Memories made to be forgotten

“Oh Amberle, get up.” As he always did when he meant to be imposing, he had his arms crossed, but she could see that Leander was turning his head in an attempt to not laugh.



Amberle stood on her knees, her hands clasped dramatically before her. “Please, can’t I stay out a little longer?” She did her best to be as overly dramatic as possible. An unfortunate by product of this was that her knee pressed her skirt into the mud that was forming quickly at his feet. She could feel the cold water and grains of the coarse mud pressing against her knee, but it would clean itself off if she could stay out in the rain longer.

“Amberle, stop it. Look, your dress is muddy now. You know how my mother and aunt are.” He rolled his eyes at her. Amberle couldn't help noticing that his own thin shirt was also getting drenched. For a moment, she felt bad for forcing him stand out in the rain while she behaved in a silly manner, and she felt worse for even daring to look.



She stood up before him, doing her best not to look at his arms crossed over his shirt. “It’s not my fault they’re so… so…” Amberle tried to bite her tongue. Let it be known that she tried to not say a bad work about those who had "graciously" brought her into their home after her mother’s death. Of course, just like her feet sometimes got out from under her and sent her flying, he mouth did the same. “Mean, horrible, awful, and.. and mean!”

“You already said mean.”

“I know, I’m repeating for effect!” She knew she was making it difficult on him. Leander rarely got involved. This was the first time he had taken a stand, and even then it was a stand only she knew about as they had snuck out of the house. She sighed. “Okay, I’m done.”



There had been a pause just before they headed back. Leander stood before her, the corners of his mouth turned up as if he were noticing for the first time that she was indeed a silly creature. Amberle had only stood there awkwardly waiting for Leander to start heading back home as she wouldn’t do it unless he made her do it.






Amberle sat up with the lingering pieces of the dream sticking to her mind like honey. She was sorely disappointed to find out that not only was she dreaming, but the sun hadn’t risen yet. It had taken a while to find a comfortable way to sleep on her back while not putting too much pressure on her still sunburned skin. Perhaps she had finally just gotten too tired trying to get comfortable and had fallen asleep in some position that was uncomfortable enough to eventually wake her again.

The dream had been so real she had felt cold and was surprised to find herself waking up and not wet. She had been in the forest she used to live in when she was a girl.



Amberle brought up her knees, kicking off the blanket in the process, so she could wrap her arms around her legs and think.

It was a memory she cherished, but one she had forgotten about until recently. It was one of her few happy memories, but it contained the last person she wanted to think about again. Wasn’t it just her luck that he would be the one sent by The Council? It was like a bad romance novel, only this could not end well. He did not mean well for her or her newly adopted people. That her mind had called forth that particular memory so vividly was cruel.

Amberle’s mind touched on the facts of her life. After Anthea, her adopted mother, had passed away, Amberle had been shuttled to the household of Anthea's sisters, Honey and Snowdew. They refused to waste their life force raising her as their sister had though. Amberle was little better than a servant. There she had met her “cousin” Leander, son of Honey.

Most of her memories were better off forgotten. For a while they had been, but now she could see they would come back. She had hidden from them for long enough.



She refused to think on it anymore. Amberle stood up, intent on getting a glass of water. Perhaps she would be able to banish the thoughts and memories long enough to at least get a few more minutes of rest before she woke to get ready for school.