Marinta
:Story::Search::Candidate:
:Hatching::Weyrling::Adult:
:Caer Brynmor::Tripaldi Weyr:

The little girl giggled happily and her father smiled at her. She was only three years old, but the child seemed very well able to keep herself amused. She would sit on the floor and gaze up at a chair or a spot on the sofa, grinning and giggling in delight as if she saw the most entertaining sight before her. Indeed her father worried what could keep the child so amused, but she showed no signs of being unintelligent other than this odd behavior. So, much as it concerned him, he was forced to ignore it and allow the child to continue. He consoled himself that the behavior made her an easy child to raise as he had lost her mother during the birth.

Marinta grinned mischievously and darted into the garden with a squeal of delight. She was nine years old and her greatest joy in the world was to play in the garden like this. She dashed down the wide path, rounding a bend and skidding to a stop as she saw her father walking toward her along the same path.

“Morning Daddy!” she grinned and rushed forward to give him a hug and a kiss.

“Good morning, Marinta,” he said, smiling down at her indulgently. “And what has you screaming and dashing about so early in the morning?”

“Just playing with Mama, Daddy!” she grinned and danced away from him. Though she did not see it her father stared after her with an astonished and disturbed look on his face.

She kept dancing along the path until she came to a bench where she saw a shadowy figure seated with a peacefully happy look on her face. Marinta grinned and skipped forward to sit on the ground and rest her head on the woman’s lap.

“You beat me, Mama!” she said with a smile as the shadowy woman gently stroked her hair.

“So I did,” said the woman, smiling softly. “That’s a first. What took you so long?”

“I ran into Daddy and had to give him a hug and a kiss,” said Marinta with a soft giggle.

The woman seemed to stiffen and her hands stilled over her daughter’s hair. “You did not tell him who you were playing with, did you dearest?”

“Of course I did, Mama, why shouldn’t he know?”

“Dearest, no one should know that you and I play together still. They would not understand.”

“But why, Mama? Isn’t it natural for a mother and daughter to play?” asked Marinta, looking up at her mother through wide, innocent eyes.

The woman’s eyes grew troubled and she seemed to frown for a moment. Her next words seemed to cause her great pain and one could almost believe a tear slid down her pale, shadowy cheek. “I do not think we should play together anymore, dearest. I must leave you.”

“Alright then, Mama,” said the girl, laying her head back down on her mother’s lap. “When will you be back?”

“Never dear,” said the woman, standing quickly, her form passing through that of her daughter so that Marinta was left with her head resting against the bench. “I must leave you forever, for your own good.”

“What?” cried Marinta, standing quickly, tears filling her grayish blue eyes. “No, Mama! Don’t leave me!”

“I’m sorry, Marinta dear. I will continue to watch over you, but you must not see me anymore!” The ghost of her mother faded away then and Marinta cried out in despair and ran about that part of the garden frantically hoping this was some sort of new game.

“Mama! Where are you? Don’t leave me, Mama! I won’t tell anyone anymore, please Mama! Mama!”

Realizing that her mother was not going to answer her and was not going to come back, Marinta fell to her knees by the bench and sobbed, feeling her heart must be broken. Her mother had been there with her, in her shadowy form for as long as she could remember, and now she must live without her forever! It was too much to be born and Marinta spent a good part of the day kneeling by the bench where she had last glimpsed her and cried herself into a stupor.

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