Cranberry Juice [ On Hold ]

8. The Queen and the Little Cub

Forgive me. I don't speak Italian, but I've tried to add a few snippets where I can - if you have any corrections, let me know :) I promise I'm trying my best.

Sometime in the 40s

He was a star, a shimmering, glittering creature, beyond any of the wildest plains anyone could even begin to conceive. 

But his light was dimmed, caked from crown to plinth in mud and grime, fatigue tearing away at his stomach. He was a child, maybe eight or nine, and he spent the majority of his time running from problems (often due to misunderstood pranks). He was swift and twice as smart, so he managed to escape the consequences of his own actions. Usually.

The kitchen walls were beginning to peel, and mildew crawled across the tiles. Yet somehow, the room was bright and mellow.  Perhaps it was the lighting. An opera track scratched away on the radio, crackling and muffled on the music channel. The air was warm with bread - was it garlic? He loved garlic. 

His head turned, and he realised the reason why everything was so cozy. His mother knelt before him in a well-cut cotton dress. Her hair was in glossy, dark curls, her face dewy and calm. Her skin was smooth and almost ghostlike in tone, but she didn't appear pallid.  

She smiled, drawing him in for a hug. It felt good. Really good. 

"Stay safe. Be as quick as you can, bella," She cupped his cheek in her hand. 

Then she said his name. It was garbled, speaking underwater. Nonetheless, he could still feel it burn into his skin. A name that wasn't truly his.

God. What was his name? Did it matter?

"It's dangerous. You know what happens to those who rock the boat," she warned. "I know you're different," his mother said, standing up and ruffling his fluffy hair. "Can't let anything happen to mia cucciolina."

He laughed, and she did too. It was a beautiful sound, a hearty, melodious sound, one threaded with the warmth of fresh-baked cookies.

"I'll be safe, Mamma. I'll see you around," he chirped, skipping out of the room.

His mother smiled as he walked out. She was the queen, he was the princess. They'd live in a castle someday, and their king would return from the war. It'd all be okay. Or at least, she could pretend.

He peeked his head around the corner before he set out. His mother could be an angel, dress ebbing at her legs, eyes shimmering. She was the moonlight, a watchful spirit guarding over him.

-

The magic of home started to fade as he got into the market. His tiredness, previously alleviated, returned in a sticky wave, drowning him and pulling him back to reality.

He didn't like going out by himself, but he had to be brave. La cucciolina. He was his mother's little cub, her brave little cub. Her princess, her little girl.

There was something unfamiliar about being referred to as a girl. He didn't think let himself think anything of it, but it had made him ache, jarring him to his very bones. Even from his mother, who laced her every word with love, it pained him, and he hated it.

What was he here for? Oh. Flour. The Guttuso's stall. Mr Guttuso was usually pretty happy to see him - he might give him a discount.

He stared up from behind the counter, on his toes to see if anyone was there. He was relieved to see Florencia.

He had two favourite people, the first being his mother, and the second being Florencia Guttuso.

Florencia was around twenty or so, and spoke with a hint of mischief in her voice. She kept her hair in a dark brown ponytail, with tight curls that would shine a coppery colour in the light. She was lithe and bright, with sparkling eyes and a golden-brown complexion. Forget angels. Florencia was a god.

The Guttusos had also come from Italy. Florencia was born a few years after they had arrived. A decade or so later, the Agnellos had done the same. Somewhere along the way, the Guttusos had met his mother. Florencia was the closest thing he'd had to a sibling.

"Hey, Lamb!" Florencia leaned over the counter, hair falling over her face as she gazed down at him.

He always liked that nickname. It made him feel safe.

"Flora!" he exclaimed, jumping to meet her eyes.

She grinned. "How may I help you today? Bread? Muffins? Oh, I've got it!" Flora ruffled his hair.  "You want a story, don't you?"

"Well, no, but I'll take one anyways! Two bags of flour and a really good story!"

Flora gestured for him to come inside the stall. He obliged, and Flora grabbed two sacks of flour and a paper bag with something tasty inside. She dragged the sacks to his feet, and leaned against the counter.

"A really good one, huh?" she asked, pretending to think. "First, check out what's in that bag. I made it myself."

He carefully picked up the paper bag, and unfolded it. He was immediately hit with the scent of  candy and almonds. He peered in, and his gaze rested on a muffin dusted with sugar. The treat was encrusted with various berries, almonds, and soft caramel pieces.

His face lit up, and he gasped. He took an enormous bite. "Thank you, this is awesome," he said through a mouthful.

Flora laughed as he wolfed it down. "Of course. I'm gonna call it the Lamb, purely because you keep pinching the caramel bits out of the Free Sample dish," she said with mock anger. He shrugged.

"Sorry," he replied, voice muffled by the muffin.

"Anyways, how about that story?" Florencia said. She knelt down, beaming at her friend. "What do you know about vampires?"

-

Crow awoke in a cold sweat on the couch, panting. The knitted blanket that had been draped over him slid off, and he put his head in his hands. "Weird dream," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

He could see Soren sleeping upright, head on his laptop - again. He got up, grabbing the blanket and wrapping the cloak around his sleeping roommate's shoulders.

He stuck his head out the window. It was a clear night, the air crisp. Perfect.

Crow made his way downstairs and out of the building. It was nice not having to wear that hat, fashionable as it was.

Then he started dancing. It had been a few nights, and now he was floating again. This was nice. This was his mother's hugs, this was a really good muffin, this was walks with Soren.

This was peace.

A/N: This one took me a while, I hope it wasn't too convoluted. And if it was, I'm always happy to answer questions about the story - it helps me figure out what needs fixing.

As always, feel free to point out errors, and please consider voting. Would be pretty cool of you ngl