The Chickadee Girl

Wooden Sword

Tristan shook Isa awake just after dawn. His eyes were luminous in the half-light, and he moved with purpose, his resolve undulled by sleep. Isa blinked at him. 

"Isa, get up! I figured out what we need!" His whisper was earnest and alive with excitement.

She sat on the edge of the bed, and regarded him sleepy-eyed. "And what might that be?"

"We need armour."

"I'm sorry?"

Midas looked dolefully up at Isa from the floor, as though to suggest he'd already tried talking Tristan out of this. But the boy would not be swayed. 

"Remember yesterday, when we were walking around looking for hiding spots in the main building? We passed a bunch of trophy cases."

"Yes." 

"And there was one with weapons and armour in it. If we have armour and swords and shields and stuff, maybe Stagger will run away scared. Maybe we won't even have to fight him!"

Isa shook her head. She knew the display case Tristan was talking about.

"Those weapons aren't real, buddy. The theatre department put on Julius Caesar last year." 

He looked at her uncomprehendingly. Because he was five, or maybe eight. 

"It's a play about Roman soldiers. The armour and the weapons and stuff are props built to make the story seem real. They're made of wood and plastic and tin and stuff."

Tristan frowned, and seemed to consider this for a moment. "Do you think Stagger is smart enough to know the difference?" 

Isa sighed. "I don't know. But I do know that those weapons won't protect us if it does come down to a real fight. To be honest, I don't know that real weapons would help us against Stagger. We don't even know what he is."

"I do."

She looked at him sharply. "Oh?"

Tristan nodded solemnly. "He's a monster that wants to hurt us." 

Isa nodded. 

Tristan appeared undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm. "Even if it's not real, it'll make us feel brave, Isa. And maybe if we feel brave, we can come up with an escape plan. Can we please just go and look at them again? I've never had a sword before." He grabbed at her hand, and squeezed it hard. 

Isa sighed and rubbed her eyes. She had no better plan, after all. If they were really intending to take on Stagger (an idea she found still more laughable in the light of day), they ought to be armed with something besides a golden retriever. She scowled the scowl of the recently-awoken, but it was mostly for effect.

"Maybe after I've gotten some food into you. When we've eaten something in the kitchen, we'll take the long way around and walk by the display cases. No promises on the sword, Tristan."

***

Tristan and Midas fairly capered up to the Dining Hall at her side, stopping briefly to let Midas relieve himself against the enormous oak that stood on one side of the common. While he waited, Tristan stood gazing up at the branches above his head, regarding the dancing leaves and blue sky with the same wonderment with which he seemed to behold everything. She cursed under her breath. Who would abandon such a child? Who would abandon any child?

For he had been abandoned, as surely as she had. He must have been. He was young and had obviously been traumatized into memory loss by whatever had happened to him in the woods, but the reality was that he, too, had simply been left.