A Frolic of Children

A Revelry of Children

  By Robin Dalton

  Copyright 2014 Robin Dalton

  Discover other titles by Robin Dalton:

  Everyday Dangers

  Tea for Two, Justice For All

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  The stranger had journeyed to a small town of Long Ears settled deep in the desert. She had seen a great many towns housing a great variety of people and things, dozens of different races. Truth be told, the little oasis, bustling and pristine as it was even in the desert heat, barely interested her at all. Its population of rabbit-like residents barely interested her at all. The stranger stopped there anyway. It might even be said that she stopped there especially because the once bustling trading hub had grown so stagnant and small.

  If nothing else, it had a great deal of potential now.

  She sat peaceful and still as a statue on the edge of a fountain. Her back was rigid, her hands resting on her knees. Her eyes were closed, but she stared straight ahead and the passers-by still suspected with a sense of disquiet that she was nevertheless aware of every one of them.

  She sat peacefully, unflinching even as the sun climbed higher and beat down mercilessly on her, exposed as she was in the little open plaza where the fountain was located. Even when it beat down on her, when sweat ran down her face, she sat peacefully. As the sun sank lower, she sat peacefully. Eventually, the curious onlookers began to ignore her, their own pressing business overcoming their curiosity and concern. They turned their faces from her, instead hurrying to conclude their business as night fell.

  Only one even thought to approach the stranger. A small Long Eared girl kept her eyes fixed on the stranger as they walked.

  “Mother, who is that?”

  “It doesn’t matter, dear. Keep walking, now, keep walking. We must be home to fix dinner.”

  “But Mother…”

  “Keep walking, Mallie, keep walking.” Now the mother grabbed Mallie’s hand and pulled her on, so forcibly that Mallie nearly dropped her day’s purchases. But still, Mallie kept her gaze fixed on the girl sitting by the fountain, and as she was yanked around the corner she thought she saw the girl’s eyes flicker open. She thought she saw one eye – a truly striking deep, dark blue that was never naturally seen in these parts – close shut in a wink.

  Though she knew she probably shouldn’t, the little Long Ear named Mallie thought about the stranger all evening, though her mother sent her off to her chores anytime she mentioned it. She made up more chores when Mallie kept on mentioning it, but couldn’t be certain when Mallie was thinking about it.

  The girl had looked lonely, but at the same time she had looked somehow, strangely whole, in a way that Mallie hadn’t known she’d never seen before until she’d seen the look today. She had seemed to be a part of the landscape, a part of the world.

  “Well, what does it matter?” asked her brother Tallie, when she mentioned it in a hushed voice after dinner as they took their plates to the small stone basin to be washed. “It doesn’t mean anything to us. The village doesn’t accept strangers, you know that. If she’s not gone by morning…” He didn’t have to finish.

  “Then why is she just sitting there?” demanded Mallie. “I think she’s planning something. She winked at me.”

  “Maybe she had dust in her eyes.”

  “Her eyes were closed all day, Fuzz Brain! And she was winking at me!” Mallie put a paw to her lips in thought. “I don’t even know what she was. She had wings! And she had horns! Big, sharp horns!”

  This time it was Tallie’s turn to put a paw to his lips. “I’ve never heard of anything like that…” He looked up, eyes fearful. “Mallie, what could she be? Is she dangerous? She could hurt us, Mallie! She sounds like a monster! Shouldn’t we warn Mother? Or Father? Or the Elders?”

  Mallie bit her lip. She did not want anything to happen to the strange girl on the fountain. She was strange, but harmless. Mallie was sure of that. The girl was harmless. She just looked different, which admittedly had become increasingly uncommon in their little settlement as of late. She knew that they used to see people from all over as they passed through on various business and stopped to trade, but somehow that hadn’t been happening so much anymore. Now, the Long Ears mostly traded among themselves, huddled together against the desert’s many dangers.

  Her brother was adamant, however, that staying safe within the boundaries of their community was best. After all, he still bore a scar just below his right ear where one of the many monsters that roamed the desert had nearly killed him. Only Long Ears belonged in this village, unless they had something to trade. Any other arrangement stirred up the beasts too badly.

  When her mother came to shunt them both off to bed, she gave Mallie a clip along the ear and echoed her brother’s sentiments. Mallie scowled at Tallie as they both climbed into bed, scowled at him for being the sensible one that Mother secretly favored. Mallie herself still dreamed of days like when she was little, when she was so little that her mother carried her in her arms instead of bundles and parcels. If she closed her eyes and remembered, Mallie could still see those days at the market. She could still see herself, sitting on a stool and playing with her dolls and watching the parade of people go by. There had been people of all shapes and sizes and colors – Sanubians and Sand Runners and Wehrs and Elves and Pahnjuns and Promontorians and Feathered Ones. It had been a diverse parade of life that she’d never tired of watching, even as young as she’d been. It was a funny thing, though, that for as clear as her memories still were of that time, Mallie still had no idea of just who or what that stranger could have been or where she could have come from.

  Now there was only war, however, a war worse than any that had come to Yiwt in years past. There was war, and now there was only her own kind at the market. There were only Long Ears, small and brown-furred and bitter.

  Mallie kept the image in her mind, the image of the parade, as she drifted off to sleep. Tallie, sensible and dull and always living in the present, was already snoring.