31 Days of Writing – Day 4

(Author’s note: I’m getting really behind because of Independence Day. I plan to catch up today!)

Menapa and the Magic – Day 4

(Day 3)

“Honey, I felt what she did. I don’t know what we’re going to do about her.” Mirta stood with her hands resting on the back of a wooden dinner chair, staring at her husband, a dirty-faced man hunched over a bowl of chunky broth, with a spoon tucked between his fingers, and a hand on his knee.

He sighed and brought a spoonful to his mouth, slurping. “We’re not going to do anything about her. She’s our daughter.” He met her eyes with no resistance. “She’ll learn how to control it.”

“I’m not worried about that!” she snapped, and when his eyebrows rose in surprise, she continued after taking a breath. “I’m worried she’ll just become another adventurer. She won’t have a future if she’s recruited by the Maelstrom.”

“The army won’t even know about her,” he countered, though he wasn’t sure. It seemed that the Maelstrom was full of soldiers with the unique powers his wife had described. After another slurp of his broth, he asked her again, “There was no one else around?”

Her mouth tightened, eyes narrowing to slits. One of the first questions her husband had asked her had been “Is it possible someone else used that kind of power and you just didn’t see it?” She had assured him in most definite words that she had not made a mistake.

“Sorry, okay, okay.” He waved a hand, dismissing his reluctance to believe her. “I’ll take her to the Arcanists’ guild tomorrow.” He pushed his bowl away from him, scooting his chair back to stand. “Don’t worry,” he told her, brushing her hair from her face; “it’s really a blessing. You know how rare it is to have that kind of skill.”

“I don’t want her to be exploited, Wirvan,” she said, pressing her cheek into the rough canvas covering his chest while wrapping her arms around him, taking comfort with his warmth.

Later as he put his daughter to bed, with a careful tucking of her blanket around her, he told her, “Your mom told me how brave you were today.”

She brightened instantly as the lantern light danced across her face. “I used nature! It’s always there; I love it, daddy.” She gave a little wiggle with her shoulders, excited.

“It is, yes, daughter,” he hesitated, wishing he could explain, “Nature is all around us, and protects us.” He motioned all around the two of them.

She nodded vigorously, eyes wide, staring at different parts of the ceiling.

Leaning in, whispering in a hushed voice, “But you shouldn’t rely on it to save you. Make good choices, and stay safe. Nature protects us, but it gets tired of doing it all the time.”

“Aww, why does it get tired?”

“Well, it’s just like your mom getting tired of picking up your clothes.”

She cocked her head questioningly, “But daddy,” she paused to think, “How is that the same? Nature doesn’t wear clothes.”

“If you relied on your mother to pick up your clothes all the time, how long do you think it’d take for her to get mad at you?”

“Oh,” she realized.

“You can’t ever abuse the generosity of nature.” He kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep okay? Tomorrow, I’ll take you into town and we can get those fish sticks you like so much.”

“I’m sleeping right now!” she exclaimed, and clenched her eyes closed.

“Sshhh, shhh, that’s a good girl.”

After a small giggle, she pulled the quilt up over her mouth and sank lower in the bed. “Good night daddy,” she called.

“Good night sweety.”


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