"Dottie, it's time to get up."
Violeta's soothing voice gently cut through the morning gray like a knife through jelly as Dottie grumbled and turned in her bed, pulling a pillow over her face.
"Come on dear, it's nearly midday. Your breakfast is stone cold," Violeta said gently patting her daughter's back as she sat down on the side of the bed. Dottie groaned.
"What's that? Did you have another nightmare?" Her mother gently took the pillow off and brushed a hand through Dottie's strawberry-blonde hair.
"I don't know.. Maybe…" Dottie's voice was muffled by the bedding.
"It's okay. It was just a dream. You're safe now." Violeta's words lay like a blanket over Dottie and she felt as if a weight lifted from her shoulders. She rolled over, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, and looked at her mother.
"I saw you mama, and Tawlie was there too, and we were both sad," Dottie recounted the fading nightmare.
"There there now, they're not real, they're just dreams," Violeta said taking her daughter's hand reassuringly.
"But they feel so real mama," Dottie spoke sleepily as she sat up. Her mother embraced her and gently stroked her hair. "And why were we all crying but you were also smiling?"
"Sometimes, when you're sad the only thing you can do is smile, and everything feels better. Now come downstairs, I've made your favorite sweetbread for you today," Violeta hugged her daughter tightly and stood up. As she walked out her indigo hair flowed like water behind her, floating in the air as if carried by a breeze.
Dottie rubbed her eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed. She stretched and plopped her feet onto the wood floor. She put on her slippers and slowly descended the spiral staircase, the images from her dream quickly fading with each step.
The table was set, with Violeta and the miller already sitting. Dottie's father grumbled something as she walked by to take her seat with a large slice of sweetbread loaf awaiting her on a wooden plate. She loudly dragged the chair back to sit down on it, before scooting over to the table inch by inch, much to her father's annoyance. Violeta smiled at Dottie, her face youthful and smooth like polished marble or freshly-risen dough. The miller's gnarled callused hands were already tearing into the loaf and shoveling it into his face. Dottie grinned at this and followed suit, much to her mother's dismay.
"Well she may not have your punctuality, but at least she's got your table manners," Violeta remarked as the Miller looked up, too engulfed into his meal to be paying attention.
"Wuzzat?"
"Nothing hon, eat up. I'll get Dottie's boots. We'll be taking that order to town today so I'll be borrowing the mule, is that alright?"
"Go ahead," the miller mumbled a response mid-bite. As Dottie and her father ate, Violeta went about getting a load of baked goods ready for their journey.
Dottie had never gone to deliver an order before and the miller seemed apprehensive about putting her to work doing so. His fondness for his daughter was only ever really expressed when she was hard at work helping around the mill. He used to teach her all sorts of things, even before she could walk or talk properly. But even though he loved his daughter dearly, Dottie couldn't help but feel out of place working in the mill, and she found some solace helping her mother with the baking.
Violeta took the wrapped up loaves outside. Dottie looked at her father as he ate, wondering how such a gruff and hardworking man ended up with her mother. As she pondered, she remembered the dream, she remembered Tawl being in it, and her mother. She wondered why her father wasn't there.
"What? Daydreamin' again? You 'eard yer mother, finish ya food and get goin'!" The miller's words snapped Dottie out of her trance. She looked at her half-eaten slice and then at the doorway.
"I'll eat it on the way," Dottie retorted, wrapping it up in a cloth rag and skipping to the door. The wellies that her mother had made her were already waiting there. She jumped into her boots, nearly falling spectacularly as she did so. Her father let out a gasp.
"Careful!" She turned around and stuck out her tongue at him.
"Always am! Bye pa! Be back later!" She waved and set off toward the front gate where Violeta had already tied the mule to the cart.
"All ready? Let's go!" her mother called out beckoning Dottie to the front bench of the cart. She scampered up the side and planted herself next to her mother, her amethyst eyes beaming up at her mother's, which were perhaps just a shade of purple darker. Violeta gave her a peck on the forehead and the two of them set off towards the town without hurry to their first stop.
Dottie knew that the mill house was old, and countless times complained about it to her father, but the abbey of Woodsboro was far older. The antiquity of the mossy gray stones chiseled and then weathered by rain and snow for centuries was palpable. The air was dank and dense as it hung over the whole place like a translucent curtain. Even the metal fixtures and wooden doors looked as if they were from another age entirely, suspended in time until a candle on them was snuffed out or a creaky handle turned, at which point they almost came alive, swinging and bending slightly, before returning to their immobile eternal state.
A pair of monks opened the front gate for the cart as Violeta led the old mule in. The cart halted and Violeta stepped off the front bench. She spoke quietly with the monks before beckoning her daughter to come as well. Dottie hopped down to the ground, landing on the soft muddy ground with a splatter. She grabbed a small parcel and carried it to the doors to the abbey cellar, followed by Violeta and two monks carrying the rest of the delivery. Violeta placed an arm on Dottie's shoulder and smiled at her as the girl heaved the package onto her head.
The musky cellar was dry and lined with shelves full of boxes and sacks that seemed to go on forever. The shelves slowly turned into barrels as the group proceeded further towards a slightly ajar doorway, and as they did, a strange intoxicating aroma filled the air. Dottie teetered for a moment, inhaling the fumes of the wine kegs around her, before being gently urged on by her mother with a light nudge. She continued up the stairs through the doorway into a kitchen, depositing the parcels onto a shelf pointed out by Violeta.
"Father is waiting for you," one of the monks said quietly to Violeta as the delivery was complete. Dottie looked at her mother, confused, who simply nodded and smiled at her daughter, taking her by the hand.
"Thank you," she said following the monk through another door with Dottie in tow. This hallway was dimly lit but very clean, with a worn carpet laid along the stone floor. As Dottie walked the patterns on the carpet seemed to shift and bend beneath her feet in the flickering candlelight. Suddenly, the carpet ended and she found herself staring at glowing patterns of colors on the tiled floor.
"Wait here dear," Violeta said to Dottie as she let go of her hand and brushed hers through her daughter's hair. Dottie looked up to find herself in the back of a large chapel. Light streamed into the room through ornate stained glass panes, stretching from about two feet from the ground nearly up to the vaulted ceiling. The glass was muddled and murky but this seemed to have made the colors even more vibrant, as the light that shined through changed in hue and dyed the still air with multicolored rays. The emerald green glowed like grass in the morning sun, while the azure blue couldn't be discerned from the sky; the golden amber and ochre topaz shone like sap in the morning sun; the ruby red seemed to almost flow like wine or cordial. She did not know the story which these murals told, but she felt the emotions in each face, the strength in the people's poise, the significance of their very being.
Dottie's eyes flowed from the stained glass to the walls surrounding them which were decorated with beautiful columns, each adorned with a stylized capital and pediment engraved with holy words. Dottie could make out some of the letters, as she enjoyed flipping through her mother's books, but she could not quite read the full inscriptions. Perhaps these pediments told the tale which the stained glass depicted. Perhaps they were simply words of encouragement and knowledge passed on from times of old to these monks by their ancestors. Or perhaps they were warnings, omens of prophecy and peril, destiny and danger. Perhaps she would never know-
"Dottie, come here." Dottie's head jerked towards the direction of her mother. She was standing next to a rotund balding priest. He smiled warmly, not with a twinkle but like a piping bowl of stew or a hot toddy after a fever. She approached cautiously, gingerly stepping around the light cast by the stained glass as if it were sacrilege not to do so. The priest reached out his hand with its large digits and waved her over.
"Hello my child, you're grown quite tall since I've last seen you!" the priest spoke.
"Since her birth blessing, yes. I was hoping we could receive your blessing once more since it's been seven years," Violeta trailed off. The priest nodded and led the pair to the altar.
"Come my child, come and be blessed," the priest said, dipping his thumb into a stone bowl full of water and rubbing the moisture onto Dottie's forehead. She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut as the thumb was lifted. The priest repeated the process several more times, swiping his thumb on her left and right cheek, her chin, and the tip of her nose, speaking as he did so:
"Let the holy spirit guide you as it has in the seven years before. Let it protect you and keep you safe from harm. Let it drive evil from your path and point you towards a life of righteousness. Let it divine a way for you to ease the pain of others and soothe your soul. Amen."
Dottie opened an eye to see the priest smiling and her warmly. Violeta wore a smile too, but it seemed for a moment to be relief. The priest turned to her and beckoned Violeta over.
"Oh yes, of course, but please give me a silent blessing, if you could," she almost begged the priest, who obliged. Dottie watched as her mother closed her eyes and clasped something in her hands close to her chest. As the water touched her face, it almost seemed to sparkle slightly. A faint glow began to emanate from Violeta's hair as it lightened into a deep purple or dark lilac. Her skin became smooth and free of any blemishes, as if she were a statue carved from marble, and a singular amethyst tear streamed down her face. The priest did not seem alarmed, as though this was an ordinary occurrence, and so Dottie too paid it no mind, simply basking in the radiance and beauty of her mother.
"Mama, you looked beautiful back there," Dottie beamed at Violeta as they rode from the abbey to their next delivery stop. "When I grow up, will I be as beautiful as you?"
Violeta looked with surprise into Dottie's eyes which were bespeckled with awe.
"Beautiful? Well of course, you'll look ten times as beautiful as I do, my dear," she said smiling to her daughter, caressing her hair with a free hand as she held the reins with the other. Dottie grinned and began to daydream about what she'd look like. She wondered if perhaps she too would have beautiful purple haid like her mother. Or, she hoped, she'd have pink hair and wear a beautiful pink gown and have a little pink pony to ride on. She looked at the old mule hauling the cart and pondered if the mule would mind if she painted it pink. She then wondered whether or not her father would be cross with her if she were to paint it pink. She thought that perhaps if she just explained it well enough that he might not mind. In fact, she began to think it might attract attention so that she and her mother can open a little bakery next to the mill and call it the Pink Pony. Of course, the pony wasn't actually a pony, or actually pink, but her father would surely understand.
"We're here," Violeta called through the dreamy mist of Dottie's mind. She looked around and her jaw nearly dropped at what she saw.
Before them stood a manor of kingly proportions, made of brick and inlaid with engraved granite panels. It was almost like a castle, she thought, with several sets of windows from the ground to the roof. Several women dressed in fancy black and white dresses carried baskets of fruit and pails of water into one of the many doors on this mansion, as a group of well-dressed men in black took the reins from Violeta and began unloading the parcels. One of them spoke with Dottie's mother before the parcels were taken into the mansion.
Suddenly, Dottie noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye. Poking out between the curtains of a high window was the face of a girl. The girl looked about the scene before the manor. When she met eyes with Dottie's she quickly disappeared out of sight. Dottie looked with curiosity towards where the girl had been.
"Alright, we're all done here, ready to go dear?" Violeta called to Dottie, mounting the cart once more. Dottie nodded silently, staring at the window as the cart rolled out the gates of the manor. The cart rattled on, and Dottie kept staring until the manor was out of view. She then turned to her mother.
"Mama, does the mayor have a daughter?" she asked curiously.
"He's got a boy and a girl as far as I recall," her mother answered. "Would you like to ask to meet them?"
Dottie shook her head. "No thank you, I have you and Tawlie! I don't need any more friends!" she said without thinking.
"But dear you can never have too many friends," Violeta said laughing. "Why don't I pass along a note when the mayor places another order? I'm sure you'll all get along and be great friends."
Dottie squirmed at the thought of this. Her mother's words were gentle but incisive and hit close to home. Dottie's only friends were her own mother and the son of a leatherworker, whose mind could only focus on two things - adventure and fishing. Perhaps some new friends wouldn't hurt, not to mention the kids of the mayor.
"Okay mama," Dottie relented, slumping slightly. Her mother gently patted her on the back. Dottie felt reassured. "Where are we going to now mama?"
"We just have one more delivery to make and then we'll be going home. Are you hungry at all?" Dottie's stomach gurgled as if to respond to the question and she grinned at her mother. Violeta smiled and handed her a small neatly wrapped parcel. "Here you go my dear, I brought one of Tawl's pies," she said.
Dottie's eyes lit up as she greedily tore into the packaging to reveal the pie. It had been a little bit squished by one of the other parcels but she devoured it anyway, scarfing down the whole thing in a minute.
"Slow down, you'll choke on it!" Violeta warned, laughing at her daughter's ravenous hunger. Dottie relented and chewed the last two bites slowly, keeping her mouth open as she did so to spite her mother. Violeta rolled her eyes and looked away. Dottie looked around as she licked her fingers clean, suddenly stopping as she recognized where they were.
"The school?" Dottie's inquisitive remark caused Violeta to jump in surprise.
"I.. how did you know? Have you and Tawl been wandering around town again?" Violeta gave her daughter a stern look, who simply looked down with embarrassment. "I wanted to keep it a surprise, but yes.. You've always wanted to go to school, right? To learn how to read? Well, I've been saving up and I wanted to ask the principal about you today."
"But I wanna go with Tawlie! And he's not going to school yet because his daddy says he has to be a leather maker!" Dottie complained loudly. Violeta's stern expression softened into a frown.
"Shh dear we'll talk about it later, okay? I'm just going to ask the principal about-"
"I don't wanna go to school without Tawlie!!" Dottie crossed her arms and pouted.
"Please, don't make a scene," Violeta said in a worried tone. "Please just… we can talk about it when we get home, okay? I'll even make you a nice blackberry pie-"
"I don't want pie!! I want Tawlie to go to school with me!" Dottie was on the verge of tears. Violeta's face contorted into an anxious grimace.
"Dot please, don't do this," Violeta begged. She knew what was coming next.
Dottie opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs in the most shrill voice she could manage. She kicked her legs on the seat and screamed her heart out. It wasn't fair if she got to go to school and Tawl had to stay in that smelly workshop and carve leather all day. It just wasn't fair and the world had to know how unfair it was. She just had to let the world know, and so she screamed. And then, all of the sudden, she felt herself stop screaming and a calmness flow over her, like warm water.
"Dottie, wake up my dear," Violeta's voice cut through the fog.
Dottie roused herself from the hard bench of the cart where she seemed to have curled up and fallen asleep. She blinked sleepily at the setting sun as the cart climbed towards the mill house.
"Where are we?" Dottie asked, smacking her lips as she took in the surroundings.
"We're almost home. You fell asleep on the way, I made the last delivery already," Violeta said patting her daughter on the head.
The last delivery. Delivery to the school. The school where she'd be going. Without Tawl. Dottie's eyes swelled with tears as she thought about this.
"Oh no, don't cry dear, it's okay. Maybe Tawl's daddy will still let him go. Maybe he'll change his mind," Violeta's reassuring tone warmed Dottie, but the tears still came, silently this time. She nodded and leaned on her mother's shoulder as Violeta drove the cart. Maybe, Dottie thought, Tawl should go to the abbey for a blessing. Perhaps then his father may let him go to school and study to be an adventurer or explorer. And then they'd get to learn together and play together and they'd always be friends forever and ever. Surely…