Lonely.
A stain against the bleak landscape. It sits by itself, rising from the ground to scrape the clouds. A circular tower that stands at least five stories, if not more. With its gray stones, black roof, and single silver spire that points like a needle straight to the sky, it’s a dark streak that seems to have chased away every living thing, leaving nothing but this grim monstrosity standing in the center of the clearing.
“You can’t be here.”
I blink and spin, doubting I heard such an enchanting voice echo in this dead space. “Who said that?”
“I did.” The musical notes of that voice flit above me.
Frowning, I shove the stubborn fall of hair from my eyes and glare at the tower, searching for the source. There’s a single open window at the top, where a white curtain billows from the gentle summer breeze. I strain my neck to peer inside, but I’m met with darkness. I raise my stick like a sword, ready to defeat any threat.
“Show yourself, witch,” I demand.
“I’m no witch.”
I jab at the air. “Then why hide from me?”
“No one is supposed to know I’m here.”
Lowering my arm, I tilt my head and scrunch my face in confusion. “You do realize by talking to me, you—”
“Yes, I know,” she interrupts me again, this time with an almost sad-sounding sigh in her tone. There’s a weird…scraping…sound coming from inside the tower. Like metal against stone, but it fades. Everything fades when I see her.
Her.
First, it’s just the top of her head. Then she rises in the window like the dawn. More of her comes into view, the vision of her a punch right to my gut. The girl is…lovely. There’s no other word to describe her, really. Especially not with the navy tunic contrasting her fair coloring and the plaited golden cord wrapped around her trim waist.
I wish I could see the color of her eyes, but she’s far too high.
Her hair, though…
Her golden hair.
I’ve seen nothing so glorious in all my life.
“You’re just a girl.” Shocked, I let my makeshift weapon slip from my hand.
She must be my age if she’s a day. She rests her elbows on the window’s ledge and drops her chin on her upturned palms. There’s something so…forlorn…about her. “And you’re just a boy.”
I bounce my gaze around the glade. At the tower, with no visible door, searching for answers to questions I haven’t asked. Then back at her, and I’m struck again by the girl’s fragile beauty. “What are you doing up there?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I live here.”
“You live here?”
She lifts her head from her hands and extends her arms to hoist herself higher, allowing me to get a better view of her. She comes way too far out of the window. Again, I hear that scraping, but my concern that she’ll fall overrides my curiosity about the ominous sound. I step closer to the tower as if I can catch her if she tumbles.
“Aye, I do.” Her hair—so long I can’t tell where it ends—catches the sun’s rays like spun gold. When she takes my measure, her expression, from what I discern from this distance, is pure curiosity. “May I ask you a question?”
I give her a loose shrug. “Sure.”
She peers at the ground and then back at me. “Tell me, what is the dirt like beneath your feet?”
“The dirt?” I repeat dumbly.
“Do you plan to repeat everything I say?”
Embarrassed, I find a rock to kick. “I suppose not.”
