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Breeze’s Quest
Breeze stared up into the sky, her ashy blonde hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, the full moon glowing brightly behind her. She let out a wistful sigh and floated deeper into dreamland.
“Breeze! Dinner!”
The loud call broke her train of thought. Blinking fast in shock, the girl strode back out of the woods into her house.
“How long were you back, Ma?” she asked as she entered.
“At least forty minutes,” the elder woman replied, setting a clay bowl of lentil soup in front of Breeze. “I tried calling you, but you were in too much of a daze.” Breeze giggled bashfully. All her life she had been called “a dreamer” by everyone in her village, and it was true.
A dusky brown barn owl came swooping in through the open window, and landed on a perch near the table.
“Welcome home, Lyre.” Breeze greeted the fowl, stroking her speckled feathers. Lyre chirped happily and began gnawing on the raw mouse meat that was placed in front of her. Just as the maker of the meal sat down, a knock on the door interrupted her. She rose to her feet and opened it.
“Good evening, Myrrh,” said a stout man in a silk scarf. “Thank you again for your delightful catering at my daughter’s wedding.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Myrrh replied politely.
“I have just come to inform you that a new shipment of plantains has arrived at my shop. They are in high demand, so I thought I’d let you know if you wanted to purchase some.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Basil. I’ll have a look in the morning.” smiled Myrrh.
The woman sat back down at the table to accompany Breeze and Lyre. They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Find anything interesting today, honey?” she asked with a tired smile. Breeze laughed softly and swirled her spoon around in her soup. “You always ask me that,” she said, “but nothing ever happens around here, you know? Why is it like that?” She fiddled with the pendant around her neck, waiting for a reply.
Myrrh ran her hand over her scalp, too exhausted to answer deep questions. “It’s a tiny village,” she shrugged. “And honestly, there are a lot of old farts living in these parts who want a simple life with no drama.” Breeze scoffed at this. Lyre let out an exasperated twitter, echoing the girl’s annoyance. Breeze said nothing more, and continued mindlessly eating her dinner.
***
“Breeze! Look a’ this!” called a voice. Breeze whipped around, her silky hair swishing behind her. There stood Clover Toad, his round cheeks flushed with joy. “It’s my brilliant creation!” he exclaimed. His plump mother waddled up next to him, with a wide smile.
“I’m so proud of my genius boy!” she gushed. “Can you believe that he’s only eleven and already making such masterpieces?” She placed a chubby hand on her son’s shoulder. They both grinned broadly, their walnut-hued eyes shining in synchrony.
Breeze stared at them in jealousy. She knew that Myrrh was not her birth mother; her fair sandy locks were nothing like her ma’s thick, ebony head of hair, their skin several shades apart, and their eyes both enticing yet very different. When she had been handed into Myrrh’s custody, no-one had mentioned anything about the child’s past. Breeze wondered if her real parents were out there, if they were even alive. She barely noticed Clover showing her the scales he’d built, her head whirling with thoughts.
Breeze gazed off far into the horizon, agony written on her face. She felt a soft brush of wings as Lyre landed on her shoulder. The fowl crooned comfortingly at the girl’s ear.
“Hey, beautiful.” sighed Breeze, instantly comforted by her companion’s presence. She pulled a lizard’s tail out of her satchel and gave it to Lyre. She gobbled it up gratefully. “I wish I knew who my real parents were,” Breeze said sadly, holding her pendant in her hands. It was the only thing that remained of her past. Then she laughed at herself, running her fingers over the delicate rose quartz wrapped in shining silver. “It’s not like you would know. You aren’t any less of a mystery than me.” It was true, the origin of her feathered friend was unknown, but the second they had met they knew that they would be best friends. Breeze pulled her journal out from her satchel and began to write in it:
Dear Journal,
Why don’t I know my parents? Where do they live?
Are they dead? I love Myrrh but she’ll never be the same as my real ma and pa. And besides, I…
She stopped and shook her head. She could write a thousand words and still the dull ache in her heart would continue to bother her. A tear slipped out of her eye.
“Come on Lyre,” she said, her voice full of determination. “We can’t stick around. I need to know who I really am.” Lyre chirped in question. Without saying a word more, the girl marched into her house, thankful that her ma wasn’t there. She tucked a few jars of preserves into her satchel, and picked up a cotton dress and rabbit-skin coat from her wardrobe. As she did this, she spotted a clay ocarina lying on her bedside table. Even though it wasn’t essential, Breeze loved music and couldn’t help but pack it in her satchel with the rest of her supplies. Lyre flew off Breeze’s shoulder, her wings beating silently. She returned moments later with a small machete between her talons.
“Ah-ha!” Breeze cried triumphantly, taking the machete and tucking it in her bag. “Thanks, Lyre. That’ll come in handy.” She looked around, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Okay,” she breathed, clutching her pendant. “Let’s head off.” Her boots pounding on the hard ground, Breeze ran and ran until she passed the village borders, adventuring into the unknown.
Breeze stared up into the sky, her ashy blonde hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, the full moon glowing brightly behind her. She let out a wistful sigh and floated deeper into dreamland.
“Breeze! Dinner!”
The loud call broke her train of thought. Blinking fast in shock, the girl strode back out of the woods into her house.
“How long were you back, Ma?” she asked as she entered.
“At least forty minutes,” the elder woman replied, setting a clay bowl of lentil soup in front of Breeze. “I tried calling you, but you were in too much of a daze.” Breeze giggled bashfully. All her life she had been called “a dreamer” by everyone in her village, and it was true.
A dusky brown barn owl came swooping in through the open window, and landed on a perch near the table.
“Welcome home, Lyre.” Breeze greeted the fowl, stroking her speckled feathers. Lyre chirped happily and began gnawing on the raw mouse meat that was placed in front of her. Just as the maker of the meal sat down, a knock on the door interrupted her. She rose to her feet and opened it.
“Good evening, Myrrh,” said a stout man in a silk scarf. “Thank you again for your delightful catering at my daughter’s wedding.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Myrrh replied politely.
“I have just come to inform you that a new shipment of plantains has arrived at my shop. They are in high demand, so I thought I’d let you know if you wanted to purchase some.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Basil. I’ll have a look in the morning.” smiled Myrrh.
The woman sat back down at the table to accompany Breeze and Lyre. They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Find anything interesting today, honey?” she asked with a tired smile. Breeze laughed softly and swirled her spoon around in her soup. “You always ask me that,” she said, “but nothing ever happens around here, you know? Why is it like that?” She fiddled with the pendant around her neck, waiting for a reply.
Myrrh ran her hand over her scalp, too exhausted to answer deep questions. “It’s a tiny village,” she shrugged. “And honestly, there are a lot of old farts living in these parts who want a simple life with no drama.” Breeze scoffed at this. Lyre let out an exasperated twitter, echoing the girl’s annoyance. Breeze said nothing more, and continued mindlessly eating her dinner.
***
“Breeze! Look a’ this!” called a voice. Breeze whipped around, her silky hair swishing behind her. There stood Clover Toad, his round cheeks flushed with joy. “It’s my brilliant creation!” he exclaimed. His plump mother waddled up next to him, with a wide smile.
“I’m so proud of my genius boy!” she gushed. “Can you believe that he’s only eleven and already making such masterpieces?” She placed a chubby hand on her son’s shoulder. They both grinned broadly, their walnut-hued eyes shining in synchrony.
Breeze stared at them in jealousy. She knew that Myrrh was not her birth mother; her fair sandy locks were nothing like her ma’s thick, ebony head of hair, their skin several shades apart, and their eyes both enticing yet very different. When she had been handed into Myrrh’s custody, no-one had mentioned anything about the child’s past. Breeze wondered if her real parents were out there, if they were even alive. She barely noticed Clover showing her the scales he’d built, her head whirling with thoughts.
Breeze gazed off far into the horizon, agony written on her face. She felt a soft brush of wings as Lyre landed on her shoulder. The fowl crooned comfortingly at the girl’s ear.
“Hey, beautiful.” sighed Breeze, instantly comforted by her companion’s presence. She pulled a lizard’s tail out of her satchel and gave it to Lyre. She gobbled it up gratefully. “I wish I knew who my real parents were,” Breeze said sadly, holding her pendant in her hands. It was the only thing that remained of her past. Then she laughed at herself, running her fingers over the delicate rose quartz wrapped in shining silver. “It’s not like you would know. You aren’t any less of a mystery than me.” It was true, the origin of her feathered friend was unknown, but the second they had met they knew that they would be best friends. Breeze pulled her journal out from her satchel and began to write in it:
Dear Journal,
Why don’t I know my parents? Where do they live?
Are they dead? I love Myrrh but she’ll never be the same as my real ma and pa. And besides, I…
She stopped and shook her head. She could write a thousand words and still the dull ache in her heart would continue to bother her. A tear slipped out of her eye.
“Come on Lyre,” she said, her voice full of determination. “We can’t stick around. I need to know who I really am.” Lyre chirped in question. Without saying a word more, the girl marched into her house, thankful that her ma wasn’t there. She tucked a few jars of preserves into her satchel, and picked up a cotton dress and rabbit-skin coat from her wardrobe. As she did this, she spotted a clay ocarina lying on her bedside table. Even though it wasn’t essential, Breeze loved music and couldn’t help but pack it in her satchel with the rest of her supplies. Lyre flew off Breeze’s shoulder, her wings beating silently. She returned moments later with a small machete between her talons.
“Ah-ha!” Breeze cried triumphantly, taking the machete and tucking it in her bag. “Thanks, Lyre. That’ll come in handy.” She looked around, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Okay,” she breathed, clutching her pendant. “Let’s head off.” Her boots pounding on the hard ground, Breeze ran and ran until she passed the village borders, adventuring into the unknown.