Chapter 2 - Lia

Morning crept over the horizon, above the trees, and in through the east-facing windows of a small house in the village of Rapoville.

The sunlight illuminated the chaotic scene: three shadowy forms asleep around the room, papers all over the floor, many splashed with black ink from a leaky pen which was now dripping steadily onto the floor, held loosely in the limp fingers of a Raposa with silver hair asleep at the table in the middle of the room with his face in a leather-bound book.

He woke up and stretched. Some of last nights frustration lingering, mixed with his exhaustion. He got to his feet with the idea of going out to the fountain and sticking his head under the water. Then maybe he would stop at Cookie's for a banya muffin and some coffee.

He was at the door when he realized the shadow monsters had all woken when he had and were all watching him. Pathetic inky things, really. He shook his head, annoyed. Why wouldn't it work?

“You'll all stay here,” he said. “Don't move and don't be seen!” For secrecy's sake, he closed the shutters and pulled the blinds down. Then he closed the door, locked it, and staggered off to the fountain.

Before it came into sight around the trees, he could hear someone singing. He raised his head slightly, and felt a slow smile cross his face. Once he was clear of the trees, he could see Lia sitting on the fountain's edge, twirling a flower between her fingers and looking off into space.

“Morning, Lia,” he called, and winced, as much from the hoarse sound of his voice as from the pain of talking.

She met his eyes and smiled. “Good morning, Wilfre. Are you alright?”

He nodded and sat down beside her. “Just need a drink, 's all,” he croaked, and scooped up water with his hands. He took a few sips and shivered. “That's better.” It was.

She tilted her head, mischief in her eyes. “You've got something on your face.”

“What?”

Lia touched her cheek. “Something on your face, I said.”

“What could I have on--” he began, and reached up to feel his own cheek. His fingers came away black with ink. He cursed through his teeth.

“You should watch your language around a lady,” she teased.

He bit his tongue to refrain from swearing again.

“Fall asleep at your desk last night?” she asked. He nodded. “You've got to give yourself a break. It is possible to work yourself to death, you know.”

He laughed. “Writing random notes that mean nothing? Sketching pointless drawings? Getting ink all over the floor because my pen leaks? I'm hardly doing much hard work, Lia!”

“Just remember even genius Raposa need to sleep sometimes,” she said, beaming at him.

He laughed and knelt on the ground to put his head under the fountain. Over its splashing he could hear Lia singing softly again. He emerged, dripping, and took a few steps back before shaking his head like a dog to get the water out of his hair.

“Not everyone likes to get wet just because you need to wake up, Wilfre,” said a voice from behind him. He turned to see a younger Rapo cleaning the water from his glasses.

“Not everyone likes it when the terrible Raponerd interrupts their conversations,” he retorted. “Get out, Isaac.”

“Wilfre!” said Lia. “That's mean!”

“He doesn't have the right to just butt into everyone else's conversations--”

“He wasn't butting in, he was just coming over here! Honestly, just because you're important, you think you control the world! Come on, Isaac, ignore him, he's just annoyed that there's someone in this village who doesn't hang on his every word and action.” He began walking away, but he heard her call, “Someone with some sense, unlike every other adoring, empty-headed Rapo here!”

“I don't think I control the world,” he said, frustrated. “Not yet. But I will!” He turned and shouted, “I will, you hear me?”

There was no reply, and he turned and stormed into Cookie's restaurant.

“Mornin', Wilfre!” called Farmer Brown as he stalked in the door.

“'Spect it'll be the usual?” asked Cookie's assistant.

“Morning,” he said gloomily. “Yeah, thanks,” he added to the Rapogirl, who scurried to get his muffin and coffee.

“What's wrong?” asked Mayor Carmichael as he sat down. “Did you spend all night working on something or other again?”

“No, but only because I fell asleep on a book,” he sighed.

“I'll get it,” said the mayor's wife, Teri, and handed Cookie's assistant a few Rapotokens as the girl delivered the order.

“Thanks, Teri,” he mumbled. He had a sip of coffee and a bite of his muffin, then put his head on his arms and sighed dramatically.

“Come on,” said Chief Cricket, taking a seat beside him. “What's wrong, Silver?”

“Only,” he sighed, then drew a huge breath before finishing, even more dramatically, “Lia.”

Everyone winced and flinched away from him. “Did she turn you down again, son?” Farmer Brown asked sympathetically.

“It's alright, I'm safe,” he said. He understood why they'd drawn back—he'd been known to strike out at anything on previous similar occasions.

“So what happened?” asked the mayor. “Another rejection?”

“Not exactly,” he sighed. “I didn't get the chance to reach that point. Guess who interrupted us? None other than...Isaac.” He sighed. “It was going so well, too.”

"Isaac?" The mayor frowned. "I know Isaac. He's a nice young man. A good Rapo. What did he do to annoy you so much?"

"We were just sitting by the fountain, having a nice little chat--Lia and I, I mean, of course. And then he came stalking over in a terrible temper."

“And?”

“I told him we were having a private conversation and could he wait, please, and of course, no, Lia invited him over, and—to add insult to injury—ridiculed me!”

“Oh, Silver,” said Cricket, sympathetically. “Don't worry about her. She's stubborn, but she's no fool.”

“She'll see sense someday soon,” added the inventor, Jonah.

“At this rate, it'll be Isaac who gets her!” he moaned, getting to his feet. “She scorns me, as does he! I'm a disgrace! A failure!” He slumped against the table and hung his head.

The mayor put a hand on his shoulder. “Don't give up, Wilfre. I'm sure she'll fall for you in the end.”

“Rapo, I hope so,” he sighed.

Galileo turned and said, wisely, “Talk to her at night. It is the most romantic time, you know.”

“You would say that,” he laughed. Then he sighed again. “Anyways, I'm always busy at night!”

He then turned to his coffee and muffin and proceeded to ignore the rest of Cookie's customers until he'd finished, then returned home to get back to work.

There was a knock on the door.

“Who's there?” he called, intent on his drawing.

“It's Carmichael. May I come in?”

“Oh—no, it's a mess—I'm so busy, I haven't had time to tidy up in here, you can hardly walk, please don't come in, Mayor--”

“Alright, alright, I won't,” laughed the voice outside the door. “What are you working so hard on?”

“I can't say,” he said. “It's a secret project.”

“I see,” said the mayor. “I imagine you'll reveal it when you think it's time--”

“Mayor! Mayor Carmichael! Mayor!”

“Cricket?”

“Get Silver! Get everyone! But first you have to come see, Mayor, hurry, you'll have to come quickly! It's a disaster! It's a tragedy!”

“What is it, Cricket? What's happened?”

He stiffened. His muscles tensed. He knew what was coming.

“The Book! The Book of Life! It's gone missing!”

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