That night I met Reinhart was otherwise unremarkable. It was a little cold, a little frosty. Spring was close. I don’t know how exactly I knew but I did. It is just the sort of knowledge that lives in your bones, I guess. I was a winter child, well at ease in the cold and the snow, and I did not look forward to the change in seasons. I did not look forward to time’s passage at all, but time cared little for my will.
My family's eminent departure hung heavy on my shoulders. With each second that passed, I felt guiltier and guiltier. I knew I should be making the most of the time I had; after all I really might never see them again, once they set sail.
But all I could do was waste time. As though if I tried hard enough, I could burn right through it, straight to the day they returned to me, triumphant and safe and happy to be home. I know, I already said time cared little for my will. I know it now, and I knew it then.
But I was a damn stubborn little girl.
Anyway, I don’t remember the specifics of how we met. The way the light fell, the feeling of the familiar streets beneath my feet, the distant noise of people buying, selling, laughing, dancing. I just remember it was a new moon, and the night was young, and I found an earring in the trampled snow. I had been following a quiet alley to the marketplace when the flash of gold had caught my eye. It was a simple piece, but pretty. A green stone dangling on a golden loop, simple but elegant. It would perfectly fit my style, if I had any interest in cultivating such a thing. There was only one on the ground.
The tracks in the snow seemed fresh, so I hurried my pace. It would fetch a pretty penny at the markets, but I was more concerned with returning it to its owner. When I got closer to the dark shape in front of me, moving fast, I called out in a voice that sounded older than I was: “Hey, you!”
They paused. I think they did not want to turn and face me, but after a moment of deliberation they did.
It was not a they. It was a boy. He was older than me, but still a boy. I could tell by the hunch of his shoulders and the look in his eye, the look all boys have. I probably should have recognized him instantly as a noble son, but I had inherited a dislike of social events and a downlike disdain for the wealthy. I kept to myself, my family, and our small social circle.
I stared too long at him before asking “is this yours?” The earring hung in the still air between us. It dangled in the light of a distant fire, but I missed the way the light glinted off it like sparks of sunlight. I was solemn. All snow and slate. I did not for one second break my gaze with the stranger.
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@Reinhart <3
