Faithful Pebble
Part Sixty-Eight
It took the wanderer some time to realize that he was hearing the story on rote; that the luring lilt of her voice, its catchy droning cadence, was planned and purposeful. It was a chant passed down through time.
"Years later, the dwarves toiled," Pebble continued. "Years later, the dwarves dug until one day a little girl appeared in their midst. Found amongst the cobwebs and the filth of their little dwarf hut, she was like a dream. Her laughter, her tears, her life. She too was a light in the dark, one stranger and more dangerous than anything they'd witnessed those many years prior, in the earth, in the darkness, in their cave of secret treasures.
"On whim and slight compassion, the seven let the girl stay and from there their notable history took its course. The girl grew. The seller came and so did the belt. The witch came and so did the apple. The little girl took a bite and then, predictably, she died leaving the seven distraught and heavily saddened. So saddened were they that they traversed back into the dark and unearthed its secret light. They carved it. They crafted it until those cursed, alluring, fateful cluster of silver-cut diamonds shone brighter than the sun basking the girl's poisoned body. The seven's dirt crusted hands made a coffin. Their masterpiece seemed to make death more beautiful than the sunlight, but that masterpiece was not as beautiful as the last glimmer of life that seemed to radiate from the girl's chiseled cheeks. They lay frozen resting chaste beneath the crystal-like glass cradled by the slick luminous strands of her ebony black hair, the crimson smear of her red as blood lips and—"
"The soft as silk touch of her snow colored skin." The wanderer interrupted her, "The legend of Snow White is tied to this forest?" He paused suddenly his mind searching. He thought back to his path to the village, the name of the surrounding valley, the breath of its vast forest and ancient range of pointed mountains. He nodded vaguely remembering some half-forgotten connection. "Yes, that is right," he said. "This is the general area, isn't it?"
The wanderer turned back to Pebble as those words tumbled from his lips, but then upon seeing her he started. He was taken aback surprised to find that she too had stopped. Pebble was staring at him. Her head tilted awkwardly as she considered him, gawked at him, gaped at him pointedly through her hood, that brown and coarse and filth drenched fabric.
"What?" he asked at little uneasily. "Did I say something wrong?"
- Calla