Frog Meets Girl

Chapter 17--Dawn of a New Era

Hi all! This goal of finishing a whole story is teaching me a lot about myself as a writer. You know those writers who can have 8 pages of a new chapter posted every Saturday (Hope-Adon and SkyDancer, I'm talking about you), but it turns out I'm not one of them. Not at all. I'm just going to stop making excuses about why it takes so long for me to write a chapter. It just does. I think a lot, plan, calculate every word, and have limited time every day to do it. I'm sorry if this is frustrating for you. Be assured that this story will be finished, it just might take a while. (For any of those people-watching geeks, I could definitely discuss with you how this is related to my personality style in several different personality inventories...)

So, without further ado, here is the latest chapter. Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated. If you love it, share the love. :)

When she woke the next morning, she was surprised to find that several months had passed in the time she had spent moping around her rooms, and the deepest part of winter had begun to hint at leaving. Neither Acantha nor Isabella were there yet, so she left Will sleeping on her pillow as she quietly went into her dressing room alone, as she had so long before.

As she sat at her dressing table, she was startled to see the gaunt, gray face staring back at her in her mirror. Touching her cheeks with her cold fingers, she explored this face that did not look quite like hers. It was too thin and lifeless.

I look like the dead.

She studied herself, reacquainting herself with her reflection. After a few minutes Acantha entered, bustling in wearing a pale blue gown, and Isabella trailed after in a dress of gray.

Isabella also looked like a shadow. Gabby was surprised that she had not noticed before how poorly Isabella was doing. Furrowing her brow, she tried to remember the last time she’d seen Isabella eat or even smile. Any recollection eluded her, as she’d been so wrapped up in her own grief, it hadn’t occurred to her to watch another’s. Her only solid memory of Isabella at all was from the day she gotten the news.

Studying Isabella’s gray dress again, she realized that it was a dress of mourning as well, though it didn’t seem to be the deep mourning that would be expected of a family member. Did Isabella have a soldier friend who was killed? Gabby had never even thought to ask about Isabella’s life outside of the palace walls. It struck her suddenly, how unbelievably rude her behavior would look toward the one person she could possibly call a friend.

Perhaps Will was right about wallowing in grief.

Still, the thought of doing anything that day other than crying and laying in bed seemed as daunting as extricating herself from a pool of molasses. Sluggishly, she tried to summon the will to do anything. At the very least, it would be good for Isabella.

Mechanically, she allowed herself to be dressed, not caring which gown they chose. They were all black anyway. Acantha arranged her hair in rings of curls and adorned them with a simple net that would be appropriate for her stage of public mourning. Then, they led her out to the sitting room for breakfast.

The whole routine was familiar, but Gabby saw it from new eyes that morning. It was a silent dance with no eye contact, just rote movements with no expectation of input from her—as though they were caring for a statue instead of a person. In the last few months, it seemed as though she’d given up on even the basics of her own life. So much so that for her to interject with a request would be odd.

Isabella seated her in the usual chair and set a tray of bread, cheese, and fruit in front of her before retreating quietly to one of the couches. Not a word or even a glance in Gabby’s direction.