The boy that came by ('Eugene' he says was his name) wore a large satchel that fell from his waist to his hip. Usually, he carried it across his shoulder, but today he decided to let it down. The strap was knotted crudely to fit his height. It was a grown-up's satchel no doubt. One night she decided to ask him about it.
"I was born with it." He shrugged, casting his eye down. "It's no big deal."
She knew well enough that children don't come into the world with large, leather satchels. But there was something about his small, instinctive lip-nibbling that made her feel it wasn't okay to press on.
She showed him a small display of new tricks she'd been practicing earlier. His eyes wore the same wide-eyed wonder as before, though Elsa could notice the thin, trembling in his cheeks when he'd stretch a smile too long.
Once the night ended, he'd slip off into the dark and Elsa would close the doors of the Grand Hall before she could see where he disappeared off too. Tonight, Eugene slung his bag over his shoulder, and Elsa could've sworn she heard something heavy move inside. She looked back to check but he was already gone. Strange... he doesn't usually carry anything in his satchel. Maybe she was just sleepy.
Elsa closed the door, and slipped back inside the covers of her bed. Sleep came quickly and soon she was lost in dreams of jumping sheep and waterfalls of chocolate fondeu.
