TigerLily's Lagoon

She pads down the path and rushed to her chest, digging through it to once again find her notebook before the story leaves her. An idea, rather. The beginnings of a story. One she hopes will catch someone's interest. She grabs it and pulls out the pen, flipping it over before sits on the blanket, and starts to write, her messy handwriting becoming even harder to read as she writes with speed.

Alice woke, jumped, turned, searching for the cause of her abrupt awakening. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, chestnut curls struck her face as her head turned.

Yelling. That’s what it was. But who? She tried to calm herself enough to focus, but it wasn't helping. She stood, slowly, grabbed her robe, and slipped it on, moving quietly toward the door. She pulled it open, just a crack, and peered out.

A man she'd never seen before. That explained why she didn't recognize the voice. But why was he in the house, yelling at her father?

He towered over her father, and though he was elderly, he was not small. The man made him look not only small, but weak. His frame was large; his height alone made him seem massive, but his broad shoulders and likely his booming voice added to his size, and Alice shuddered.

Pulling her robe closer to her, she pulled the door open and stepped out, standing as tall as she could, trying not to seem frightened. "Father, what's going on?"

Had she bothered to take a second and listen to the man's yelling, and her father's responses, she probably would not have exited her room. Her father turned to look at her, the confident look on his face disappearing as he heard her. The large man turned to her, and the scowl turned into a rather unsettling grin.

"Carl was just leaving," he told her. "Go back to your room."

Not removing his eyes from Alice, the stranger, apparently named Carl, spoke. "I don't think I was, Jeffry. In fact, I think you've been hiding the solution to this argument this entire time. You never mentioned a daughter."

Her father’s face hardened and he stepped between Carl and Alice. "She is not a solution to this argument. You are being unreasonable, and you deserve nothing for your mistake. Those swords were precisely what you asked for. If you asked for the wrong thing, and your master is dissatisfied, that is not my fault; you got what you requested and paid for. I owe you nothing."

"I think," the man began, his scowl returning. "That you owe me more than you believe, and I think that you are going to give me what I want, regardless of your belief." He took a step toward him, and her father stood his ground. Alice, however, took a step back, into the wall behind her. "And if you don't give her to me," he continued, looking directly at Alice as he spoke, "that I will take what I want, and leave you in a puddle of your own blood."

"My daughter is not a bargaining chip, Carl. And she's not going with you." He reached back as he spoke and gripped a sword that lay nearby, one of many. He pulled it to him and held it up, taking a step back. "We both know who the better swordsman is, Carl. You do not stand a chance. Leave."

With one last look at Alice, the man turned and left. She had the unsettling feeling that he'd be back. She rushed to her father’s side as the man slammed the door behind him. His prowess as a swordsman was well known, but it had been years since he’d had to prove himself. Only he and Alice knew that he wasn't able to fight like he used to. Age had finally caught up to him. Alice took the sword and looked at him, sighing before speaking.

"If I have to give myself for your life, I would do so," she told him.

He shook his head. "I will not ever let you do that. And you will not have to. They still fear me, Alice."

"He's going to come back," she told him.

"I know," he responded. "But he'll get no more from us then than he got today."