This is just a cutesy little story I've been writing. I don't expect anybody will actually read it, since people here seem to avoid everything I say like the plague, but I'm sort of hoping somebody will. I would hope that nobody tries to steal this because it's not worth anything, and then I'd have to sic my 1 oz attack fluffball hamster on them.

 Chronicles of Ferendel: The Lookout

The land of Ferendel rose from the ocean like a stone in a creek; the sort which rises from the water in an ungainly fashion but stubbornly refuses to move year after year, no matter how hard the water goes at it. And just like a child might use a creek rock for a bridge, the island looked for all the world like a giant stepping stone connecting the ocean and the mainland.

However, for a barrier island, it was not without its comforts. It was quite large for an island, and even possessed three mountains of its very own, which the residents had lovingly named Footbreaker I, Footbreaker II, and Little Dumpling. (Ironically, Little Dumpling was the largest of the three, but had the most easily-traversable paths.) The island was roughly bowl-shaped, as though some giant had taken out a big spoonful out of it. There were high cliffs all around the land, but they were at their worst on the ocean side of Ferendel. The high rocks of its well known (and cursed, by seagoing merchants) cliffs were almost as impenetrable as those of a fortress, broken only by the river Rockbreaker, which cut its path through the land like a knife through butter. Not that there was a lot of butter there, mind you. Cows were spooked by the cliffs. Other livestock like goats didn't mind, but when was the last time a host offered you goat butter?

However, despite the rather distressing lack of butter, the villagers were quite happy. The bowl shape of the land kept things quite fertile, and there was always plenty of fresh water to drink running off the cliffs. Laws were fair, and people generally had too much common sense to go around breaking them. The combination of the altitude and the fresh sea air kept people pretty healthy, too.

In other words, it was peaceful, yet dead boring sometimes.

“Where are we going again?” asked Annelise, blowing back some wheat-colored hair that kept getting in her eyes. They had been trudging up Footbreaker II for some time now, and it was getting pretty miserable. The collar of her blue woolen shift was sticking to the back of her neck, which was both hot and quite itchy. Also, both she and her companion Brina had neglected to pack any food for this journey.

Brina, finishing her drink from the stream reminded her. Again. Hadn't she already explained this? Or maybe she had forgotten. That was possible.

“We were going to hike up to the top and try to find the old lookout tower. It's supposed to be really cool.”

Annelise frowned. “I'm pretty sure that's just an old tale. Besides, I told you I had to be back early. My cousin's coming over for the summer from the mainland. I ought to be there.”

“Oh,” said Brina. She didn't remember being told that, but it was, of course, very possible she'd forgotten that, too. At the tender age of seven, only the most exciting things tended to stick in her mind. Although only a year older, Annelise was far more mature, and had a much better memory span.

“Well, I guess we ought to go back, then,” Brina said, with a last longing look up the mountain. I bet it's really cool up there. I wonder, does your cousin like hiking up mountains to see lookout towers?”

Annelise didn't think so, but she politely answered,

“I don't know. I haven't met him yet.”

This, of course was true. It was rather a bother for mainland folk to visit families on Ferendel, and vice versa. The cliffs presented a rather big challenge. Trading with merchants in boats always took place using a set of pulleys and baskets that hung down from the cliff's edge. (How the pulleys originally got there, nobody knew.) While the mainland side of the cliffs were navigable, shallow-bottomed boats like the ones fishermen had were the only ones that could traverse the rocky shallows between Ferendel and the mainland, the reason why big merchant ships didn't just move around to the island's other side.

However, Annelise's cousin would be coming over from the mainland that summer. Apparently, his parents were in the process of building a new house, and he kept getting in the way. Remembering that bit of information made Annelise think that he and Brina would probably get along quite nicely.

She watched Brina practically bounce down the mountainside, and wondered where all that energy came from, and why she didn't have any. Her friend was about as sturdy as a young mountain goat. She was also an odd sight to see. She was small for her age, but had no particularly distinguishing features except for her wildly tangled, sticking-out-in-all-directions carroty colored hair. In addition to this, she had persuaded her mother to teach her to sew big pockets onto all her dresses because 'They're just so useful!' Naturally, the needlework of a seven-year old with the attention span of a monkey wasn't...the prettiest ever. But she was very happy with it, so folks around her just smiled and pretended that the orange plaid patch she had chosen to go with a robin's egg blue dress matched beautifully. People on Ferendel were like that.

“Ooh, look at that feather,” said Brina happily.

Annelise, in comparison to Brina looked absolutely normal. Her wheat-colored hair actually behaved like hair, and was beautifully complemented by her warm, sky-colored eyes. Of course, she had a few oddities of her own, such as nearly always wearing clothes that were green. (Today, however, was a rare tan day.) But she always paled in comparison to Brina's outlandish oddness.

Brina, who had finished her inspection of the feather long ago, was already perched on a lichen-crested rock farther down the mountain. The sun, turning her carrot colored hair into copper, clearly said that it was more than midway to noon.

“Hurry up, slowpoke!” called Brina good naturedly. She never worried about the time, and would never likely be on time for anything in her whole life. Annelise adjusted her pace and caught up to the rock. Her friend bounced off it and started down the mountain, only this time she was singing as she went. The bottom of the mountainside was edged by a neat little village, which they were rapidly approaching, thanks to Brina's quick pace. Annelise smiled; not only was this a particularly friendly village, it was a sure sign they were close to home. Already, residents out for walks and in their gardens were chuckling at the sight of the two trouncing along and Brina's slightly off-key (but very enthusiastic) singing.

This is going to be a good day, thought Annelise.   

-End of Chapter- 

I really enjoyed it December, you should write some more :)