Ol' Flint the Crow

Music and Emotions

"Flint!" screamed Samuel as he trudged over piles of snow which reached all the way to the tops of his shoes. "Bleak! Where are you two?!"

The minstrel's hair was dripping snowflakes, and even his eyelashes had collected a few icy particles. While he wiped his face with the steadily damping blanket, a sizzling sensation began to burn the left side of his chest. His heart was beating uncontrollably as his feet started to cramp up from the cold. The thumping inside of him increased causing Samuel to forget how cold he was. All he could feel was the pain in his chest.

Just then, the minstrel almost fell backwards when he felt as if a two-hundred-pound mule had kicked him directly in the chest. He clasped his collar as he was stricken with a coughing fit. Covering his mouth with the blanket, Samuel could taste a metallic substance on his tongue that made him gag horribly. Removing the blanket, he saw that the wool was dripping blood, which froze from the cold.

As his head spun around in delirium, the flute player knew that he needed to find shelter quickly. Marching over the crunchy snow, Samuel desperately fought his way through the strong blizzard pushing him about the wood. Before his legs became too chilled to move, the pleasant sight of a nearby cave lifted his spirits. He pounded his chest a few times in the attempt to stop the heartache worm from causing him to pass out, and then Samuel marched through the snow and into the small cavern entrance.

Being a rather deep and spacious shelter, Samuel exhaled in relief as he listened to the wind moaning outside. The minstrel waited for his heart to steady while he looked at his surrounding intently. It was dark as the throat of giant sea monster and had a humid stench to match.

There were frost bitten roots of a tree hanging from the roof of the cave which tickled Samuel's ears as he pushed them away. Digging his shoes into the ground, the minstrel noticed that not a drop of snow lay anywhere in the cavern, meaning that he would at least have a dry place to spend the rest of the night.

Now that the beating of his heart was at a calmer tempo, Samuel proceeded to examine the supplies in his bag. Digging through the contents, he brought out a small tinderbox containing a horseshoe shaped piece of steel and a large lump of flint. All the flute player needed now was some wood for burning.

Feeling the dangling roots with his frozen hands, Samuel pressed hard to see if any moister was left in them. Thankfully they were as dry as bones and broke easily in his fingers. The crisp striking sound the flint and steel made brought a smile across the minstrel's stiff face as he watched the wood burn, illuminating the cave's expansive interior.

"Thank the gods!" Samuel cheered as he huddled next to the fire with his arms extended above the hot sparks popping from the ignited roots.

Tying his blanket to the few remaining roots above his head, the delighted minstrel shook out his soaking wet hair and his dap clothes. Placing every individual item from the bag in front of the fire, Samuel gazed at the gold handled sword, which belonged to Willard the Duke. It glimmered eerily in the flashing light making Samuel frown and look away. The minstrel quickly turned to the other noble's, John, enchanted journal. It was still soggy from the snow which had managed to get into the supply bag.

Flipping carefully through the wet pages as he chewed on some dried fruit and meat he found in the backpack, Samuel read Tabitha's hateful words she had written to Flint. 'Anywhere you go, I will hunt for you,' the minstrel read as his face scrunched up in pity.

Skipping to the end of the book, Samuel realized that there were a lot of unused, blank pages. His mind thought about how much of a waist of paper they were while he involuntarily pulled a single sheet of paper from the notebook. It made a satisfying peeling sound that caused Samuel's eyes to brighten as his imagination began to spark. He knew that once ripped from the journal, that page was rendered null and void of its enchantment. It was an ordinary blank page that he could use to write without anyone knowing.