Bon Voyage, Papa

By some unspoken consent, we all 'forgot' about my little outburst the day before. We did our morning chores, and I only heard one complaint out of Veronique and two from Marie-Clare. The difference from before was mind-boggling. Papa bustled around packing for his trip. He was as excited as I had seen him in a long time.

"Beauty, have you seen my nice socks? I can't find them anywhere!" He asked as he wandered through the kitchen where I was cooking our midday meal.

I sighed. "Papa, they're in your hand," I said.

He looked at his hand and laughed. "Why so they are! What would I do without you, Beauty?"

I shrugged and stirred my soup. It was nearly done.

Papa came over and hugged me. "It smells good, that soup," he complemented.

"Thank you, Papa."

Veronique wandered into the room.

"Papa! Why haven't you left yet?"

"Tomorrow, Veronique. Tomorrow is when I go."

"Soup's done!" I called. I doled it out into dishes and set them on the table. "Veronique, could you find the boys?"

"Why should I have to do it? My soup will get cold!"

I rolled my eyes. Thankfully, my brothers marched in on cue, with Marie-Clare trailing them. We all sat at the table and talked about Papa's coming journey while we ate. Well, they talked. I mostly ate. However, a question buzzed around my mind.

"How long will you be gone, Papa?" I asked.

"I'd say Marseilles is about a week's journey away, maybe a little more, because of the snow. Then it shouldn't take me long to claim the money. I'll stay a little longer after that, I remember some old friends in Marseilles that I haven't have the pleasure of communicating with since your mo– . . . well, a long time. Plus, I'll have to do my shopping," my sisters' eyes glittered, "and then I should be on my way home again. Maybe, a month or two?"

I nodded slowly and turned my attention back to my soup. Two months wouldn't be too bad. It was winter, so the harvest was over, and growing season wasn't for quite a while. We could hold down the fort for two months.

As soon as everyone finished their soup, Papa jumped up and resumed packing. Emile volunteered to wash the dishes, so I let him.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Papa finished packing and we prepared to see him off the following morning.

That night, I had a dream.

I'm walking in a forest, the snow blankets the ground. Although I can see my breath, I do not feel cold at all. The trees seem to hiss threatening words. I hear wolves in the background and shiver, despite not being cold. All of a sudden, the trees seem to give way to an almost translucent castle. The snow is gone. A beautiful woman glides up to me, and speaks.

"Beauty. Changes will come. You must be prepared, for you will not stay at home much longer..."

She disappears and I see my mother smiling at me. She takes my hands and whispers in my ear, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

I look down at my hands to find they have been transformed into hairy, clawed paws! I scream and scream and scream.

I woke up, my heart pounding, and covered in a cold sweat. But few minutes later I rolled over and fell asleep, strange nightmare forgotten.

I rose early that morning, determined to bake some bread for my father, lest he got hungry before he found a place where he could secure a meal. It would have to be small, maybe a few rolls, because we needed the flour for other things. Soon, we'd have to go shopping for food. I pounded the dough and shoved it in the oven before I was joined by Andre.

"Morning, Beauty. What do I smell?" he asked.

"I'm baking bread for Papa's journey," I replied. He nodded and looked hopefully toward the stove.

"Perhaps some eggs? For breakfast?"

I laughed. Andre was always hungry. "Perhaps," I agreed.

My bread finished baking just as Andre finished his eggs. By that time, everybody else was up and wanting breakfast. Andre excused himself to go saddle up Papa's horse.

"I'm going to miss your cooking, Beauty," my father said.

"It'll be only two months," I said. "Two months, then you can come back here, where we need you."

"Ha! By the time he gets back, he'll be so rich we can move back to Paris!" Veronique said.

I looked at Phillipe. He rolled his eyes and we exchanged faces as Andre strode back in.

"Your horse is ready, Papa."

We fell silent and slowly marched outside with Papa. I gave him my rolls, wrapped in cloth to keep warm. He place them in his saddle bags and climbed onto his mare.

"Farewell, mes enfants."

"Rester sûr, Papa. Stay safe."

He nodded once to us, then turned his horse down the path. We stayed, watching him until he rode out of sight.

A/N: Fun! Now, Papa's on his way and Beauty's have prophetic dreams? Wow. I'm weird.

...

I have to admit, I'm a little at loss for what to do now. But rest assured, I'll think of something! Thanks to anyone who's read this far! I love you!

French*: mes enfants – my children

rester sûr – stay safe

* For any French-retarded people, like myself. I had to plug these words into a language translator! Woo hoo!

~HealthyShadeOfGreen