Debbie Banna - Shattered Dreams, New Beginnings

Matilde paced the floor of her bedroom, fighting a restless heaviness which had settled upon her. Though she had not been herself in the two weeks since Tony had disappeared, somehow this feeling seemed different. It was almost as though she was expecting something, but at this point, she was not sure just what that something might be. A walk would do her good, she thought, picking up her cane from its case beside her bed. As she passed the table on which she kept her important artifacts and helps, a glowing haze drew her attention. Matilde turned back, wondering what she had seen and instantly spotted the source of the glow. The interior of her crystal ball, stationed safely upon a golden pedestal, was clouded with a swirling, glowing mist. This could only mean one thing…that someone was trying to contact her. She set her cane down upon her bed and picked up the crystal ball. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Matilde gazed deeply at its center, waiting for it to become clear.

Slowly, the haze dissipated and, in the center of the ball, a familiar face began to take shape. The raven hair and pure complexion of Snow White appeared before the watchful gaze of Matilde. “Matilde. I see you are waiting for me,” Snow White spoke from within the ball.

“I am here, Snow. What is it that you want from me?” she answered, knowing that this was the event she had been expecting and the cause of her agitation this morning. She gave her full attention to the message about to be delivered, knowing that for Snow White to contact her like this, it must be important. The old girl had never stooped so low as to appear in a crystal ball.

“I have a word for you, dear. I know that this time of waiting has been hard for you. I realize how difficult it has been to remain idle right now and do nothing. But soon, that will change. I will assure you that Tony and Wolf are both fine and have almost completed the tasks that they must accomplish. But this will become the most dangerous time of all for them. Very soon, I must send you to find them or what must be undone will never be. In two days, I need you to set out for the ninth kingdom with the purpose of finding them before they make a deadly mistake. Once the three of you have joined together again, bring them back to Wendell’s castle and there you will find me waiting. I will share with you at that time what has been completed and what must still be done. Now go and prepare yourself for the journey. I’m counting on you to follow your heart. If you do, you will be able to find them and to save their lives.”

With that, Snow White’s image clouded over in the ball and faded from sight. Matilde set the ball back on its pedestal and picked up her cane. Now, more than ever, she needed a walk and some time to consider all she had heard. What had Snow meant about this being the most dangerous time and about following her heart? Matilde shook her head as if this might bring the answer into focus. Though at present, she did not have a clue what Snow had meant, she was sure that it would not be long before she would find out.

Today, Tony had come prepared in case the scavengers returned. It had been a long, lonely week, with each day mimicking the sameness of the day before. Since the night of his visit by the beautiful Adora, Tony had not seen her or any other living soul. His days were full of himself, his thoughts and the silence. He had been certain that this would prove to be the medicine he needed but now he was realizing the restless feeling in his gut would not be satisfied with solitude. The first morning, he had cooked himself a delightful breakfast of fried fish and had eaten until his stomach pushed over the top of his belt, forcing him to loosen it a notch. Then, with little else to do, he had returned to the fishing dock, hoping that Adora might return to help him pass the day.

Except for a flock of noisy, large winged birds, whose antics of diving for food and squawking made it impossible for him to catch any fish, he spent the day alone. Fortunately, he had saved some of his catch from the day before because that night, he left empty handed. Each day, Tony returned to the pier only to be driven to distraction by the cacophony of the dipping, splashing birds as they happily fished for their daily meal. Neither the sight of a family of ducks with their young paddling across the lake, nor a flock of pure white swans could relieve Tony of his irritation at the flying nuisances.

At first he had found a diversion in watching the unusual site of swans driving away another of their kind. A smaller, fragile looking swan swam up to the rear of the flock but, Tony observed, was not allowed to draw near. A large, impressive bird, which seemed to lead the flock would flap his wings and bellow at the outcast whenever it came too close. “I think I know how you feel, little fella,” he said, watching the exchange. But soon, his attention returned to the intrusion of his unwanted guests with the havoc they were wreaking on his own fishing and he resumed fretting.

Supper for the next few nights had consisted of bread, grapes and beer, which did nothing to improve Tony’s outlook. But today, he had come prepared. Stopping to gather a pail full of rocks, rather than the usual bait, he decided that he would make hunting his game this day. Since he lacked a shotgun or even a bow and arrow, the next weapon of choice would have to be rocks, he deduced. He’d get his revenge and hopefully, when the birds had gone, he’d return with a bucket of fish for dinner tonight.

He didn’t bother to sit but remained standing, waiting patiently on the pier for his quarry to arrive. He could see the flock of swans in the distance, gliding gracefully across the water. And though he could not yet see his enemies, he could tell by the noise that proceeded them that they were on their way. He reached down to pick up a handful of rocks and weighed them in his hand. He chose the heaviest, smoothest one he could find then shoved it in his pocket along with a few lighter but equally deadly stones.

With a raucous blare of sound, the birds began to descend in the territory Tony had claimed as his own. They swooped and dived into the water, some emerging with a flopping silver fish between their long, pointed bills. Others dipped again and again until they met with success. Their appetites seemed to rival that of the one Tony was wrestling with at the moment, as they would swallow the fish they had caught whole, then begin their diving again.

With a nasty grin on his face, Tony slipped the rocks out of his pocket and hefted one in the air in the direction of a diving bird. He was rewarded with the sound of a painful squawk and the fluttering of a few dislodged feathers. Driven by his success, Tony began throwing his stones like a crazed maniac at anything that moved. Within just a few moments, the birds had gotten the message he was sending them and, as one, arose into the sky and flew away to find a safer place to fish.

Hands on his hips, Tony stood triumphantly, a hero in his own eyes. He watched the retreating backs of the birds as they crossed to the far side of the lake and he smirked. Then, as his attention was drawn to the now quiet lake, he noticed the swan. It drifted among the cattails and reeds near the edge of the shore. There was only one, not the usual flock. And it seemed to be behaving strangely. It moved very slowly and its head was bend down near its chest. Tony looked a bit more closely and noticed a spreading red spot on the bird’s clean white down. It seemed to be originating from somewhere near the head and was now spreading down its neck. “Oh great!” Tony exclaimed. “I hit the swan. Sorry little guy. I didn’t mean to get you.” He wanted to do something to help the bird, but not knowing what, he flopped down in his chair and tried to concentrate on fishing. The swan then disappeared into the reeds and left Tony wondering what had become of it.

By nightfall, a satisfied Tony picked up his bucket of fish and returned to the cabin, ready to prepare a fishy feast for himself. The sun had set and a chill had settled in over the woods. Tony placed a log and some twigs in the fireplace and soon he had an adequate fire for cooking. The aromatic fragrance of frying fish filled the air and made his mouth water as he flipped it in the pan and then rummaged though his supplies for some garlic powder and pepper. As he searched, his thoughts turned to the mysterious Adora who had helped him in his preparations the first night.

A soft knock interrupted him before he’d had a chance to wander very far down that path. He crossed to the door, surprised that someone had interrupted his solitude. His astonishment was greatly compounded when, opening it, he found Adora leaning against it weakly, a great wound crusting and brown at her temple. “Jeez, what’s happened to you, woman?” he shouted and grasped her forearms to hold her up. As her strength gave out, she slumped into his arms and Tony caught her, then tried to pick her up and carry her into the room. Though he struggled to stay on his feet and he could feel his back scream in protest, he carried the limp body of Adora to his bed and set her down lightly.

She lay strangely still and pale and Tony began to grow concerned. He knew a little first aid but this looked to be serious. Judging from the color of her skin, she had lost a great deal of blood. Leaving her side, he found a plain cotton shirt in his bag from which he ripped a smaller piece and dipped it in some clean water that he had boiled earlier for his morning bath. Gingerly, he washed the wound on her head, noting the large bruise that had formed around it. He pressed the cloth to her head and held it, sitting by her side until the cloth grew warm. Then he returned to the pot of water and wrung the cloth out, replacing it, cool and comforting, across her forehead.

She felt hot to his touch and, from the looks of her wound, Tony suspected an infection. He had not thought to bring any medical supplies with him on this adventure but, deciding it was better than nothing, he retrieved his sole bottle of wine that he’d decided to take along. Tony ripped another piece of cloth from his shirt and soaked it with the wine. He has used this particular liquor as an anesthetic but never as an antiseptic before. But it would have to do, he thought as he, as he wiped the festering sore with the rag.

Adora jerked at the sting of the burning liquid but then settled back quietly against the pillow. As an after thought, Tony poured a bit of wine in a glass and tried to get some of the warming liquor down her throat. She drank readily, as if needing the fluids to replace the blood that she had lost. Tony reminded himself to offer her liquids as often as she would take them. That done, and not knowing what else he might do for her, he left her to rest and returned to his meal burning on the fire.

The rest of the night he spent watching over and tending to Adora. He had little inclination for sleep, wanting to be alert in case she might need him. But somewhere in the early morning hours, sleep overcame him. As the first light of morning slipped through the windows of the cabin, he awoke and roused himself from his place by the fire. The logs had burned out leaving only embers. Tony got to his feet, quickly snatching some logs and kindling to begin a new fire and take the chill from the cabin. His second thought was for his patient and he crossed to the bed to see how she had fared the night. As he neared the bed, he was astonished to find it empty. Where could Adora have gone this time and in her weakened condition, he wondered. He grasped the rumpled blankets, yanking them back as if he thought she might be hiding. As he did he leaped back uttering a startled cry. There in the bed, lying nestled among the covers was a wounded white swan. “Now what?” Tony uttered shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this crazy place!”