Sintel: Remembering
by Robert Teague
This story was written for the entertainment of Sintel fans, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story may be reproduced, provided no changes are made, and you let me know.
The dead chicken fell to the street, startling the redheaded girl. She looked up to see a young dragon as it flew down the last few feet and landed on one of the wooden beams crisscrossing the street. It gave a puff of fire, and looked at her with a pleased expression. She smiled back.
A noise from above caused both to look up and watch as a flock of the local red birds flew overhead.
Sintel grinned and picked up the chicken. This would make a good supper tonight.
"Come on, Scales," she called, and the dragon glided down and landed neatly on her shoulder. The weight caused her to stumble a bit. "You're putting on weight," she told her pet.
She turned to head home, and was stopped by the glare of old Proog. He was standing with arms akimbo, face in even more of a frown than usual.
"Uh... what?" she asked.
He pointed at his feet, where a wooden box lay on its side, the contents scattered. "You knocked it over, you pick it up," he told her.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she answered. Despite being a sour old man, Proog was a friend, and she didn't want to antagonize him, since he did occasionally give her free fruit.
As she bent to her task, Scales took off and flew around the corner. Both she and the fruit monger watched him go.
"Some help you are," she muttered, grabbing another peach.
"He's getting big," commented Proog.
"Yeah, I noticed," she answered, setting the box upright and scooping several peaches back into it. "Heavy, too."
"What are you going to do when he gets too big for your cabin?" he asked, glancing toward his booth. Nobody was there at the moment.
Sintel paused. "I don't know... I hadn't thought that far ahead. But it'll be years before that happens."
"True enough," he nodded, "But you should always keep an eye on the future. Things can change in the blink of an eye."
The girl didn't reply, reaching for the last peach. Finished, she stood up, handing him the box.
"Sorry, again," she said as he took it.
"Should have been more careful." He paused. "You got anything to eat with that chicken?"
"No..." she said.
"Well," he sighed, "Take two or three peaches with you. You're still growing, and need more than just that."
"Thank you!" she grinned, and took three of the biggest she could find.
"Ahh.. get going, before I change my mind," he said gruffly, his frown deepening.
She took off, carrying her prizes securely, and he watched her go.
He had known her parents, and after their untimely deaths had watched as she grew up on the streets of Ishtar. He had considered taking her in, but besides being unable to afford it, he had never been one to let people close. Shoving his private worry about the girl to the back of his mind, he went back behind his booth to hawk his wares.
S:R S:R S:R
Around the corner she just dodged the young brunette woman who had just been at Proog's stand.
"Whoops, sorry, Brooke!" she called behind her.
The woman laughed. "I wasn't worried, Sintel, you're too agile!" she called back.
She had to take the longer way home to avoid passing the butcher shop, since she had slipped the chicken from there. The butcher was suspicious of her, but so far had not caught her when she took something to eat.
When she got home, she found Scales waiting for her and eating his own dinner. Judging by the feathers scattered around him, it was probably one of the red birds common around the city.
She cleaned and cooked the chicken, and had a peach with it, and water to drink.
She mentally thanked Proog for the gifts. She had known him as long as she could remember, and while he was rather gruff and disliked company, he still watched out for her.
What was that dream he had told her about? Something about exploring the inside of a huge machine with another person while it did unknown, and probably unknowable, things. It hadn't made much sense to her, but it apparently did to him.
After eating she went outside and practiced with her knife. Ishtar could be dangerous, and not just from the people. So far she had not had to actually use it to defend herself, but that was no reason to be out of practice.
Finished, she got out the whetstone she had found in one of the numerous empty buildings around town, and honed the edges.
Her mother had given her the knife on her eighth birthday, not long before she and her father were killed in the tornado that had also destroyed their home.
She looked at the wood carving of the event she had made with the knife, and felt sadness for the loss of everything she loved. It was propped over her bed to remind her.
But on the other hand she had discovered she was strong; she was still here, living on her own for the past seven years, and now with a new friend. She glanced at the young dragon, whose meal was finished and now was taking a nap.
Laying down on her bed, she studied the knife. It was a single piece of metal, with cord wrapped around the hilt. Near the top end she could see the symbol of a god, partially hidden under the cord. But the symbol was also above the blade, fully exposed.
Thinking hard, she tried to remember what her mom had told her about it.
She had found it near the base of the Ziggurat, in its sheath. It was old; going back to the religious wars of the last era, a hundred years or more ago. Try as she might, she could not remember the name of the god whose symbol was on it. He must have been on the losing side, since the banners of a different god flew over the Ziggurat now.
That was all ancient history; people today ignored the huge step pyramid in the middle of town since it brought back painful memories.
What else...? Oh, it was supposed to have a spell that enhanced its balance and sharpness and accuracy, and helped its owner find it. She wasn't so sure about that, but had to admit it felt right and comfortable in her hand. She rarely missed her target, and she always recovered it. The blade never chipped, either.
She put the knife away and lay down, pulling the stolen banner she used as a blanket over her. The light from outside was growing dim as the sun set, and her small fire took over the task of providing illumination.
Over in a corner she saw her father's walking staff, one of the few things besides some of her mom's clothing she had been able to recover. It too was supposed to have a spell on it; one for protection and finding one's way. The sign of a different god was carved on it.
She couldn't remember that god's name either. On her own, she had not bothered to attend services, being more concerned with survival.
She yawned, and just then Scales hopped into bed and squawked at her.
"Yeah, I guess it is getting late," she told him, and he snorted in agreement.
He settled in beside her and curled up. It made her feel better, knowing she had such a good friend now.
"Good night, Scales," she told him, and settled down for sleep.
Proog was probably right about keeping an eye on the future, but that was a task for tomorrow. She did not doubt she and Scales would be together for a long, long time.
The End
Author's Note:
It has been a while since Sintel: The Dragon Crystals. Book III, Sintel: Return To Ishtar is about half finished, and I plan to get back to it shortly.
I wrote this story to bring out some of the hidden history of Ishtar and Sintel, most of it created by concept artist David Revoy, but not in the film.
Her knife is a relic of the religious wars, and her parents were killed in a tornado when she was ten. You can see the wood carving in her cabin. I added some details via artistic license.
In the movie, Proog was a cameo from the previous film Elephants Dream, but he was there, and nothing in his biography prevented him from being a native of Sintel's world.
I read online somewhere (and can't find now) that Proog's customer was named Brooke, so I'm including her.