Woman

Father holds Arthur at an arm's length. With one knee on the ground and a concerned look in his eye. Arthur glances back unsure of trouble, deciding if he should talk. He sways his shoulders. Right and left rocking back on his toes.

Arthur and Father have noses that match. A look to their foreheads shows that same whimsical curl that just won't sit back. A look to their posture and they are eagerly agreeing.

Arthur has that same reaction that he gave me after I took him aside when he catapulted himself on Alexander with a full glass of milk.

Arthur's eyes glitter when Father grins with that strong carefree charm that defines a sweet dimple in his cheek. Arthur jumps up in excitement and proceeds to throw punches at an imaginary opponent. Just like when I forgave him instantly. Now, his entire demeanor has changed.

The fading furies of my memories recede. The colours of carnivale blaze into an ashen blur behind me as I step towards the two men.

My body quivers at the slight spit of wind that spurs past me. I raise my arm with my fingers barely strong enough to hold up my palm and I reach for my son. I reach for Father.

Usman appears.

Usman rests an arm on Father's shoulder. I feel the tense reminder of how people placed their arms around me for a brief comfort for Father's funeral...but that was real...and painful. I don't want to remember.

Usman and Father begin an easy chat while motioning at Arthur. Usman hands Arthur a pink cloud from the heavens and Arthur embraces it with his face.

Father and Usman laugh and speak with Arthur. They demonstrate that not only can you feel the cloud with your expressions but eat it and enjoy it with your taste buds. They wait patiently until Arthur takes a bite of the cloud. Like friends the three begin pushing each other around and taking turns ripping pieces of the cloud for themselves. Young gentlemen enjoying the company they have, away from the ever-prejudicial eye of societal norms of the prim and proper.

I blink.

Where did Usman come from? I only met him moments ago, and this sweet daydream in my hysteria is becoming too closely linked to reality for me to comprehend...

I smash against a wall. The fading sun behind me as I crane my neck around the corner. My sweat ridden back against the rough bricks. I feel the scratches.

Father's eyes are not the beautiful light brown I recall, but a dark brown. Almost black. Father's nose is smaller and that receding hairline has mended itself. Father....father's....father is not my father.

My eyes burn. I huff and puff. I try to gain a grip on reality as my son swallows a pink cloud.

There are two men here.

These men have Arthur.

They could easily be related to Alexander.

They are strong, tough and made for working...

I glance back at the posture of the two men.

For fighting.

I can't let them snatch Arthur, but....but that Usman....he said that he came for an investigation. Surely, this isn't a ruse. Usman had given only a stranger's acknowledgement to Alexander's behaviour earlier.

I can take down the Commander of the army.

Arthur. Arthur. Arthur.

I am clearly in hysterics. A cloud would surely have taken Arthur to the heavens by now as it does in my usual dreams.

I stare around for the soft gem decorated buildings without hope.

There are shops and inns with foodstuffs inside and the fading sounds of the carinvale to break the silent barrier of my dreaming hysteria.

I blink and Arthur is pulling on the edge of the man's shirt. I glance over my shoulder to the fair towards where Arthur marches the man. They stop and the dark black eyes of the familiar man capture me and the tight hug from Arthur holds me from surrendering to the delirium.

"Mama! Mama! I found you! Mama! Mama?" Arthur shoves the cloud into my mouth with his sticky sweaty hand.

A sweetness overruns my senses. I breathe in and lock my hold around Arthur.

"Mia?" The man says, "Is that you?"

"Who wants to know?" I snarl back.

His eyes brighten slightly as he steps back in retreat. I hover over my son and he holds in a whimper as I tighten my grip.

"I'm sorry madame, I thought you were someone I knew. Someone from another life."

"What type of gibberish are you talking? What do you want with us?" I breathe out.

He seems taken back by my confident ruse. My insides quiver and I take the strength of Arthur's stable little self to keep up my own strength. I let the tears threaten me, but I don't accept. I won't let the weakness overcome me. Not yet. Not now. I hold back my tears with my desire to be strong. I won't cry. Not in front of strangers.

"This is my friend, he's here with me to help me on the investigation. He is my second in command, we are here to do work on behalf of the King and Queen. You remember that right Mia?" Usman strides towards us from the door of a nearby inn.

"We sincerely apologize for causing you any alarm. I saw your son leap behind a broken crate and hide there and I coaxed him out after some time. After that I brought him to the Commander who said he knew the boy's mother. So, we were waiting for you at the meeting point." The man with the blonde hair states.

"Meeting point?" My eyes pop as the words snap from my tongue.

"Mama, member, we were going to eat with that man, Mama, remember? Mama?"

I pull loose strands back and spin them into my loosened braid.

"Right," I say and the two men let the alarm drop from their faces. "So, what do you want?"

Usman almost laughs and the blonde man looks at me in shock. Their eyes glitter in inquiry. Both of them are also fit, and made for running. They are surely some sort of officer or athlete.

"You get right to the point. Follow us ma'am, we should discuss these matters in private. The further we get from this Satanic place the better." The man glances behind me at the fading sun towards the fair.

My heart skips.

"What did you say that for?" I breathe out. My evaluation of them and how quickly I could get away pauses and becomes a background noise at the words so familiar to me. He's not father though, no matter how I squint at him.

"That's a tale for another time!" Usman breaks out and leads the way to the bakery inn.

I stride behind their steady march and pull Arthur tightly beside me. He stumbles to keep up and I sweep him into my arms and kiss him silently in thankfulness that he returned and yet, the tense half day of searching hasn't let up as these men still somehow have him in their clutches.

If only Joseph taught me running instead of carpentry.

Then I would narrate the perspective of the situation.