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I turn to see a little boy standing in the center of the room. He’s sopping wet and he’s dripping everywhere.
“Why couldn’t I see you?” I ask.
He pulls out an amulet from his shirt and points to it, but says nothing. Ah, so he bears an amulet like the one that is – hopefully – protecting Rose right now.
But why is he here?
Who is he?
“Do you have a sister?” The boy asks.
“Yes,” I say slowly, confused. Perhaps I should lie to him and demand an answer as to why he’s here. Maybe I should make him explain himself or why he’s come to my home, but I won’t because I’m curious.
“Is she called Tulip?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he says. “Rose sent me.”
“Rose? Is she all right?” I rush to the boy and grab his shoulders. Urgently, I search his eyes, looking for answers.
“Well,” he says, and he looks away.
“What’s happened to her?”
I need to know.
I need to know why she sent this child here and, more importantly, I need to know where she’s gone. Why did she send the kid? Why didn’t she come back herself?
“I can’t say for sure,” the boy says. “But the King’s advisor has made his move. He stole the wizard who looks after me: the Wizard of Dark Falls.”
“A man stole the wizard?”
“Yes, and he’s planning to overthrow the kingdom,” the boy says. He speaks very matter-of-factly, as though he’s reading from a textbook and not expressing himself. What a strange little boy. Perhaps I should think of him as a little man, because that’s kind of what he acts like.
“So where is Rose?”
“She went to save the wizard,” the boy says. “And she sent me here.”
“Why?” I whisper. I don’t want to dare to hope that he’s got something that could save my sister. My hopes have risen and fallen so many times lately that I feel like my entire heart is going to explode if I get one more disappointing piece of news.
“Because,” the boy pulls a little vial out and holds it out to me. “I have this. It’s the last one in Dark Falls, miss. I want Tulip to have it.”
She’s saved.
My sister is saved.
The tears start falling freely as I grab the bottle, rush into Tulip’s room, and give my sister the potion.
She’s going to be okay and it’s all thanks to a brave little boy.
It’s all thanks to the child.
HOURS LATER, TULIP seems to have made a remarkable recovery. She’s still a little weak, but she’s actually sitting up in bed, and the little boy – whose name, I now know, is Greg – is sitting with us in the bedroom. He explains to us how he came to meet Rose and how he ended up trekking all the way to our town to give Tulip the potion she needed to live.
“You’re quite the hero,” Tulip says, holding his hand. He smiles at her and nods. He’s proud of himself, I realize, and he ought to be. He did a good thing today. He did a brave thing. He’s a little wonder and
he deserves to know what a hero he truly is.
