that’s the way you want it …”
“No, I would prefer that you would honor my choice and accept Celeste for who she is. You might even compliment her. But if you refuse to care for her—”
“Oh, I do care about her, very much. That is why I am pointing out her errors. How else will she be corrected?”
“The logs, dear mother, the logs,” Peter said.
“What logs?”
“The ones in your eyes.”
At that his mother went off in a huff.
That night, Peter and Celeste talked about what to do. “It’s too bad,” Celeste said. “Your parents are so conscientious about following the King’s rule. I’m sure they’re only acting this way because they miss you so much.”
“Telling me to stop going to the King’s City? Criticizing you for the way you sing? If we stay here any longer, I’m afraid it will harm us. I can’t put their happiness above our partnership. We’ll have to leave tomorrow.”
In the morning, they packed their bags. Peter’s parents wept, for they were convinced Peter and Celeste would be killed before they reached the King’s City.
As they started on the path, Peter took Celeste by the hand. “Will you walk on with me?”
“Certainly,” she said, smiling.
And they traveled on through Echo Gap, listening carefully for each other’s whispers until they came out on the other side.
I N THE B URR P ATCH OF U NKIND W ORDS
The path became smooth and grassy as it had been at the beginning of their journey together. They collected things for their basket of remembrance, and every morning before they set off, they read the guidebook together. They stopped whenever they met other travelers, so Celeste could talk with them and find out their news. Peter didn’t mind because they were making such good progress. But one night Celeste stayed up quite late talking with some travelers. In the morning Peter woke her up early, as he always did, then set out on their usual brisk pace. Celeste started to fall behind, but Peter just kept hiking. Celeste startedto feel cross that he never looked back to see if she was all right. Finally she ran and caught up with him.
“Please stop,” she said, sounding a little more cross than she intended. “You got so far ahead I couldn’t see you anymore.”
“Sometimes I think you just want to play all the time.” Peter sounded just as cross. “We have a journey to make.”
“Do you always have to go so fast?”
“Why don’t you ever keep up? Why do you always drag behind? Sometimes I wonder if you really want to walk with me. If you did you’d go faster, instead of being so lazy.”
A patch of burr bushes began to border the path.
“You’re always in such a hurry.”
“If you were more disciplined and focused, you could keep up,” Peter said.
“If you weren’t so rigid about reaching a certain spot,” Celeste said, “you would slow down.”
As their voices grew heated, the burr bushes started to crowd them on both sides of the path.
“We’d never get to the nice campsites.”
“When we keep your pace, I’m too tired to enjoy them when we get there.”
By then, the burr bushes had surrounded them completely. Each time one of them said something unkind, a burr jumped and stuck to their clothes.
“If you didn’t talk so much, you could concentrate on keeping up.”
“If you would slow down, I could sing better.”
They kept throwing barbs at each other.
“You’re too slow.”
“You don’t know how to enjoy life.”
“You dawdle.”
“You’re sour.”
Soon they were covered with burrs from head to toe.
“Stop it!” Celeste said. “You’re pinching me.”
“No, I’m not—you’re pinching me.”
“It’s all these burrs.”
“Well, where did they come from? We were fine until you started to complain about how fast I was going.”
“No, it’s
“No, I would prefer that you would honor my choice and accept Celeste for who she is. You might even compliment her. But if you refuse to care for her—”
“Oh, I do care about her, very much. That is why I am pointing out her errors. How else will she be corrected?”
“The logs, dear mother, the logs,” Peter said.
“What logs?”
“The ones in your eyes.”
At that his mother went off in a huff.
That night, Peter and Celeste talked about what to do. “It’s too bad,” Celeste said. “Your parents are so conscientious about following the King’s rule. I’m sure they’re only acting this way because they miss you so much.”
“Telling me to stop going to the King’s City? Criticizing you for the way you sing? If we stay here any longer, I’m afraid it will harm us. I can’t put their happiness above our partnership. We’ll have to leave tomorrow.”
In the morning, they packed their bags. Peter’s parents wept, for they were convinced Peter and Celeste would be killed before they reached the King’s City.
As they started on the path, Peter took Celeste by the hand. “Will you walk on with me?”
“Certainly,” she said, smiling.
And they traveled on through Echo Gap, listening carefully for each other’s whispers until they came out on the other side.
I N THE B URR P ATCH OF U NKIND W ORDS
The path became smooth and grassy as it had been at the beginning of their journey together. They collected things for their basket of remembrance, and every morning before they set off, they read the guidebook together. They stopped whenever they met other travelers, so Celeste could talk with them and find out their news. Peter didn’t mind because they were making such good progress. But one night Celeste stayed up quite late talking with some travelers. In the morning Peter woke her up early, as he always did, then set out on their usual brisk pace. Celeste started to fall behind, but Peter just kept hiking. Celeste startedto feel cross that he never looked back to see if she was all right. Finally she ran and caught up with him.
“Please stop,” she said, sounding a little more cross than she intended. “You got so far ahead I couldn’t see you anymore.”
“Sometimes I think you just want to play all the time.” Peter sounded just as cross. “We have a journey to make.”
“Do you always have to go so fast?”
“Why don’t you ever keep up? Why do you always drag behind? Sometimes I wonder if you really want to walk with me. If you did you’d go faster, instead of being so lazy.”
A patch of burr bushes began to border the path.
“You’re always in such a hurry.”
“If you were more disciplined and focused, you could keep up,” Peter said.
“If you weren’t so rigid about reaching a certain spot,” Celeste said, “you would slow down.”
As their voices grew heated, the burr bushes started to crowd them on both sides of the path.
“We’d never get to the nice campsites.”
“When we keep your pace, I’m too tired to enjoy them when we get there.”
By then, the burr bushes had surrounded them completely. Each time one of them said something unkind, a burr jumped and stuck to their clothes.
“If you didn’t talk so much, you could concentrate on keeping up.”
“If you would slow down, I could sing better.”
They kept throwing barbs at each other.
“You’re too slow.”
“You don’t know how to enjoy life.”
“You dawdle.”
“You’re sour.”
Soon they were covered with burrs from head to toe.
“Stop it!” Celeste said. “You’re pinching me.”
“No, I’m not—you’re pinching me.”
“It’s all these burrs.”
“Well, where did they come from? We were fine until you started to complain about how fast I was going.”
“No, it’s
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