Shema's Glory is a cute little story originally wirtten for Sierra's QFG Message Board.
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Shema's Glory |
Shema's Glory |
Shema smiled secretly to herself as she stretched languidly in front of the fire in the Hero’s Tale Inn. Yes, things had certainly changed since those days of confrontation and heated argument several weeks ago. She began slowly cleaning her face with her paws, enjoying the warmth and of the fire. The heat reminded her of her dear homeland.
Looking lazily out the window, she was just in time to see that funny fellow again—the stranger with the long, flowing red cape. He came tearing into Spielburg again through the town gates, but then he paused for several minutes. He gazed—with hands on hips—right, left, all around, surveying the scene.
"He does that every time he comes into town!" she thought to herself with mirth. "Surely he’s had enough of gawking around there by now!"
The strange man suddenly dropped his hands and came racing across the street. He flung open the door of the inn, and stood panting in the doorway for a moment.
"My goodness!" Shema yowled, startled, and tried to smooth out her inadvertently bristling tail.
"I’m running everywhere to build up strength," the stranger gave by way of explanation, smiling rather sheepishly. With that, he flung himself on the bench in front of the fire without saying anything further.
Shema, enjoying her new role, stood and rang the little bell she kept at her side. Shameen, his face covered with flour and his apron stained in several places, came flustered out of the kitchen. He took the stranger’s order with some trepidation, but he looked relieved to hear it would only be coffee for now. He bustled back to the kitchen without another word, his mind full of troubling thoughts of the stew bubbling over on the stove.
Shema smiled again with satisfaction. Already Shameen’s honey chicken was almost as good as hers. He was learning quickly. And his stew of newborn lamb, with just a little more practice, would be ready for guest tables.
Suddenly, there was a loud, pained yelp from the kitchen and a pot lid clattered noisily to the floor. Shema pricked up one ear and tilted it back with concern. After a moment, the acrid smell of her soul mate’s singed fur drifted out from the kitchen. Alarmed, Shema’s impulse was to spring to his assistance. She had to force herself, however, to stay where she was.
"No, not today. I’m not going to worry today," she reminded herself. There would be plenty of time, and there would be time enough later, as well, to talk about a fair redistribution of tasks. Today, she was going to enjoy her self-proclaimed holiday.
Yes, Shema smiled again, as she sank back to her warm, luxurious cushion in front of the fire. Yes, indeed, things had certainly changed. She closed her eyes and considered taking a nap.
By Magic Aaron, all "writes" reserved
