A March of Kings - By Morgan Rice Page 0,40

fields bursting with color, a rainbow of pinks and greens and purples and whites, and Krohn ran around them, in circles, yelping and jumping, seeming even more happy than they. Finally they came to a large hill, and as they reached its top, Gwen stopped, and Thor did, too. He stopped, awestruck at the sight before him: there, on the horizon, sat a huge lake, made of a white-blue water, clearer than any water he had ever seen, sparkling beneath the sun. It was surrounded by towering mountains, and their cliffs looked alive, sparkling all different colors in the morning sunlight.

“The Lake of the Cliffs,” she said. “It is ancient. It is a hidden lake; no one ever comes here. I discovered it when I was a child. I had too much time on my hands, and I would explore. Do you see that small island, there?” she asked, pointing.

Thor squinted into the sun, shimmering off the lake, and he saw it. A small island sat in the center of the lake, far from shore.

“It is where I would escape as a child. I would take that small boat, there,” she said, pointing to a weathered rowboat on shore, “and row out myself. Sometimes I would spend entire days on it, far from everyone. It was a place where no one could get to me. It is the only place left for me that is pure.”

She turned and looked at Thor, and he looked at her. Her eyes were glowing, all different shades of blue, and they seemed truly alive for the first time since her father had died.

“I would like to take you there,” she said. “I would like to share it with you.”

Thor felt deeply touched, closer to her than he ever had.

“I would love to,” he said.

She took his hand, and leaned in, and he leaned in, too, and their lips met. It was a magical kiss, the sun emerging from behind a cloud as they did, and he felt his entire being warm over. Her lips were smooth, and he reached up and felt her cheek, which was even smoother.

They held the kiss for a long time, until finally she pulled away and smiling, took his hand. The two of them began to walk down the hill, sloping gently down towards the shore of the lake, towards the small boat that sat there, waiting. Thor could hardly wait.

*

Thor rowed the small boat as Gwendolyn sat opposite him, across the tranquil white-blue waters of the lake, and as they crossed it, he rowed them right up onto the sandy shore of the small island, its sand sparkling red. Thor jumped out, pulled the boat up safely, then reached out and took Gwen’s hand and helped her off. Krohn leapt out with an excited yelp, and began running on the sand.

Thor took Gwen’s hand, and she lead the way as the two of them began hiking on the small island, the sand quickly giving way to a small field of grass and flowers. The island was alive with the sound of swaying trees, towering, exotic trees which leaned all the way over, the summer breezes rocking them left and right. As they swayed they dropped down small, white flower petals, falling like snow all around them. Gwen was right: this place was magical.

Gwen giggled, her spirits clearly lifted to be here; she took Thor’s hand and led him on a small trail through the winding green paths. He could tell from how she walked that she knew every inch of this island by heart, and he wondered where she was taking him.

They twisted and turned, up-and-down trails, Thor ducking his head here and there to avoid branches, until finally she lead them to a small clearing, hidden by trees, in the center of the island. Thor was surprised to see that in its center sat the ruins of a small, crumbling stone structure, its walls still standing, but its inside hollowed out long ago. It was open to the elements on all sides, and its floor was comprised of a thick, soft moss. Inside there was a small mound of earth which curved gently upward, providing a small, naturally inclined bed.

Gwen led Thor, and they lay down on it, beside each other, their backs resting on the slope, looking up at the sky. Krohn ran over and lay down beside Gwen, and as she giggled and petted him, Thor was starting to wonder if Krohn liked Gwen more