This week, Madison Woods’ photo prompt for Friday Fictioneers sent me back to the Middle Ages for a quiet little love story, as the young people of an ordinary village scatter through the woods to gather ripe berries…
Elaine pushed into the brambles, ignoring thorns. She’d be covered with scratches when Dickon joined her, but they’d be private for once.
Her hands busily picked berries, one for her, two for the basket… The berries were sweet, sweet as Dickon’s kisses. She would feed him one and tell him so.
Somewhere nearby a girl giggled. “Nobody will see us here!” Matilda’s voice. What was she doing? Flirting with a knight? He’d desert her. Elaine peered through the branches.
Matilda. And Dickon. No!
But he was hers, Elaine’s. They were betrothed; their parents would see to that. She smiled slowly. He couldn’t escape.
Thorns raked her, unheeded.