one of many crests

a boy and his king

One day the king was walking through a meadow when a young boy sprang from no where, appearing at his side. the king continued walking, the boy keeping step, and asked “Boy, how do you know me? Why do you walk by my side?” The boy pushed through the tall grass and thought for a moment. They passed a long stick and the boy swooped it up and began swinging it like a sword. “Perhaps I know you from some other time, before now, a time that you forget, when I was small and you were smaller, too.” the boy replied.

“Do you forget it?” the king asked, noticing a large ladybug weighing down a long blade of yellow grass.

“Maybe I do, but maybe I know you better than you know yourself! I know I am not from after, so I must be from before.” The boy nodded and swung the stick high in the air and thrusted forward with a twist.

“I would never have thought of that,” the king replied, “you most certainly know more about me than I know about myself.” reaching the end of the meadow, he tossed the stick into the bushes and walked into the trees.

***

One evening, while the king was bathing by a spring, a boy sprang from nowhere and appeared atop a rock at the edge of the pool. “Boy,” the king asked, “Why do you call me a king?” The boy piped up quickly, not tearing his attention away from the flower petals cupped in his hand “I do not call you a king, I call you King!”

“But why? Who’s king am I?”

Now the boy looked up and laughed, “King! You are my King!” he said and tossed his fistful of petals in the air. They fell into his hair and his lap.

the king laughed too and followed suit, tossing a splash of hot water onto the bare, mossy rock.

***

One midnight as the king watched a bear from high up in a tree, a boy sprang out of no where and appeared on a branch above him. “Boy?” the man asked. “Yes, King?” the boy answered. “Do you see how the bear inspects the tree?” the king wondered, “does he search for a hive of bees and their honey?”

The boy, watching the bear with a great smile, responded, “The bear does not move, he waits, and he will die waiting.” The king looked up at the boy to find him sticking out his tongue at the dead bear. “We can mock those bears who wait for death,” the boy teased, eyes crossed.

“Then will they not mock us, too?” the king asked.

The boy fell still. “No, King.” he said, his voice hard, “They will cry for us.”

Within moments, the bear had walked into the brush, leaving the king alone to sleep.