Dara's Secret

Her tenth birthday and she'd never seen it. Him. Her. The Guardian. Her angel who watched every second of the day, ever-present and always there. Of course, the conversations had gotten longer, as Dara began to understand more of the world. Whenever she was alone, she sang, it was there, just out of sight and lingering on the corner of her vision. She always thought she'd seen a black figure sidle into her peripheral vision, but the moment she turned her head, he was gone. Dara had always vowed to call him it, but the voice was so masculine. Recently, however, she hadn't been around him as much. She couldn't call as often, with her parents starting to take an interest in a meagre education for her. He taught her more, taught her the beauty of fog, mist and rain, taught her about the world, always protecting her naivety. Protecting Dara must have been the hardest task he'd ever had to undertake. At the age of eight, she was told she would marry before thirteen, to a 'suitable' husband. A suitable husband meant someone fat and old. Repeatedly, Dara had lashed out, fire burning within her, even chancing her own life with escape, nearly welcoming death. Always, at the last minute, her Guardian would appear, hidden in the mist, and save her. Still, she never saw him.

When escaping from the jaws of wolves, she'd squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and all of a sudden, the howling was gone, sickening thuds and crunches occurring, until finally, silence fell, light footfalls away the only trace that he'd been there. When falling from a cliff that she had been climbing, she'd been passed out from exhaustion. Saved from dying of hypothermia? She had fallen asleep. Saved from raging water? She was drowning and unconscious.

She'd been lucky so far, but now she was more tamed, but aching to talk to her Saviour. Her Guardian.

Smartly, she'd escaped the dinners with the complaint of being ill, before hiding in her room. Now she was alone, she could call. Dara strode to the window. The way her silhouette was thrown on the ground exaggerated the recent changes in her- she was no longer short and stumpy, but tall and willowy, on the verge of her body changing with crazed hormones. The window was flung wide open and Dara stared out, excitement coursing through her body as she began the song.

As always, her mouth formed the sounds perfectly, blue-green eyes surveying the horizon almost listlessly. Slowly, she noticed, it was beginning to mist, until it became an impenetrable blanket.

"You're here."

Dara's voice was quiet, but even an idiot could hear the excitement in it.

"Dara! Long time, no speak."

Her Guardian replied, using the same drawling voice as always. It was thick with an accent Dara couldn’t work out, and when she asked about it, he’d always told her that, one day, he’d tell her where he was from.

“I know. It’s been too long. Do you think they’ll figure out…?”

Dara’s lilting angelic voice was filled with doubt and worry. She shifted lightly on her perch, beside the window, and pushed back one unruly curl. It had always been that way, that one curl that hung, quite annoyingly, in the middle of her forehead. It had always been a source of amusement for her Guardian, who often repeated his rhyme about it.

“No Dara. Never. I promise.”

The Guardian swore, watching Dara through the mist, before, once more, laughed at the curl and began the rhyme.

“There once was a girl, with a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad, she was horrid!”

The chuckle sliced through the mist as Dara’s Guardian laughed at himself. In spite of herself, Dara’s own lips twitched before she burst into laughter as well. She’d heard that rhyme so many times, it should no longer be funny, but she couldn’t help it. The Guardian’s laugh was so enchanting, she had to laugh too. Finally, the laughter stopped, and Dara stared out into the mist, a sad look on her face.

“Wh-when are you going to be leaving? Will you be leaving on my eleventh birthday? Mother said you’d disappear sometime this year…”

“She’s wrong Dara. I’ll never leave you.”

The Guardian’s voice was strong and trustworthy. The confidence in it betrayed the smile that was on his face. The delighted smile that told Dara he was glad she’d asked in such a voice, in such a way as to make him stay.

“Thank you. I’m glad you won’t leave me. I-I…”

A shrill scream made its way out of her mouth as Dara fell. She’d leaned too far forwards. Large, warm hands grabbed her, and there were flaps as she was lifted back up, and placed facing into her room on the window seat. By the time Dara had turned around, the Guardian was gone, faded away into the mist again.

“I’ll always be there for you Dara, I’ll always protect you. But I have to go; your parents are looking for you.”

Dara nodded, scanning the mist, which began to melt away. And she knew he was gone. The drop in her stomach, the loosening of those knots and the evaporation of the lump in her throat were strange feelings to her. Feelings she missed. A sigh left her pink lips as she turned to greet her parents.