Behind the Ashes: An Account of Prince Charming
an excerpt

“Meja, take his memory now,” she says. Meja is pointing something at me. Hhhh, what’s going on? Everything is going away. It’s dark now. Is this how I’m to forget everything? But I still remember what happened. So what . . . where am I? It is extremely warm out and it’s dark around me. Are those trees? I’ve never seen so many together before. Wow! What is that sound. It sound like a wolf-cat. Eyes! Run, Chan, run! Where have they taken me? What is going on?
“Ah!!!” I have been pounced on. It’s going to eat me. “Please don’t eat me.” Why do I have to whine like a baby? Even in the face of danger. With my face pressed into the dirt
“Don’t worry, I’ve stopped eating males,” say an accented woman’s voice. Then I’m flipped over onto my back like the speed of nothing I’ve heard of. The woman press her foot into my chest.
“What are you doing here in my jungle?” she says. Her breath is on me, it smells hot and ambrosial. Her eyes are bright and filled with suspicion. I can’t see much else, it’s to dark.
“Would you kindly remove your foot from my chest? You are standing on a prince,” I inform her. She gives me a too sweet smile.
“I’ll kindly remove something if you don’t tell me why you’re here,” she says. I glare at her.
“For you’re information, I have no idea why I’m here. I’m suppose to be in Ireadon, but this is obviously not Ireadon,” I say. She finally gets off my chest.
“Ireadon? That’s fifty thousand miles away,” she says in surprise. She looks me up and down. “You sure look Ireadi in that stupid shirt. What is it made out of anyway?”
“Ox hair, it’s cold in Ireadon this time of year,” I tell her. “And why does it matter to you?”
“No wonder you sweating profusely. Take that stupid thing off,” she says ignoring my question. I do it, but not because you told me to, heavens no. It is odd to have my chest bare, but I feel so much better.
“So where am I?” I ask her.
“You don’t know? Haven’t they taught you geography in Ireadon?” she asks. I never paid much attention in the lesson.
“I don’t need geography,” I say. She raises her eyes.
“Well then, in that case,’ and she flaunts off. Rrrr.
“Wait, your going to just leave me here?” I ask.
“Only if you don’t follow,” she said. Then she looks at me with mock surprise. “And wha’doya know, you’re following me.” Then she continued on her way.
“What was that wolf-cat sound back there?” I ask. She laughs.
“Me, I’ve never had someone run so fast as you,” she says. I scowl and she laughs harder. I would be happy to live my life without humiliation from this moment on.
“And what are you called?” I ask. I’d like to change the subject now.
“I am called many things,” she said, her smile is smug again. I roll my eyes.
“Fine, what do you like to be called?’ I ask. She turns and walks backwards, eyes dancing.
“I like to be called, the clever huntress extraordinare. Or the rain that washed over me, or the prey that hunted me. But most people just call me Baineann,” she says and comes to rest against a tree. She grins and starts climbing, climbing like I’ve seen no one climb before. It seemed effortless.
“What are you doing?” I call. She stops and looks down with a grin.
“Why, I’m going home. Are you coming or are you going to wait in the forest to eat eaten by an animal. And as I witnessed earlier, you don’t like that idea to well.” She giggles down at me. I know that she’s making fun of me. I don’t like it.
“How am I suppose to follow, I don’t even know how to climb!” I fume.
“Don’t know how to climb?” she says in shock. She lets go of the tree, falling and catching a tree branch. Swinging sideways she let herself fall again. Swing catch fall, swing catch fall. Then thunk, landing in a crouch at my feet.
“Ow, doesn’t that hurt?” I ask. She smiles.
“Not when you’ve done it as long as I have,” she says. Standing right next to me, she is an inch taller then me. Her limbs are long and thin, making her look even taller. Her hair reaches her waist. But she is still as a shadow to me.
“Climbing is easy. You come to a tree and feel for a good hold and pull yourself up,” Baineann says. Then she demonstrates with her long limbs. She makes a few strides up the tree like a spider-girl. Then she looks down and waits for me. Well if she can do it, then surely I can. I grabbed the tree and pull myself up.
“ Ah,” I’m falling. “Ah,” the bark on the tree scraped my arms. And she laughs at me and disappears into the treetops. So she’s had her little fun and is going to desert now. Well fine, I’ll just . . . What the. . . ? Something is lowering from the trees, it looks like a huge basket. It’s going to fall on me, is she going to kill me after all? I roll away. Then the box lands on the ground by me. I blink and stand up.
“Get in the box, dummy,” she calls from above.
“And what will happen if I do?” I ask.
“Just get in the box!” I hesitate and then get in. The box starts to rise and I’m seeing the treetops. What I can see in the dark, anyways. The box stops at a platform built out of the tree, underneath a huge branch holding up the basket. Baineann is securing a crank.
“See, baskets don’t eat people,” Baineann tells me as if I believed in some none existent lore. I groan and step carefully onto the platform.
“This is built for our visit as . . . inept . . .as you,” she grinned. That’s it, I’m going to . . . Wow! There’s light all over, windows, door, buildings. I can feel her watching me stare.
“This is the home of the Harshmuckle Treetop Clan,” she says. Her voice is soft and sincere now. I turn to look at her and gasp.
“Your wearing pants,” I say.
“Yes, of course. I’m not indecent,” she says defensively.
“But girls are suppose to wear dresses and skirts,” I say. Am I the only civilized one here?
“Now how is a tree-girl suppose to climb in a skirt?” she says. I don’t have an answer. And now she’s walking to where the light if flooding the platform. Her person is presented to me from the ground up. Her pants are black and tight fitting. On her torso she’s wrapped in a tunic that looks like she’s wearing leafs around her middle. Her brown-black hair is twisted into spiraling locks that hang down to her waist. Some of them plaiting around her head into a crown like fashion. Her eyes are a pea soup green and they dance with merriment. Her long arms are hidden behind her, and she cocked her head to one side.
“Do you like it?” she asks of the tree-dwelling, I think.
“A little,” I admit. I look back at the place, wandering how they built it all up here. Then I look back at her. She smiles and turns to go.
“Come along, Chandler,” she says.
“Wait, how do you know my name,” I said.
“Oh, simple,” she smiled over her shoulder. “You are from Ireadon, you say you are the prince. That only leaves one guess. Your name is Chandler,” she starts walking to a fallen log bridge, hollowed out for use. I follow after her.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“It is my business to know who you are. I’m the Clankeeper’s daughter,” she says, crossing the bridge.
“Clankeeper?” I’ve never heard of that. I follow over the bridge.
“Think of him as a king. He keeps the clans together and solves their problems. One day I will be a Clankeeper. So I need to know all the names of the other rulers, don’t I?”
“So you’re a princess,” she doesn’t seem like a princess to me. Princess are suppose to be fragile and docile. Her arms are as muscular as a horse and her thighs are round. And I’ve already found out how quick she is.
“In a manner of speaking,” she laughs. “You sound so surprised. What? Do I not fit your definition?” She doing that walking backwards thing again.
“No,” I tell her simply. Why lie? And she doesn’t seem offended anyways. She sighs and says.
“Ah well, can’t please everyone.” Then she turns around and enters the tree dwelling.