“Son, we can not stop!” the queen exclaimed, “We want to live. We can find another home! Just a few more miles son”. Her son stood up, and took a deep breath. He couldn’t jump onto his mother’s back, for she could not hold him. Her silver hands were gone, so her hands remained as stumps as they were when she ran from home. Every move she made, every tinge of pain she felt, every tear that dropped, was the same as when she ran from home. She was still running from the devil, she was still running away. The queen and her child ran and ran until they found snow. Snow was not weather that the kingdom received very often. They knew they had ran far enough. A maiden rushed out of her home.
“My dear, are you all right? Is that your son?” the maiden glanced to the boy, “Hurry, come inside!” The warm air swept into their eyes as the maiden shut the door, and the queen and her son stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Please,” the maiden stammered, “Take a seat”. The queen and her son sat down on leather chairs, the cushions groaning beneath them. The queen set her arms in her lap, and tried to cover her stumps with her dress. “What a beautiful dress!” the maiden exclaimed, “I’ve never seen such beautiful stitchwork, and the flow!” The queen blushed.
“I would love to make you a dress!” the queen eagerly declared, forgetting her silver hands were sitting between splinters on the wooden table in the cabin. She looked down to her hands, and realized. “Though I can’t. I am missing something that I need to make you that dress…” the queen uttered. The maiden searched the queen’s eyes.
“I have a sewing machine,” the maiden announced, “And I have fabric and sewing kits!” The maiden smiled again and attempted to show the queen to her sewing room. The maiden grabbed the queen’s arm, and felt for her hand. “My darling! What has happened?” the maiden remarked. The queen turned towards her son, who had fallen asleep in the chair. The queen silently stood up from the chair, careful not to wake her son. The maiden and the queen walked into a smaller room, a kitchen. Silver pots and dried herbs hung from the ceiling, brushing the queen’s hair. The counters were covered with ingredients and recipes. The small pantry door did not shut, a belt was strung across the door. A gust of wind blew through the open window. The maiden rushed to close it, then crouched to retrieve a few fallen recipes. The queen quickly recited her story, choking back her tears. Tears brimmed the maiden’s eyes, her tears falling as she blinked and gazed at the queen’s arms. The maiden grasped the queen’s arm again. The maiden escorted the queen into an even smaller room, just big enough for the two of them to stand. The maiden reached for a large, brown book. She flipped through a few pages before she landed on a picture on the queen and the maiden standing next to each other as children. The queen smiled.
“I knew someone had this.” the queen laughed. The maiden once again reached towards a book, but grabbed a small gray box instead. She ripped the tape and revealed a ball of newspaper. She took out the ball and set it on the table in front of her. She looked to the queen and smiled, a tear rushed down her cheek. “Oh, no-” the queen began. The maiden held up her pale, thin finger to shush the queen. The maiden unwrapped the small ball, and revealed a set of beautiful golden hands.
“It’s been a while, Rowan.” the maiden smiled, her tears striping her skin.