The Lark's Pearl
Prologue

Ariabella’s smile brightens the room. Her parents and her brother, Erik, sing as they bring a small cake to the table. Ariabella stares at the single candle as it flickers.

“Make a wish, sweet darling,” Mother says, kissing the side of her head.

“I do not know what to wish for,” Ariabella whispers, shaking her head.

“Wish for your innermost desire.”

The girl closes her eyes, thinking about all the things she desires. None stand out. But then she remembers a dream she had the night before.

I wish for the truest of true love.

Ariabella blows out the flame and her family cheers. Mother produces a knife and begins slicing the cake into portions. Father kisses Ariabella’s forehead.

“Feels like only yesterday, you were begging me to carry you on my shoulders,” he chuckles fondly. “Now, you are nearly all grown up.”

“Not too grown up, yet,” Ariabella replies with a smile. “I am still, and will always be, your daughter…but I do hope I can soon see the sights of the city. Am I not old enough to go?”

Her parents look at each other, then at Erik.

“You did say you would allow her to go when she was eighteen,” he says, shrugging as he bites into his portion of cake. “Father will go to trade the meats. Why not make it a family ordeal?”

“We will discuss it,” Mother replies, patting Ariabella on the shoulder.

Later, brother and sister are seated on the front porch, watching the clouds go by.

“Why do our parents always celebrate our birth at sunrise?” Ariabella asks, adjusting her skirt as she tucks her legs beneath her.

“Because all new things become new at first light,” Erik replies as he knots two strands of long, deep-green grass together. “Celebrating our birth in the early hours gives us more time to become our new selves, a year older.”

“Truly?”

“I do not know.”

The siblings meet gazes and erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Look at you,” says Ariabella, shaking her head. “Trying to seem wise.”

“I am wise,” Erik says, flicking his finger at her shoulder. “I do not claim to be omniscient, but I believe I know more than you, little sister.”

“Not that little. You are only a year older. Do you think you will marry well, Erik?”

He sighs, “I can only hope to be blessed to replace a wife who is good and loving.”

“Like our mother?”

“And as carefree and sweet as you, little sister. She will have to be if she is to get along with you.”

Ariabella smiles, “I hope you meet her soon, dear brother. She would have to be extraordinary to be a fit for you.”

She giggles when she sees her brother’s cheeks flush. Teasing him about it might embarrass him.

“I have chores in fields,” Erik says, rising to his feet. “What will you do, today?”

“I think I will go to the stream,” she replies, stretching her legs out in front of her. “It appears to be the perfect day for some sunshine.”

It is yet early morning as Ariabella dips her toes into the cool stream. She sighs, enjoying the calm waters as she settles atop a large rock. The hem of her skirt dangles, slowly absorbing the water. The sun is shining through the thick treetops, warmth covering her cheeks and shoulders.

Beyond the opposite side of the stream, Ariabella hears the mourning Doves. They sing to their mates or to the loss of a mate. She smiles as a doe and her fawn approach for a drink. The calm, delicate creatures watch her attentively. Ready to flee in the slightest danger.

Fluttering down, as light as the feathers of its wings, a lark joins Ariabella. It hops about the nearby boulder, tilting its head to one side as it stares at her.

“Hello,” she giggles, carefully tucking her legs to her chest.

The lark continues watching. Ariabella notices something in its beak. It catches the sunlight in her eye.

“What have you got there?” she asks, keeping her voice low. “I know birds love their shiny things.”

The lark chirps, dropping its prize. At first, it does not move, nor does the Lark try to pick it back up.

“I do not intend to steal your treasure,” Ariabella tells the Lark, smiling. “I know you cannot understand me, but-”

The Lark chirps and flaps its wings. It picks up the object and drops it again.

“What’s the matter, little friend?”

The Lark retrieves the item and drops it closer.

“Oh… do you mean to give it to me?”

Ariabella reaches for the pearl, pausing to see Lark’s reaction. When the little bird does not peck at her hand, she picks up the small pebble-like object. Gasping when she takes a better look at it.

“A pearl!” Ariabella turns the stone in her palm. “A true, genuine pearl. How did you come by this, little friend?”

Of course, the Lark does not answer. Chirping in delight as it flaps its wings and flies high into the trees. Ariabella calls after the little bird, knowing it will not reply nor return on command.

“How did you come by such a beautiful pearl?” she asks, holding the pinkish pearl up in the light. “And so far from the sea, too.”

“Mother, Mother!” says an excited Ariabella as she enters the kitchen. “Look what a Lark gave me!”

“A Lark?” Mother asks as she wipes her hands on her apron. “What did a Lark give you?”

“A pearl! Look how beautiful!”

Ariabella holds out her palm, showing the folded handkerchief. Mother raises an eyebrow as she takes the cloth and gentle unfolds it. She gasps and brings her hand to her heart.

“Ariabella, where did you replace this?” she whispers, taking the pearl between her two fingers and holding it up to the light.

“It is as I said,” Ariabella replies as confusion comes over her. “A Lark gave it to me. I was at the stream. He held it in his beak and dropped it next to me before flying away.”

“Do not lie to your mother. It must belong to someone important. Was there anyone else at the stream? Did you take it and steal it from them?”

“Mother,” she gasps, hurt by the words. “You and Father always taught me to never lie, to never take things which do not belong to me. I tell you the truth. A Lark gave it to me.”

Mother sighs, frowning as she tucks the pearl safely back into the cloth. She returns it to Ariabella’s hand, closing her fingers around it.

“Forgive me, daughter,” she says with a gentle smile. “I did not mean to be harsh with you. You must understand… Pearls are precious and expensive. How could-”

“Birds love shiny things,” says Ariabella, sniffling. “Perhaps the Lark took it… or found it. Whatever the case, he gave it to me.”

“Yes, he did and you should treasure it…” Mother takes the hem of her apron and wipes away the coming tears. “When I was young, my mother said Larks are a symbol of joy, hope, and laughter. This Lark has shown you kindness and brought you good fortune. Ariabella… be careful. If someone ever thought you stole the pearl-”

“Only you will know,” Ariabella cuts her off and stuffs the handkerchief into her dress pocket. “I needn’t tell anyone else if that is what you wish.”

Mother sighs, nodding. “It can be our secret, then. Go replace a safe place to keep it, so you won’t lose it.”

Ariabella nods and hurries away to her room. She closes the door and goes to her bed. At first glance, there aren’t many places to hide precious things. But then she smiles and knees down, reaching beneath the bed’s wooden frame. Feeling across the dusty, cool surface, her hand bumps a hard object. She smiles and pulls the box out into the light.

Ariabella then stuffs her hand beneath the mattress and brings out a small, brass key. She places it into the lock and turns it until she hears the soft click of metal. The lid opens a sliver. Reaching into her pocket, the girl brings out the handkerchief and carefully unfolds it. The pearls reflect the light as she takes them and places them into the smaller compartment of the lockbox.

“Safest place I have,” she whispers to herself as she closes the box and locks it.