Pearl and Silk

Frozen. I was frozen solid. For a short span of time, it was as if my mind had been disassembled, the pieces falling in a jumbled heap at my feet. Quick, sporadic thoughts burst through my mind one word at a time.

Human. Hunter. Swan. Human. Name. Mine. Man. Derek. Father. Human.

It had been my first encounter with a human in my six long years at the pond, and I didn’t know what to make of it. The first human, and here he was looking for me. My brain could not comprehend how he fit into this puzzle, or why he was unyieldingly shouting my name between his strangled sobs.

I remained frozen for another moment or two, but then cautiously attempted to regain my wits. I deepened and slowed my breathing, then placed my mind in a forced calm that I had regularly used when speaking with Rothbart, the evil toad. It was a clever trick, this forced state of mind, as it made my thoughts like stones in a riverbed-- still and oblivious to the raging waters around them. One by one, I retrieved the scrambled pieces of my mind.

Once I could think in full, coherent sentences again, I analyzed the situation.

There was a man.

A man with a knife.

He did not seem to be here for hunting purposes but rather with the intent of finding me.

My hiding spot prevented me from directly seeing the man, but the voice sounded young, too young to be my father.

My father was not fit enough to go hunting even when I was young, and so I doubted highly that he was here now, with this man.

The man seemed to be directly affected by me in some way or another, though I couldn’t imagine why.

There were a few distinct splashing noises coming from the direction of the man, what I assumed to be him falling or dropping to his knees into the water.

Instinct and I suppose just plain curiosity begged me to peer around the cattails I was buried in in order to get a glimpse of he whom I had apparently caused so much grief. I dimply registered somewhere in the back of my mind that it was obviously smartest to remain hidden until the man passed through, but from the sounds of his ongoing cries, however, I did not expect him to be departing any time in the near future.

In the end, my curiosity beat out my common sense. As a child I had prided myself on my sense of adventure and my bravery regarding risk-taking, and both had been dormant too long. This strange new experience had awakened them in less than an instant.

Slowly as I could manage, I wiggled my round little swan body through the long stalks surrounding me. This task proved difficult to accomplish noiselessly, but I managed. Eventually I was close enough to the front of the cluster of cattails that I could arch my neck to peer out of them. And what I saw could only be described in one word: ragged.

I detected generous layers of dirt over every inch of the young man’s exposed skin visible to me, including the back of his neck, his forearms, and his calves. The clothes he wore showed obvious sign of wear and tear, as if he had been adorning the same shirt and trousers for a week. His boots were worn, sturdy leather, the kind my father once wore whilst working in the garden, or a man might wear for a hard day’s work at the plough. I could only see the back of his body, as he had moved further into the pond to kneel helplessly in its waters, but I’m sure that could I catch a glimpse of his face, it would be streaked with dirt as well.

I distractedly wondered what this poor lad had done to filthy himself up so well. For all his haggardly appearance, he vaguely reminded me of the homeless beggars that used to lurk right outside the castle gates.

So that was how the next few hours progressed; the young man knelt in the cool waters and wept into his palms, while I stared and pondered what his possible purpose he could have for being here.

Once or twice I allowed myself to contemplate the fact that this boy may very well be Derek come to save me. He did have a very similar dark, tousled hairstyle as Derek, and was somewhat muscularly toned like I imagined Derek to be as he got older, but these were the only obvious similarities I could detect. This man—judging by the hunch of his broad shoulders, and the pure helplessness in his cries—seemed too frail to be the boy I once knew to be tall and proud.

And of course there was always the matter of his clothing. The Derek I knew would never step foot out of his chambers looking anything close to this young man in front of me—again, he was much too proud.

Seeing as I was much too frightened to venture out of my safe and well-concealed hiding spot to catch a glimpse of his face, I determinedly decided that I did not know this man at all and that wishing for him to be Derek was a childish fancy. I was not some romantic little girl anymore. Imagining things and instilling myself with false hope was simply unacceptable.

And so I dared hope no more. I gave up guessing this stranger’s identity, as it had so far proved utterly fruitless. From this point on, I would wait until he was done with his weeping, until he stood up and turned around so I could finally see his face. I had already waited the better part of two hours, and so what were a few more? I silently hoped that he would not take that long, however, as my eyes were already feeling the weight of exhaustion press down upon them. But, no matter, I would be vigilant. I would keep post until I got what I desired.

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I tiredly swatted at my cheek, silently willing whatever it was that was tickling me to go away. But to no avail. Mumbling incoherently, I rolled over onto my side. It wasn’t until I heard the water slosh beneath me that I was suddenly awoken from my reverie.

I bolted upright to find myself sitting on the shores of the pond—half in the water, half out—and already back in my human form. Groaning, I turned around to find Jean-Marc innocently perched next to where my head had just lied.

I had fallen asleep. Curses, I had fallen asleep! I begrudgingly stood up from where I sat in the shallow water, making sure to splish and splash and make an angry show of myself while doing it.

I was endlessly frustrated with myself. How could I have let this happen? How did I let someone so important get away without even getting a look at his face?

I suddenly remembered that Jean-Marc had been there too, had been the one to spy the man in the woods and come warn us all! Perhaps he could tell me what the man looked like!

In a blur, I whirled around to face the large toad. Before I could get the first word out of my mouth, however, I remembered. I could not communicate with other animals in my human form. I would have to wait until morning to ask Jean-Marc all the questions that were threatening to burst out of me at any given second.

Frustrated beyond belief, I let out a large huff and began to walk towards dry land. I was soon reminded by the wet, uncomfortable feeling all over me that, to top it all off, my dress was soaked to the bone. Wonderful.

This night could not get any worse.