Waiting.
Paige had always been an adventurous girl, a tad tom-boyish, if you will.
She had never been afraid to get her feet wet or her dress dirty, and was no stranger to manual labour – she'd been making the meals at home ever since she was six. It wasn't like her dad had any culinary skills whatsoever – he was all fingers and thumbs.
It wasn't like he dad had any parenting skills whatsoever, either – he'd never been quite sure how to handle Paige… She had been curious about the world around her and life in general ever since she was a baby, and was accident prone. And Pike didn't know how to handle his rough-and-tumble daughter, his wild child.
His only child.
Pike wasn't a man cut out for kids, and Paige wasn't a girl cut out for boring village life.
She'd managed to cope with the drudgery and boredom with her friend, Toan. He might have been mute, but he was much more interesting than everybody else, whose lives seemed to revolve around fishing and nothing more.
They went on countless adventures: dared to venture into the Divine Beat Cave, played in the fields beyond the village boundaries, climbed onto the roof of Dran's Mill and paddled in the river. All things they'd been warned not to do and over and again not to do.
But now Toan was gone. Off to 'save the world'. Without her.
They'd been best friends for years, and it was safe to say it hurt more than quite a bit when he left without a backwards glance.
Oh, she'd played her part perfectly – smiled and said she was proud of him, but deep down she was upset. Well and truly heartbroken, despite her cheerful disposition and lifted lips. The perfect image of sugar and spice and everything nice. Ha. Her whole life seemed to be filled with slugs and snails and puppy dog's tails.
She'd wanted to go, too.
As it was, she was stuck in her boring old village, crossing off days and striking out months in her calendar with her trusty red marker pen. Praying for the day Toan came back and they could go exploring together again, just like the old times.
Waiting. And waiting. A n d w a i t i n g . . .
three hundred and sixty-five days.
You can think about a lot in a year.
Stuff like: 'maybe he's not coming back for me after all'.
a.n: I wanted to write a Dark Cloud drabble. This is what appeared xD. Hope you liked it!