Faithful Pebble
Part Forty-Seven
"What will you do?" the kitten asked suddenly, finally getting to his feet. Nervously, he pulled his cap from his head releasing red unruly curls that bounced and swayed in the wind. It made the wanderer smile.
"Hmm…" he asked. "You are referring to my attempt to rescue this mysterious rock-named maiden from her deep dark well, correct?"
The boy grudgingly nodded.
The smile on the wanderer's face deflated a little. "Well," he said. "First, I think I'd like to see if I can get her to talk first and then maybe attempt to get her to climb out, but—"
But that has been done already, the kitten thought.
"But that, I hear, has been tried many times before with no success. I also hear," the wanderer wandered. "That the fair Miss. Pebble is too week to climb the rope, which makes sense. I'd be surprised if she could actually. She has been trapped for years, I hear."
"Seven to be exact." The kitten wasn't looking at the wanderer, just at his hat. The cap steadily revolved between dirt stained fingers. The child liked the wanderer. He didn't want to admit—didn't want to think about what his hero would do if he ratted the man out. He didn't want to think about what the ghost would do if the man entered those woods. So many heavy things danced in such a tiny unequipped mind. It wasn't built for such solemn misgivings. The wanderer saw this, felt this and sobered even more. The pickpocket's frown was direly unnatural.
The wanderer knelt before the child, who instantly began to blush and fiddle more aptly with the inner ring of his cap. He waited a second then ask a question. His brow furrowed slightly. "How do you know how long Pebble has been down there?"
The kitten bit his lip. "Because my mom said Pebble was discovered the year I was born. I am seven. She's been down there seven years."
Thanks Be Rose! - Calla