Mare Tails: Part 1. Departure
Holly Hickman ’14
It was dusk, the golden after-light of the set sun quickly fad
ing to a gray twilight. Everyone in the small village was settling
down for the night, nesded by a warm crackling fire, curled up
under heavy quilts on goose down mattresses, some still strag
gling by heavy wooden dinner tables, only very, very few still
outside rushing for home. All but one, that is.
One lone figure cloaked and hooded in thick wool glided
silently away fi’om the last cottage on the main lane running
through the village. The pace of the loner quickened as the lane
began to gradually climb out of the village. At the top of the rise
the loner paused to look over its shoulder. The silvery fiill moon
glinted off the distant ocean quietly lapping at the narrow shore
turned to pearl in the moonlight. The loner stood motionless,
listening to the lullaby the ocean sang to the village, already nos
talgic for the sound of it, the homelike comfort.
A gentle breeze swelled up from behind the village, a cool
farewell kiss from the ocean for the loner, stirring the thick cloak
bout its legs and disturbing a traitorous lock of hair to dance
across the hidden face, past the concealing hood. A slight chin
rose stiffly, allowing the moonlight to rise silkenly up a delicate
jaw and glint brightly in a confident eye.
The loner turned quickly, headed for a heavily boarded struc
ture set off the road a bit, Orion already making a crown above
its peak. The loner swept silendy into the great structure, the
huge wide door barely groaning audibly at the disturbance. A
curly brown head rose under the glow of an oil lamp to gaze at
the intruder from his slump by the wall.
Letting hood fall, Lara stepped up to the younger boy who
had been positioned there to wait for her.
“Are they ready?” she questioned him. It took him a moment
to answer; he had been momentarily struck speechless by the
sight of Lara’s auburn hair turned golden in the lamplight.
“Um...,” his brain finally made connection with his mouth,
“you look...golden...,” he gasped. The soft Hght from the lamp
gave him the impression that he was swimming in ale.
“Lucas!” she exclaimed exasperatedly, also caught slighdy off
guard. The youth in his mid-teens, curly caramel hair, dusty
green eyes, and a pleasant face in general, was only a few years
younger than Lara’s own seventeen years of age, but in all actu
ality her nephew.
“I’m sorry - trick of the light,” he babbled turning away from
her. She still caught the flush of red that covered not only his
(See MARE, Page 13)
“ Think Globally, Act Locally”
Fall Colors by Rebecca Maye '12
FaU Colors by Hope Beatson ’12
The Knight by Rick Wells, Campus Safety