What's in a Name

From Reydala

Current revision as of 03:35, 11 February 2007

What's in a Name?

It was a lovely afternoon out. The freshly-fallen snow gleamed upon the tree branches, sparkled on the ground as it caught the sun’s rays, and – in a nutshell – caused the whole world to glow with a soft aura. For the young girl, it was an incredible sight – the first time she had ever seen it… barring the time spent as an infant, of course. And even then this was an unusual snowfall, it was one far earlier than that which was expected. Regardless of timing the sight enthralled the child. She walked along the pathway in a daze as the sunlight glimmered off an innumerable number of miniscule ice crystals.

As she walked she noticed a small, light, warbling sound. Curious, the child turned her head about, searching for the source. In short order she’d found it – a duo of small brown birds on a treebranch, not fifteen feet away from her. The child smiled and watched the avians as they sang, their song growing louder and louder as the time passed. While not exactly what one would call beautiful, it nonetheless was soothing. A relaxing sound that one could loose themselves in…

“Charlotte?”

Of course, such things did not last indefinatley, as the human voice ringing throughout the pathway prooved evident. The two birds darted off into the air and the child followed suit, albeit choosing instead to dart behind a tree, constrained as she was by the laws of gravity.

As she poked her head around the trunk to look at the person who’d interrupted her, a light chuckling greeted her… seconds later, accompanied by the unmistakable (and clearly amused) visage of her father.

“Sorry to scare you, Charlotte… you were watching those birds?” Charlotte nodded slowly to this, walking out from behind the tree to her father’s side and taking his hand as he started to lead them back to their home.

The man paused, thinking; “Hm. Do you know what kind of birds those were?” Again, a gesture indicating a negative response – Charlotte was clearly not exactly the most talkative of children.

“They’re called Wrens. Small little birds, but despite their size, they sing so loudly and clearly… and dart away at the first sign of a person, to boot!” The father laughed, amused. “That last part reminds me of you, a bit. A little Wren.” He ruffled his daughter’s hair at this, smiling.

Charlotte paused, seeming to mull it over in her head. A smile slowly crept across her face and she impulsively hugged her father, beaming, clearly enjoying the comparison.

“Wren.”