it to be. And so he became her sole responsibility.

“Anana, can you read me a story?” Fynn asked, placing the now empty glass on the surface beside him.

Anna nodded, “Of course. Which story would you like to hear?”

The boy cast his gaze across the swollen bookshelves; tortured by the decision. Behind each leather binding lay a magical world where dreams came true, adventures took place, and almost always had a happy ending. Fynn had each story memorised, he treated each character as his friend, he could read their thoughts as well as he could read the words printed on the page. He looked to Anna for help as he usually did.