Horses dragged a carriage across the Guardian's forest as it was usual. The Guardian, as usual, approached the carriage and whispered to the hackman. As usual, the ones inside the carriage were bondaged. They would not dare to covet a mere look at the Guardian.
It was known the Guardian detested the curiosity of man but was willing to cooperate if you possessed something he wanted.
The carriage had inside an older woman, a boy and a girl. A prince and a princess traveling away from their kingdom to a safe place. Orla whispered to Ciaran nonsense while the carriage remained still. Clodagh was silent. The girl chuckled and snorted. The boy, irritated, pulled her hair. She let out a moan and aimed a slap on his face but instead hit her hand with a door. She screamed but was hushed by Ciaran, who sounded pleased. She pulled up her bondaged enough to see the boys' feet.
Orla remembered what Clodagh had said. No man is allowed to see what the Guardian looked like. She had asked why, but there was no response. Instead, Ciaran said " You might die".
She could guess he lied, but if it was not death, what was it.
Orla sneaked around a windowless wooden box until she found a crack that faced the horses
Through it, she could see green showered in white flowers. Not a face but the trembling covered in dirt tiny hands of a boy. He caressed a horse while the hackman unfolded a tiny metal container. She wondered if the guardian had sent a boy to take his treasure. If he didn't want people to know that he liked tiny containers.
In seconds, a gasp interrupted Orla. Ciaran had catched her peeking.
"I wondered why you had stopped squirming around" Ciaran said with a loud voice.
"Chliden! Behave, this is no time for such display of .."
" I didn't do anything!" Orla Interupted.
The carriage rocked and began to move. Orla, one last time, peaked through the cracks only to find a foggy dark path of mud.
She wondered if she was the reason their meeting had shortened. The man leading the horses knocked on the door. Her heart palpitated, and she felt her choker tighten around her neck.
"Ma'am." He said with a smile. "You may come out, we have arrived." His eyes curved upwards and his lips thinned in a curve downwards. His eyes seemed to pop from dark empty holes. Such wicked gestures should not recall a smile, and yet, Clodagh seemed to entertain him.
Orla stepped down to dry land once again in a different scenario from her previous encounters. Ciaran, after her, disoriented and more focused on the outer disrespect Orla had for their mother's directions.
Clodagh explained to them that they would return home once their father evidenced it was safe to.
Although she was sincerely worried, they were not at all. Instead, they enjoyed the very first time they could experience a life outside the concrete walls of their kingdom. A home where they could all sleep in the same room. Ciaran was not acostumed to speaking freely in front of Clodagh. She was the queen. After all, someone was not very approachable. His relationship with her differed from Orla's, whose hair was braided by her hands every day before going to sleep.
Orla was not a shy child. She exuded confidence with no elegance. Her voice could reach you across a field, and yet, she could never look the king in the eyes. The king was a cold man Ciaran could spend a day with once a week. With no words across or even a glance.
The three shared a bed in a room with a balcony. Instead of a door leading to it, there were billowing curtains.
Clodagh handed a hairless doll to Orla.She said it was given to her by a maid. It was meant as a welcoming gift to Orla.
Ciaran could not help carrying his body to corners in the room, keeping himself from being a hindrance.
He stepped into the balcony. From there, he had a clear sight of the woods around the tower. He leaned on the pillars and pretended to be interested while Clodagh and Orla talked. While spying, he thought he saw a light dim out in the middle of the woods.
He was curious but not worried. He thought a maid could have crossed the woods while going home.
Orla whined and cried for a bedtime story. It was already late, and although the day had been eventful, the energy she carried within poured out of her. She said she knew of a story.
"Ciaran! She'll tell us a story, you will love it!" Orla said enthusiastically.
"I'll be there." He said with a soft voice.
"Well, hopefully you will listen and care."
Clodagh said as she pulled laces out of Orla's blonde hair.
"Once upon a time, a girl with no friends talked by herself near a forest. She liked hanging around until dawn, then she would run home before it was night. One day, she found a wooden dull doll tied to a branch on the fig tree in her patio. She thought if she could reach it, it would be hers."
Ciaran, by the balcony but with one foot in the room holding the curtains still, wondered if it was a fabula or a local scary legend.
"She climbed the tree with the intention of jumping off and grasping it as she fell, but couldn't help scraping her knees. With bloody legs and no doll, she returned home once again." Clodagh paused and braided Orla's hair.
"She returned the day after with a rope. She thought she could tie a rock to it and tangle on the branches around the doll. She proceeded to do so, but the length was not enough. Then, she started to throw rocks at the doll itself."
"A woman with a beautiful dark green dress and long black hair appeared from behind a rock. She had colorful flowers tangled on her hair and long eyelashes. She looked like a willow tree. Majestic and nostalgic. She said to the girl, "If you want that doll to come down, you have to sweet talk her." She'll come down, no problem. She smiled, and once again, the girl found herself in her bed. The sunlight poured on the floor, and she was confused but excited."
The breeze from outside began to feel cold, but Ciaran had already decided he would stand by the curtains until the end.
"The girl with no friends walked to the fig tree playfully, with the most charming voice she called the doll precious. She apologized for having hurt her and continued to talk to her. She told her the names of her brothers and sisters. She said to her, "If you come down, I'll be the best friend you'll ever have, I swear."
Ciaran thought about the moral of the story. He knew not to talk to strangers. Not to take things that belong to others. He thought the story could be about following directions, given Orla was too spoiled to listen.
"The next day, the doll was hanged by a thread on the lowest branch. The girl could finally reach her. She thought it was strange, but imagined the lady had left it here for her to find. She untangled the doll, carried her to her bedroom, and talked to her for hours. She loved her, but her love for her withered away with time, behind it was a bitter aftertaste."
Ciaran wondered why Orla wouldn't say a word. He wondered if it was normal for her to stay quiet for so long.
"The doll loved her and lamented why she wasn't loved anymore. What could someone so small and modest yearn for that could belong to them. Love is the hardest to keep."
"She was heartbroken …so what I guess I'm trying to say is take responsibility for your love." Clodagh tied two braids with a black lace.
"What happened next?" Ciaran asked with a firm voice.
"What happened next? I ll tell you when you are of age" She said with a soft smile.
"Murder." Orla responded.
"In town, they say children go missing often. The woods are too big for town folks to explore, especially with the weather, so if you must wander, take care of each other."