Submission (#320) Approved

Mazin had spent the day tumbling around in the vegetable gardens of Faerindell with his half-sister Remillia while their mother helped work the fields in exchange for a few stories as she collected the produce. Every so often Mazin would hear her warn them not to get too rough but it was hard for his half-sister. Remillia was animated and boisterous. At times she was herself and others acting like the protagonist from a story of some kind. To Mazin who was fairly well behaved and lacked the same presence Remi seemed to capture his half-sister was both inspiring and a bit daunting. She seemed to have left an impression on him though and she elevated him at times to a brave sort of role he sought to live up to.

At least Mazin always thought his father was quite brave and that was who he wanted to grow up to be like. Remi, who was a crowd pleaser, generally played into this unspoken knowledge. Off scampering they went, through the tall grass and into a meadow near the land owner’s house. Remillia rolled around in the small buds and abruptly stood. Mazin was just about to follow her until he reached the edge of the meadow.

“Wait!” Remillia cried out, her voice strong and perhaps a bit too confident for the role she was trying to portray. “You can’t come in here. The flowers are enchanted. If you walk into them you’ll fall asleep! You have to break the spell on the meadow first.” She insisted with a forced yawn that was followed by her dramatically sinking to her knees and ultimately collapsing into the bed of flowers. Of course this was all an act but Mazin, being the younger of the two, tended to get really into this trail of make believe.

In a panic he turned quick, pausing only to call out to his sister. “I-I’ll rescue you. Just wait for me!” As though she had a choice. She opened one eye to watch him run off into the distance, making a line for their mother. The usually quiet kittom came to his mother quite flustered. “Mother! Mother! The flowers. They’re enchanted. Remi’s going to be asleep forever. I have to rescue her.” He piped up in a small voice, evidently quite flustered by this game. To most Mazin probably would not have even made sense but this was a frequent occurrence when the family was traveling. The changing landscapes and sceneries often inspired Remi and Mazin was quick to follow his sister.

Rynne’s smile was too gentle that for a moment the kittom’s immersion almost faltered until the mother caught herself and her expression grew stern. She paused, thinking, before digging through a bag she carried with her. Out of it she procured a spare feather for one of her pens and an ink pad of sorts that she dipped her paw into. Marking a paw print of ink on Mazin’s forehead she looked at him very seriously, trying hard not to crack a smile. “You have been marked with a protective spell that will dispel the enchantment on the flowers. Grace your sister with this magic feather to wake her up.” She set it before him and he nodded, picking the feather up in his mouth before bounding through the patch. Even with his urgency Rynne could see he carefully stepped to avoid the crops, something Remillia was not always as good at.

Mazin made it back to the edge of the meadow almost looking as though he was holding his breath before stepping into the flowers. Nothing happened. A feeling of bravery bubbled up in him as he trotted over to the collapsed Remillia. Setting the feather on her head it tickled her nose a bit. Remi had intended to have her reawakening be a graceful scene but the chance of that was lost when she sneezed. Remillia’s eyes opened quickly and her nose twitched after the reaction but she played it down as though the act had been intentional. “Thank you. Had you not listened perhaps I would have slept forever.” She said dramatically, ignoring the paw print mark from their mother that was on his forehead.

“Please escort me back to safety now.” She said acting quite proper as though she were a princess or something of that nature. Mazin nodded and the kittoms made their way back to the field, watching their mother work. In the distance they could see the rolling hills of farmland and the faint pink of the lands around Elenion. Remi had told him that the city there felt magical probably because of all the colors from the flowers. Some day he looked forward to seeing it.

Later that evening as the sun set the family gathered around a fire in a pit outside the farm owner’s house. Rynne had set up a tent but enjoyed the quiet times like these. Unlike more forested areas the farmlands here had a lovely view of the setting sun and the stars that filled the sky afterward. Mazin settled down next to Rynne waiting patiently for a story.
“Shall we hear a special story tonight?” She asked and the kittoms nodded curiously. Remi always loved her mother’s stories, perhaps because something about them felt like a home away from home. Even when they traveled far Mazin also felt a sense of warmth from the tales Rynne told. She had a way of storytelling that was enchanting and familiar at the same time.

Mazin curled up beside her to listen to many tales about various travelers she had met and the bewildering sights they had seen and a special story about how she had met a different herald long before either of them were born. Remillia must have been more tired than she let on that she was though since Mazin could see her trying to keep her eyes open as she listened but soon she fell asleep soundly. Mazin on the other hand found it hard to be drowsy. The fresh air of the hillsides and the thoughts of the journeys he would have kept him up even when his mother started to yawn.

“Mother? Will I grow up to be a hero someday? Or someone as great as father?” He ventured the questions since Remi was sleeping. Usually Mazin was more reserved about discussing his admiration and goals. Rynne’s expression was soft. “You’re already kind like your father was. I’m sure he would be proud. Whether or not you grow up to be a hero will be up to you. I think you’ll have to find out what that means first. Heroes are often spoken of as though the things they have done are large and grand but often it’s the little things that are just as important.” She patted him on the back and then shifted to move Remi into the tent. Mazin remembered the faint feeling of dozing off and his mother picking him up to set him on the soft blanket in the tent. The stories played out and the stories told in the evenings were some of the most valuable times Mazin spent with his family.