#widojestweek2021

*

“As the wolf grew old, he did not roam the lands like he used to,” read Caleb. “His fur grew gray and his teeth grew duller, but still he sang on and on. He knew that his end was fast approaching, and so on the night of the full moon, he climbed to the tallest mountain and called up to his love, bright and shining in the sky.”

“And there atop the mountain, the wolf’s fur turned as silver as the moonlight, and his howl grew strong again in his chest. At once a starry path stretched before him into the night sky above, and in his keen ears he heard at last the melody of his love singing back, low and sweet.”

“His path was clear. Without hesitation he bounded up into the dark night, towards the stars and the waiting moon above. Higher and higher he went, nearly vanishing from sight, until all that remained was a twinkle of starlight in his eyes and a whisper of a duet between the moon and the wolf who loved her.”

As Caleb closed the book, he felt the gentle weight of Jester’s head resting on his shoulder. He placed the book on the little wooden side table and exhaled slowly.

“Thank you, Caleb,” said Jester quietly.

“Anytime,” said Caleb, allowing himself the faintest of smiles.

As the days went on, Caleb read her all of his favorite fairy tales. He told her about a princess swept away by an emerald wave and the court wizard who saved her. He spun stories of a dragon in disguise among common folk, of a princess with flaxen hair locked away in a high tower, of a pair of enchanted boots and two half-elf siblings who quarreled over them.

Sometimes as Caleb read aloud, they sipped hot cocoa, its flavor rich and sweet on the tongue (and always with the tiny marshmallows that Jester loved). Other days they had cookies dusted with cinnamon sugar and flaky pastries streaked with chocolate, fresh from the tower’s kitchens. He knew just the things to feed her sweet tooth. And almost by accident, the two of them slipped into a familiar, comfortable rhythm.

Caleb would set his Dancing Lights in gentle orbits around the couch while he read, the pale amber orbs drifting freely as they cast their warm light about the space. There were more decorations now, and extra pillows for the couch. Just little touches to make the place feel more like home. He loved watching Jester’s expressions-- the way she hung on every word, the way her face lit up with wonder and delight at each strange and fantastic new development. She was Jester. She was irrepressible. She was so easy to love.

Jester often asked for more stories about princesses, and Caleb was happy to oblige. Stories with princesses usually ended well enough for the princesses, he observed. And in between doodles of their friends, Jester filled pages of her sketchbook with art of her favorite characters from the stories. Sometimes she would stay late and stretch out on the rug (Caleb had recently added a rug) and draw while he watched. He swore a few of the princesses bore an uncanny resemblance to Jester herself, and the handsome princes and knights, well… It was nice, he thought. This was nice.

*

Before long, Caleb had nearly reached the end of the collection of stories. As they were settling down on the couch one evening, an idea came to him.

“Jester?” said Caleb, yawning. “Perhaps you could tell the story tonight?”

Jester’s eyes widened. “Me? I mean... okay! But I’ve got to think of a really good one first.”

“Take your time,” said Caleb, leaning into her as she looped an arm around his shoulder. The couch they were sitting on was simple and comfortable, and in the brick fireplace, the fire crackled and popped. Caleb grabbed an apple tart off a nearby tray and breathed in the warm, heady scent of cinnamon before taking a bite.

“Hmm... okay, got it,” said Jester. “So this story is about a cat.”

“I like it already,” Caleb remarked.

“Shush, I’m telling the story. Anyway. This little cat lived in a grand house with her mama, who was a very beautiful cat that lots of people liked to come and pet. And they loved each other very much, but sometimes the little cat got lonely, since she had never been outside of the house. And one day a crimson weasel appeared at the window, and he told the little cat that he could show her the world.”

“She was a little scared, but also excited. And when the Trav-- when the weasel opened up the window, the little cat took one last look at her home before she stepped outside and began her adventure. ‘Hey weasel, what if it’s dangerous out there?’ the little cat asked.”

“‘Why, of course it’s dangerous. But don’t you know you have claws, my dear?’ said the weasel. And the little cat looked down at her little paws and was like, ‘Wait, I totally have claws!’ But she’d never used them before.”

“Never fear, I will teach you,” said the weasel, and the little cat trusted him. Though there were lots of scary things out there like dogs and raccoons and people who didn’t like cats, there were so many wonderful things too.”

“And she met tons of other cats on her journey. Wherever she went, she made lots and lots of friends. She met a cat who loved the water, and a cat who hated it. She met a cat who was big and strong, and a cat who was light and moved real fast. She met a cat who was really colorful, and a cat who was all black, and a cat who was kind of… green and pink, I guess? Anyway.”

“But there was one cat that really stood out to her,” Jester continued. “He had orange fur, smelled kind of bad, and was honestly pretty scruffy-looking for a cat.”

“Hey!” interjected Caleb.

“I’m not done yet,” said Jester. “Even though the orange cat was oh-so-stinky, he was also her favorite. The orange cat knew a lot of good tricks, and he was always trying to help his friends. And though he was sad an awful lot, she kind of liked it. Because it meant that it was okay for her to be sad sometimes too.”

“Having him as a friend helped her to be brave. He never said it in words, but she knew the orange cat loved her. And though it took her a while to realize it, deep down in her heart she knew she loved him too, and she wanted to go on crazy adventures with him always.”

Always, Caleb thought to himself. He kind of liked the sound of that.

“And how does our story end?” he asked, a smile playing across his lips.