All Hues and Honeys by Dawn Felagund

Quite Numb

Caranthir goes for a swim to ease his mind but forgets to tell his daughter Amarwen. 250 words, written for the Holiday Party prompt "Never Have I Ever"; Grundy asked if Caranthir had ever been punched by a girl.

When Caranthir dove into the lake that morning, he didn't intend to swim far. The water still moved sluggishly with the memory of ice, and he had letters to answer. And he hadn't told his daughter Amarwen he was going.

That was their agreement: If he swam more than a mile beyond the shore, he'd tell her before he went. "You did not survive calamity and war," she said, "and journey halfway around the world to die of a charlie-horse while dog-paddling about the lake." Her voice was light but her eyes as somber as the bitter waters.

But swimming did something to his mind, like an animal circling to curl warm in a nest of its own trampling. Politics, kinstrife, even worries over what to cook for dinner—none were permitted entry. His mind circled and circled and circled upon itself until he'd gone farther than he meant to and, upon surfacing and discovering this, plunged his face back into the water and went farther still.

The sun was a white light behind the winter clouds in the west when he surfaced and saw his house on the shore. No smoke unfurled from the kitchen chimney. Amarwen paced the shore but stopped when she spotted him. There was a fur cloak draped over her arms.

Wordlessly, she shook it open when he staggered onto the beach. He held out a hand. "I'm fine, quite numb actually."

She smiled kindly. "Let me help with that." And punched him in the jaw.