A/N: Hi all readers! This is our first story, and we're writing our stories together. Tell us what you think and enjoy!
It was a cool evening in Witzend. The first feeling of spring was in the air as there was a fresh, clean pond that was settling in the evening atmosphere.
The evening was filled with the sounds of two children's laughter, as a little girl and boy went dancing through a field of flowers, chasing some birds off.
"Tarrant, catch me!" shouted the little girl, as her brown curls bounced as she skipped.
"I will!" yelled the little, red haired boy, as he took off after the girl, determined to catch her. But suddenly, the girl tripped and fell to the ground.
"Oh!" she called, as she tumbled and she began to cry.
"Clarise, are you okay?!" called Young Tarrant, as he flew to her as fast as he could. He knelt beside Little Clarise, as she had bruised her ankle.
"It hurts, Tarrant..." she whimpered.
"Can you move it?" Tarrant asked, as he gently tried to soothe her ankle.
"I think so..." Clarise said, weakly.
"Here. Put your hand up on my shoulder, and I'll help pull you up," Tarrant said, as he helped Clarise to her feet. "Are you okay?" Tarrant asked, as Clarise took her first step.
"Yes..." Clarise said, painfully.
"It'll be okay," Tarrant assured her, as he supported her with all he had.
"Thank you, Tarrant," Clarise smiled, as she kissed his cheek.
Tarrant blushed, shyly and he felt all warm inside. "Oh...uh..." he fumbled on his words, as he was so moved from this world, "anything for you!"
Tarrant helped Clarise all the way back to the village where they lived. The village had many cottages, gardens, farms and mills. The Children only had to pass a few houses before they reached Clarise's house, where Tarrant helped her up the steps and knocked on the door.
The door was answered by Clarise's father, who was a little disappointed that they had arrived fairly late. "Clarise...Tarrant...You're here."
"Clarise got hurt, Sir," Tarrant said, honestly.
"Oh, my," said the father.
"I fell on my ankle," Clarise explained.
"Well, best to come inside," her father said, and he took hold of his 6-year old daughter. "Thank you, Tarrant. Come again," he said, before closing the door.
"Good bye, Tarrant!" Clarise called out to him, and Tarrant waved good bye, before he hopped off of the porch, and headed on his way home.
As Tarrant was walking back to his own cottage, he was deep in thought. Clarise was such a wonderful friend to him. He couldn't even say how much he felt safe, warm and most of all happy when he was around her.
"We'll always be best friends," he thought as he headed on the trail that lead to his cottage. "And we'll always be there for each other."