The Bridge

She had been missing for hours and Lann felt sick to his stomach. He had been left to look after the House and his little sister whilst his Father, Rylon, and Mara were at Court. He’d left her with Babblebrook, she’d been following him around all day, wanting to know what he was doing at every moment, asking him question after question, just talking incessantly. She was four years old, what does a four year old have to talk about? So he’d subtly palmed her off onto the aging knight, who’d happily sat with her.

'The little lady was quietly drawing by the fire, she’d been asking after her mother again', he mentioned. He’d just 'closed his eyes for a moment'. He’d 'nodded off for no more than five minutes', he’d said.

Lann had torn apart the house looking for her, had all the men he could spare searching the grounds. But there was no sign of the girl. He couldn’t sit and wait in the hall, he had to do something, so he grabbed his cloak and headed out into the chilly mountain evening.

He called and called until his voice grew hoarse, he walked the grounds again and again, going wherever his feet took him. He found himself on a stone bridge overlooking the stream that flows through the hamlet. He took a moment to rest, and leaned over the side, resting his arms on the cold stone. As he looked down at the water, he saw something. A little slipper in the mud.

Without a second thought, Lann vaulted the small wall, landing with a splash in the shallow waters below. He bent down to retrieve the shoe, so small in his hand. As he looked up, he saw her. A tiny ball curled up beneath the bridge, shivering and cold.

Lann rushed to her, removing his cloak from his shoulders and wrapping it around his little sister.

“What are you doing out here, Myr?” He soothed as she began to softly cry, “you had us all worried sick.” He scooped her up into his arms and headed back to the house.

Later that evening, they both sat in front of the fire, Myria bundled in a blanket, snuggled in Lann’s lap.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. I didn’t mean to.” Myria whispered.

“I know, Myr. I’m just glad that I found you when I did. It was getting cold.” He hugged her a little tighter before her turned her around to face him. “So, why were you out there all alone?”

She fixed her big brown eyes, their mother’s eyes, on him, “Mama’s been gone for a long time. I think she might have gotten lost.” She paused for a moment, her small brow furrowing, and tears filling her eyes. “I was looking for her.”

“Oh Myr,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and held her close once more.

“Am I in trouble?” Her little voice asked from within the blankets.

“No, but I think we need to have a talk. You’re old enough now to understand.”

And so they spoke, they spoke well into the night, about their mother; who she was, what she was like, how much she loved her children. There were questions, and tears, but when Lana came to put Myria to bed, she found the both of them curled up together in a mess of pillows and blankets, and she smiled as she gently closed the door.