Helen liked flowers. She’d liked them for as long as she could remember. But then again, who doesn’t like flowers?
She was trying her best to cheer her friends up with flowers. Richard always looked so sad or angry anyway, so that’s why she’d started with him.
She was glad he didn’t throw the flower away. That would’ve hurt her feelings. Although, now that she thought of it, he didn’t usually try to hurt her feelings.
Except for the time he pushed past her the other day. Or when they first met and he kept wrinkling his nose. Yeah, that hurt more than the time a hundred bees stung her when she tried to get honey from a beehive.
But after she’d saved him from the goblins he seemed…nicer.
She walked up to Peter after finding an orange tiger lily.
“Here you go,” she said, giving him the flower, “it’s your favorite color.”
Peter looked at the flower and smiled, “Gee thanks, Helly, you’re so sweet.”
When she walked away she didn’t see the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes because he hadn’t been given a gift in a very long time.
She walked up to Alice after finding a yellow poppy. She knew Alice loved yellow and said something about poppies, so thought she’d like it. Alice immediately teared up and said, “This was my mother’s favorite flower.” and pulled Helen into a hug.
Helen had no idea how much she meant to this group and how much they cared about her. They’d only known each other for a few days, but Helen was the sweetest out of all of them and knew how to make someone smile.
Helen gave Skylar a stem of lilacs, (which she didn’t know was a gift Skylar’s father would give her every year for her birthday) and Luke a sky blue hyacinth, (which his mother usually had somewhere in the kitchen and made Luke homesick).
She didn’t know it but felt guided to every flower she gave to her friends.
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Finally, they made it to their destination.
“This old shack?” Richard asked as he plugged his nose. The scent that came from the house was a mixture of rotten wood, mouse droppings, and spoiled milk. How these three scents mixed into one, no one could tell.
Skylar coughed a little and Alice raised her poppy to her nose. Everyone else followed suit, finding the scent of their flowers drowned out the scent of the cottage.
“Peter, are you sure about this?” Luke asked uncertainly.
“I’m sure,” Peter said, looking at the falling-down house with a look of determination. “And don’t worry,” he said, “you get used to the smell.”
“Used to it?” Skylar asked, looking at Peter with a raised eyebrow, the lilacs still pressed to her nose.
Peter didn’t answer and instead knocked on the door.
There was a crash inside the house as it sounded like someone came in a rush from the second floor, and bounded down the stairs to the first floor, crashing into things on the way.
They heard about twenty locks coming unlocked and the front door opened a little bit, stopped by a small chain.
An old man looked through the crack between the door and the wall and stared at them with his light blue eye.
“Who is it?” he asked, paranoia clear in his voice.
“Peter Webster, an old family-” Peter started, but the old man quickly undid the chain and opened the door. He yelled, “Peter!” as he wrapped Peter in a bear hug.
“Can’t. Breathe,” Peter stuttered out, and the old man let go of the hug.
“My my,” the old man let out a low whistle, looking Peter up and down, “I almos’ di’nt recognize ya, ya’ve grown up.”
“Thanks, Old Joe,” Peter said, his face almost as red as his hair.
Old Joe now looked at the rest of the kids, taking them in. “Who’re these?” he asked. Helen felt like he was sizing each of them up.
“My friends,” Peter said, waving to each one and saying their names.
Finally, Peter looked at Old Joe and said, “We need your help.”
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After Old Joe had let them in and locked the twenty locks on his front door, he let the ladies sit on the rickety furniture at his mismatched table. Skylar’s chair had three legs but miraculously, she didn’t fall off.
The boys, meanwhile, sat on the cold stone floor near the fireplace, where Old Joe had started a fire.
Old Joe was now making them cabbage and carrot soup, much to the complaint of Richard and the delight of Alice, glad it was a vegetarian meal.
“Old Joe?” Peter said, looking at the old man as his white beard almost fell into the soup.
“Yes?” Old Joe practically yelled. When they walked inside, Peter whispered to the group to speak up when talking to Old Joe, who was hard of hearing.
Peter picked at his fingernails as he asked the next part, “Do you know anything about a quest of six kids?”
At this, Old Joe stopped and dropped his ladle in the soup.
Old Joe turned around and said in a quiet voice, “So you know, then?” It sounded like he was talking more to himself than to Peter.
Helen sat there and looked at this man. At the mention of the quest, he immediately turned his attention and changed his attitude in seconds.
“Do ya know the prophecy?” he asked, looking at each kid individually.
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“Den ya gotta know da prophecy!” Old Joe yelled, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. He went back to making the soup, muttering something about educating kids.
“Please sir,” Helen said, trying to be polite, “if you would mind sharing it with us?”
Old Joe regarded her, his pale blue eyes looking at her skinny frame and kind eyes.
He sighed, then said, “Fine, da prophecy goes like dis:
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It is foretold,
that 6 children of 12 years old,
shall come to the forsaken kingdom to claim,
the prize that must not be named,
and so on the 21st of December,
shall these heroes soon remember,
that the curse will be gone,
and the quest, won.”
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There was a moment of silence, as everyone thought of the words in the prophecy.
It was as if everyone knew how heavy these words were, sealing their fate.
They were on a quest, they had to follow the prophecy…
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