Whoops! Watch your step there!
"...said the great hero Moonwing to the ancient black dragon." Clementine knew the story by heart, but that couldn’t stop him from laughing with all the other young sprites as they listened to Grandpa Clove tell a story to pass the time. In the safety of their home in the hollow stump, the whole family waited for the deadly hailstorm outside to finish. Once everyone was seated again, the lavender-haired matriarch continued. "The beast howled with cruel laughter and beat its wings to create a mighty windstorm, but Moonwing was clever and used the sudden squall to propel her forward rather than backward. Swish! Spin! Whirl! Strike!"
"Swish! Spin! Whirl! Strike!" The sunlight filters through maple and oak leaves, reaching the flowers underneath as a gentle green glow. As he moves from plant to plant with a watering acorn in his hand, Clementine emphasizes each word with such forceful gestures that he nearly knocks himself off his feet. The crocus shoots don’t seem to mind since he doesn’t hit any of them, but the other budlings tending the new growths alternate between giggles and cheers at the young sprite’s antics. The attention only seems to egg him on to greater and larger swings - one of which would have sent him tumbling to the ground if not for a timely flash from his back of effervescent wings. "Whoops!" he quips with a grin, "Guess I should have watched where I stepped, huh?"
But the story stays with him even when the budlings’ laughter has run its course and the topic of conversation moves on to what color roses are "in" this season. It stays with him in his dreams, putting him in Moonwing’s place against foes too large to be fully seen without moving his head from side to side. It stays with him as he forages in the nearby woods for spider silk and tree bark, as he shares pots of porridge and honey for breakfast, as he paces back and forth and tries to figure out how to communicate just how badly he wants this to his family.
Grandpa Clove does her best to act surprised when Clementine finally announces his departure from the meadow. He, in turn, does his best to act surprised when she produces a backpack spun from spider silk (that he had helped gather). Sitting on top is a small shield made from an acorn cap (that he had foraged), with a set of weasel-skin jacket and pants (very likely from the aggressive weasel he slew two moons ago) folded neatly inside. And tying the whole package together are two lengths of braided branches - one of smooth willow (that he had pruned), the other thorned blackberry (that he had also pruned).
"Remember that we’re all here cheering you on and waiting to hear your stories." Grandpa Clove smiles warmly and pulls her grandson into a warm, purple hug. He hugs her back tightly as she continues. "Remember why you want to be a hero. Remember the feeling of grass beneath your feet and the stump over your head. Remember to drink water and laugh often." Her eyes twinkle as she adds, almost like an afterthought, "And remember to watch your step!"
