The White Horse Inn, Act II

[Writer of The Mark]

"Linnea?"

Her father came running towards Linnea and Ruthven, who were still standing, looking at the fire and how the flames developed greatly. The girl let go of Ruthven's hand, eyeing her father's expression, which implied that he was very angry.

"Where have you been, girl?" he said being furious with her. Was it only out of worry? Linnea didn't know. Ruthven, still being quiet, gazed at Linnea's father. "I am sorry for my daughter's behaviour," he continued, having quite another tone. "Up now, your room!" the girl?s father said angrily. Linnea saw the seriousness in the affair and started her way back. Ruthven gave a faint smile, telling the father that his daughter had done nothing wrong. "I was worried," Linnea heard her father excuse himself, in front of Ruthven. She shook her head, eyeing her father out of the corner of her eyes, asking to help with the buckets.

She sprang towards the Inn, not wanting to let her father down again. "Always," she muttered, being slightly disappointed that she couldn't be there when the flames would be under control. She grew angry with this thought, but slid inside the door, like she had just slid out of it half an hour before.

There were more people inside now than there had been earlier. Linnea passed the reception desk, which, higher than she was tall, hid what lay beyond it. She grinned as she thought about her father's worst mistake: letting his daughter wander to her room, alone. Why does he need to be the hero, when she discovered the fire first? It was unfair and totally out of character, from her father's side of course. She climbed the last stairs, still being angry, not wanting to forgive her father. "If that's the way he wants it, then he sure shall have it," she said with determination, pondering about her sweet revenge, which she would have one day.

Linnea halted as she heard someone coming, only around the corner. She stepped backwards, waiting for the person to appear right in front of her. She took a breath, and waited.

Linnea stood, still waiting. No one appeared! Had she imagined the foot steps? She shivered as she felt a breeze take her. Inside? Windy? The little girl opened her eyes wide, wondering where this cold air came from. She forgot all about the footsteps and went looking for the source instead. She turned on the corner, following the red carpet, which was placed in the hallway. Linnea stopped to look at one of the pictures, hanging on the wall. It seemed to be very old, and very valuable. She slid her finger on the golden frame. The picture was a portrait of a man, holding a sword.

"He looks brave, doesn't he?"

Linnea jumped backwards, noticing a boy, sitting in the corner by a window. The girl nodded in agreement, turning the other way to leave him. "You know," the boy said, taking a pause as he seemed to concentrate, while looking out of the window. "There's a fire out there, in the stable."

"I know," Linnea replied proudly. At first she wanted to tell this boy everything she knew, and that she had been out there, where the flames were. But then she remembered, she didn't know this boy. In fact, she had never seen him before.

The boy introduced himself, showing his teeth. Two of them seemed, strangely but true, to look like tusks, both in his bottom jaw. Linnea swallowed, still looking at him, and then she paced over to the window herself and settled in the chair ahead of the boy. His big round eyes followed her, as she moved, but she ignored them and stared out of the window.

Madi, she thought, while introducing herself. She thought it awkward, that this boy's name was oddly familiar.

[ November 13, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]