where Lizinia stood, a lovely statue of anticipation. “We are free to go!” he announced.
Instead of the enthusiastic response he expected, she tilted her head at him like a broken bit of clockwork. “Trix? Is that you?”
Girls did ask the strangest questions sometimes. “Of course it’s me! You’ve been here the whole time. Did you see anyone else walk through this door?”
Lizinia tilted her head the other way. Raising her eyebrows, she looked him over from head to toe. “It’s just…” She squinted at his face. “You look…taller.”
Trix straightened proudly at the compliment. Come to think of it, his shirt did feel a bit tighter around the chest and arms. Did that happen when one grew taller? His older brother Peter was as barrel-chested as Papa, which came from being a Woodcutter, but he wasn’t as tall as, say, Saturday. Not that Peter was around to ask. “Well, it’s still me, and I’m still anxious to get to Rose Abbey. You’re still coming with me, right?”
The joy Trix had anticipated earlier returned to her face. Lizinia clapped her hands. “Let me just collect a few things.”
Trix moved to let her past him but he remained in the doorway, just in case Papa Gatto had any ideas of locking her up again. From the bedrooms, the golden girl fetched a cloak the color of the sky that covered her from head to toe. From the pantry, she fetched a satchel. “I thought we might collect some apples for our journey.”
“Great idea,” said Trix, happy that she was traveling light.
Lizinia paused on the threshold. She turned back to the main room and blew it a kiss before closing the cottage door, which she locked with a golden key that hung from a chain around her neck. Trix said nothing; he knew how difficult it was to leave one’s home behind, prison or no.
"What should we do with this?" Trix asked of the golden apple he'd split in half. While they had prepared to leave it had turned solid metal, from the rind to the pips.
“Bring it," said Lizinia. She put the smaller half of the golden apple in the pocket of her cloak and handed the other half to Trix. “We might need to spend it on something."
"Thank you," said Trix.
"Not at all," said Lizinia. "Only...I do have a small favor to ask of you."
Trix bowed to her as he had to her godfather. Surely whatever she asked couldn’t be as silly as anything Papa Gatto had invented "Name your task, milady."
He could not tell from the shadows cast by the hood of her cloak, but judging by her body language, his comment had left her blushing. (Trix certainly had enough sisters to know.)
"Before we start on the journey to your mother, would you please take me to this ‘magical sea’ that you spoke about? I have never seen the sea, magical or otherwise.”
It was miles out of their way, back over the hills and through the never-ending hayfields. Trix looked up at the sky, noted the position of the sun, and assessed their bearings.
“This way!” he said excitedly. Because no matter where they went, at least they were going . There were no clouds in the sky: neither storms nor cats would cause any more mischief this day.
Trix was happy to note that his enthusiasm pleased Lizinia. Obligingly, she followed him through the hay. “So what did you and Papa talk about?”
“Oh, all sorts of things,” said Trix. “I don’t expect we’ll ever be the best of friends, but we worked it out. And I didn’t end up dipped in anything, which I consider a triumph. Mostly I was relieved when he stopped being mad at me. He really does grin, doesn’t he? That’s a strange sight.”
“Mad? Whyever was Papa Gatto mad at you?”
“Because I forgot to tell you I was a prince. Come on, now, keep up. Adventure awaits!”
6
The True Story
T rix and Lizinia made their way east along the edge of where the impossible ocean met the land it had swallowed. Lizinia kept her hood up, even in the heat of midday, to avoid the urges of any greedy passersby who
Instead of the enthusiastic response he expected, she tilted her head at him like a broken bit of clockwork. “Trix? Is that you?”
Girls did ask the strangest questions sometimes. “Of course it’s me! You’ve been here the whole time. Did you see anyone else walk through this door?”
Lizinia tilted her head the other way. Raising her eyebrows, she looked him over from head to toe. “It’s just…” She squinted at his face. “You look…taller.”
Trix straightened proudly at the compliment. Come to think of it, his shirt did feel a bit tighter around the chest and arms. Did that happen when one grew taller? His older brother Peter was as barrel-chested as Papa, which came from being a Woodcutter, but he wasn’t as tall as, say, Saturday. Not that Peter was around to ask. “Well, it’s still me, and I’m still anxious to get to Rose Abbey. You’re still coming with me, right?”
The joy Trix had anticipated earlier returned to her face. Lizinia clapped her hands. “Let me just collect a few things.”
Trix moved to let her past him but he remained in the doorway, just in case Papa Gatto had any ideas of locking her up again. From the bedrooms, the golden girl fetched a cloak the color of the sky that covered her from head to toe. From the pantry, she fetched a satchel. “I thought we might collect some apples for our journey.”
“Great idea,” said Trix, happy that she was traveling light.
Lizinia paused on the threshold. She turned back to the main room and blew it a kiss before closing the cottage door, which she locked with a golden key that hung from a chain around her neck. Trix said nothing; he knew how difficult it was to leave one’s home behind, prison or no.
"What should we do with this?" Trix asked of the golden apple he'd split in half. While they had prepared to leave it had turned solid metal, from the rind to the pips.
“Bring it," said Lizinia. She put the smaller half of the golden apple in the pocket of her cloak and handed the other half to Trix. “We might need to spend it on something."
"Thank you," said Trix.
"Not at all," said Lizinia. "Only...I do have a small favor to ask of you."
Trix bowed to her as he had to her godfather. Surely whatever she asked couldn’t be as silly as anything Papa Gatto had invented "Name your task, milady."
He could not tell from the shadows cast by the hood of her cloak, but judging by her body language, his comment had left her blushing. (Trix certainly had enough sisters to know.)
"Before we start on the journey to your mother, would you please take me to this ‘magical sea’ that you spoke about? I have never seen the sea, magical or otherwise.”
It was miles out of their way, back over the hills and through the never-ending hayfields. Trix looked up at the sky, noted the position of the sun, and assessed their bearings.
“This way!” he said excitedly. Because no matter where they went, at least they were going . There were no clouds in the sky: neither storms nor cats would cause any more mischief this day.
Trix was happy to note that his enthusiasm pleased Lizinia. Obligingly, she followed him through the hay. “So what did you and Papa talk about?”
“Oh, all sorts of things,” said Trix. “I don’t expect we’ll ever be the best of friends, but we worked it out. And I didn’t end up dipped in anything, which I consider a triumph. Mostly I was relieved when he stopped being mad at me. He really does grin, doesn’t he? That’s a strange sight.”
“Mad? Whyever was Papa Gatto mad at you?”
“Because I forgot to tell you I was a prince. Come on, now, keep up. Adventure awaits!”
6
The True Story
T rix and Lizinia made their way east along the edge of where the impossible ocean met the land it had swallowed. Lizinia kept her hood up, even in the heat of midday, to avoid the urges of any greedy passersby who
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