Free Fantastical Ramblings by Irene Radford Page B

comfortable here, this almost might be the
last resting place of—” She broke off, unwilling to say the name aloud. “Who do
you follow, Sha’awna?”
    “I...” Sha’awna drew herself straighter and stared blankly
in the direction of the crowd approaching them.
    A short man with big hands and feet, dressed in dark blue
robes, swooped down upon them. He gathered Sha’awna into his arms and showered
kisses over her sunburned face, smoothing her grimy hair.
    Katya pointedly released the silken cord from her wrist and
handed it to Sha’awna.
    “Here, here is the rest of your bounty for bringing my one
true love to me,” the prince said, fumbling at his waist for a heavy purse. He
thrust it into Katya’s hands without looking at her. “Come, my sweet. We will
rest here tonight and return to my city on the morrow.” He continued to cover
her face with kisses as he rose, bringing her into his arms to carry her back
to camp.
    A bubble of something like pride, or maybe the end of a
friendship, burst inside Katya.
    Choice. She had choices in her life. Dangerous ones. Sometimes
distasteful ones, sometimes glorious ones. But they were hers and hers alone. She
had enemies. Enemies she could choose to run from or confront.
    Her choice.
    Without a backward glance she marched ahead of Sha’awna and
her adoring prince, grabbed the reins of her still loaded camels and turned
back the way she had come, across the ford, onto the dangerous and winding path
along the river.
    “Kat, where are you going?” Cannik ran up beside her.
    “Lady Sha’awna was right,” Katya said softly. Then, turning
to look at Cannik, she answered him in a stronger voice. “My job here is
finished, my friend. It is time now for me to go home and confront my enemies. I
need to do this. I choose to do this.
I will run from them no more.”
    Cannik looked at her for a long moment, then drew his blade
and tossed her a quick salute. “If your old life ever bores you...” he said.
    Katya smiled and returned the salute. “I’ll remember,” she
said, then turned and started on the long, hard journey home.
    ~THE END~

Image of the Beast
    Um… this story was one of those things that woke me up in
the middle of the night and demanded I write it. Right Now. It first appeared
on the Book View Café when we had new, free fiction on the front page every
day.
    <<>>
    “Mom, I hate camping,” Ben whined.
    “You used to love camping, Benji” his mother replied as she
stuffed boxes of cereal and crackers into the food crate with its bear-proof
lid.
    The entire family bounced around the house, getting ready
for tomorrow’s big trip. Like they did every year the first week after school
let out for the summer.
    “But there’s nothing interesting to do,” Ben continued his
litany of grief, even though he knew it was pointless.
    “Meaning: I told you to leave your sketch book at home,” Mom
replied.
    “Yeah.” Ben brightened a bit. Maybe he could convince Mom
that he really ought to be allowed to pack the tablet. “I could draw our campsite,
and the trees, and the river, and the squirrels and birds. Better than a
camera.”
    “Benji, we love that you are developing a real talent with
your art work. But you need to do other things, too. You need to swim and hike
and climb trees, not just sit and draw. You haven’t been more than two inches
from your sketch book since we gave it to you for Christmas. It stays home.”
    “But, Mo-oM!”
    “No buts about it.”
    Ben scowled. He wanted to cry. But at twelve he was really
too big for that ploy.
    “Look, Benji, how about we let you use the camera on Dad’s
phone. If you get some good shots you can download to the computer when we get
home and sketch from those.”
    Ben continued to pout, arms crossed. He felt his chin
sticking further and further out in defiance.
    “Compromise, Benji. You can take the sketch pad but you wait
until evening around the campfire, or in your tent. You spend the rest of the
day