Forlorn Ecstasy.

Long years ago, before the war, when the nights eked slowly for little Betty Calcious and the days seemed to move on speedily. Sitting on her favourite spot close to the window, Zoning out from whatever it was the Arithmetic mistress was saying before the other pupils, she stared out into the compound of the monastery as the little snowflakes hit at master Gary, the monk and the owner of the daily Daisy bakery, mister Rolland as he preferred being referred to as.

 Her gaze followed the duo as they walked under the mimosa tree that had most of the leaves falling to the ground as it got accustomed to the winter period. on to the gravelled walkway leading to the Chapel, discussing.

Gary was the monk who'd officiated in the burial of her father, king Jonah a fortnight ago.

Vividly recalling his recitations which always played in her head, most night before she slept. "To dust we belong, to ashes we belong and to earth we also belong."

Betty had been brought forward, together with her brother Edmund, where they'd put some earth into their little palms. Queen Calcious had told her what to do.

"Dust to dust." The monk had declared; the Queen urged her to throw a little earth onto the coffin, she and her brother followed suite.

Her mind came back to the present when the pendulums in the grandfather clock began to hit at each other. The sound irritated her, her eyes moved around the class as if Thomas would miraculously appear on his favourite seat where Red haired Lily Faulkner had finally taken over from. She missed him.

It still seemed foreign to her that she wouldn't be seeing him in classes any longer or even his siblings, Joseph and Anna, and also any of his cousins especially Cassandra, who'd promised to teach her how to make her own scrunchies.

Seeming indifferent to this cause had greatly pleased her mother, so she'd kept on acting that way. Today they had agreed to meet at one of the crumbling gardeners cottages, a stone throw from the monastic School and she contemplated sneaking off before the next lesson and coming back in time before it would be the Schools closing time. Thomas had promised to give them lessons on how to make bows by themselves.

The arithmetic Mistress exited the class and Betty took it as her cue to leave too, wearing her bonnet over her head and carefully arranging her earmuffs and muffler, she stood up from the little desk.

"Of to where, Bet?" The high pitched voice of Mackenzie from the back made Betty the center of attention as she sniffed delicately as usual. "Miss Carrington only went out to get more chalks, said we should all remain here, she's gonna be back soon."

Betty had thought that the class was over but didn't also mind if it wasn't either she still proceeded to leave. "Wanna use the restroom, I'm pressed."

"You'd have to ask Miss Carrington for permission, she would be back soon." Mackenzie continued in her usual bossy tone.

Betty stared at the seven year old Brunette, and the near to nothing brows left on her face furrowed into a deep scowl.

"Just mind your business, will you, Mackenzie?." Came her rejoinder as she started for the door, nearly running into Miss Carrington at the entrance.

"Where are you off to, Betty?"

She looked up at the bulky eyes of the mistress before her, mouth set to give her explanation.

"Go sit, I'll soon be done with the class." She wasn't obliged an opportunity to talk.

"But I'm pressed," her voice was tight.

"I don't want you or anyone to miss out on this, I promise I'll soon be done."

"Okay." She walked back to her seat in resignation, holding back her rage at the triumphant look Mackenzie threw her.

Patience, patience. She tried to calm herself, beating her feet in a rythmic manner on the wooden floor.

Her gaze wandered to the window again, the buds were not popping on the trees no more, snow and ice running down the branches as the world thawed. The songbirds had returned, their melodious din making her long for the outdoors, instead of this stuffy class.

She watched miss Carrington wipe off a side of the board and continue with her lesson with gusto. In a forlorn manner, she looked out of the windows at the interior school where the boys that were groomed to be Priests and monks inhabited. What went through the seven year old mind of Betty was, she wishing that she possessed some kind of power, a real power to such a degree, that she would be able to escape situations and gallows like this.

"Betty!"

She almost had a whiplash from the way she turned at the sound of her mistress' voice. "Does this look accurate?" She questioned.

  The stare of the seven year old went to the Numerals on the board. She hated numbers, would rather prefer to climb trees at the orchard with Edmund than come for arithmetic classes.

"Err__" she squinted her eyes at the board in pretense concentration, gingeringly nodding her head.

Miss Carrington shook her head in disapproval. "You're wrong Betty. I guess you've not been listening." She frowned at the little girl deepening the worry lines written on her forehead.

"I want to use the toilet." She spoke in a voice akin to pleading. 

"You're free to go, but be back on time." 

"Thank you, miss." She nearly trotted out of the class, forgetting to make the funny face she had in mind for Mackenzie before leaving.

All that was in her mind was that, she hoped Thomas and the rest had not waited for her and finally given up hope that she was going to show up with all the time she'd spent already.

Making sure to avoid the panelled hallways, the snow fell on her and the Swift breeze hit her immediately she stepped out of Shelter, she'd left her earmuffs and bonnet on her desk, where she'd pulled them off in initial anger. But was still determined to go regardless.

Using the back route, where they'd introduced her to take while sneaking off, when they all were still around, she sneaked her way out of the building.

With the muster of this place, it was more tents and wagons ringed all around than buildings of woods within.

She hid her small body behind a huge pillar as she waited for a calvacade to move past.

Churning the snowy grounds to wet mud with the foot of their wheels and prancing horses.

She released her breath when they'd finally moved farther off, taking one last careful look around she took off into the path that led to the abandoned cottages, her boot making squishy sounds on the wet floor. The scent of baked muffins filling her nostrils as she garnered that she was behind the bakery.

She sighted the cottage, which was of rough logs, from between which the chinking has long fallen. Square with a broken roof set at a single pitch, it leaned in empty and forlorn dilapidation under the falling snows, a single broad window in two opposite walls giving on to the approaches of the path which on a normal day was covered in water, but now was frozen.

Warnings about stepping on frozen surfaces ringed in her memory but, she threw it off.

The water's not a really deep one after all.

And she gingeringly took a step on it.