Thank you to all those who read my humble story, as ever, sadly I do no own Beauty and the Beast even if I would love to.
"French" and 'Thoughts'
It Begins
A small town off the coast of France, 18th Century A.D.
She awoke to the smell of smoke: green wood burning in the villiage square. Belle rubbed her eyes, squinting against the acrid billows of burning willow. Willow. Her tree... Her brain had cleared enough from the vestiges of sleep to register that simple thought.
Quickly she pulled herself from her smalll cot and pacing to the well-worn wardrobe by the window Belle grabbed a simple cotton dress from a hook. Pulling it over her head and tying on a pair of thick-soled boots she hung a traveler's bag onto her left shoulder.
They had prepared for this day. Her father, Maurice was already rumaging around in the kitchen when Belle poked her head around the door frame. "Mon cheri" he softly entoned, "Come take this bread, the money is in the bag... just, just go."
"Papa?" Belle queried, "what about you?"
"I will follow shortly. I'll meet you by the apple tree behind La Roche, my tools are still on the work bench. I need to clear up the shop so it looks like we are traveling to display my inventions. Do not worry. Besides, why would they care about an old man? But you, you need to go Belle. I love you, be safe." 'Ominous words', he pondered, but he felt the need to assure her. "I Love you." So like her mother,Maurice thought. Never a moment to think of her own safety.'
'Now where did I put that lever?'
Belle crouched under the apple tree reading one of the few books she had burrowed into the knapsack. she mused 'Father had said he would be here by now, it's almost seven o'clock. He knows they will come to the house soon. Why is he delaying?'
It was not the first time the soldiers had come to the villiage, but the last time had seen more than a few girls snatched from their families to help "care for" the Grand Army's battallion. Belle had seen her own neighbor, a young woman named Danielle, rudely pushed into a cart to be taken away to the nearby fort. Luckly, the young beauty was not old enough to have been taken herself, but several of the men had leered at her. A promise. This time around she would not have been so fortunate.
A rustle in the bushes. Belle nearly sighed in relief, before she paused.
It was not Maurice as she had assumed. Instead, staring down at her in gleaming leather boots, white pantatoons, and shiny red surcote, was a man.