Painting With Numbers

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

Sunlight danced across a small lake, sending slivers of diamond bright reflections lancing below age old trees. Brief fingers of wind passed through their leaves, its cooling touch not felt by those two below on grass covered earth. Rebecca Leann snapped her wrist in a well practiced motion. In response her bright red pole flicked backwards, its long length whipping to a stop behind her, seeming to remain motionless a breath before snapping forward. A low whirring sound filled the tiny glade, drifting out over a ponds surface as it followed a day-glow orange line. Rebecca moved her thumb gently against a bright silver lever, there was a dull click and the whirr ceased. Seconds later something hit the ponds surface a dozen meters from the mouse’s position. As ripples spread out a soft plop could just be heard. Smiling in satisfaction she leaned back against an old maple tree, slowly reeling in her line.

Several meters to one side several clicks, thumps and an occasional soft curse reminded her that her best friend, Sandra Millmen, was setting up her easel. Nearly twice as large as the calmly fishing mouse, Sandra, a unicorn, was also a bit less dexterous. And a bit noisier. She nearly always had trouble with her equipment, though her larger size meant she nearly always won by brute force alone. That alone explained several repairs on the much maligned device. With a soft oath descriptive of ages past matches between the makers parent, Sandra finally stepped back from her now ready easel. Carefully she opened a carry case, removing her current work from it. Nearly finished, this painting was of the pond, and her friend fishing. With a satisfied twisting of paint splattered clamps she locked her canvas in place.

“Your scaring away my fish” Rebecca giggled, her pale tail flickering behind her as she adjusted her position a mote. “I’ll never get supper with you around.”

“So?” Sandra replied. “Unicorns don’t eat flesh, fishing isn’t my problem.” She lifted her pallette, sniffing at the colours upon it. A sharp sting of linseed oil promised still useful paints. Opening a drawer in her easel she carefully selected her first brush. “I only need to finish this for school. Where is your arts project?”

Rebecca started to answer when her line vibrated. No more than a touch, yet enough to tell her something was taking her bait. A tiny flicker of her fingers ran down her line, moving both float and attached bait just a centimeter, or two. Almost instantly her float vanished under water. Snapping back her arm the soft brown furred mouse felt her hook set. “I’m using it” she finally answered as her line started running freely.

“Using? What, your pole?” the unicorn asked with a laugh. Rebecca’s well used pole had elected dozens of jokes when they’d first run across each other. Ten years ago? The unicorn thought, trying to remember the day.

“No” Rebecca snapped, her tail absently winding about the tree behind her. Or trying too, it was much too short, the tree much too large. “My bait. I finished it last night.” She pulled up on her rod, causing its attached line to sing as it cut the water. “Professor William’s wants an art project..” She let line run freely from her reel a moment, allowing the hooked fish run a moment. “If a hand made fly isn’t art, I’ll eat it.”

Sandra made a face at the thought. “Hook yourself? No thanks” she replied. Turning back to her easel she flicked her tail aside. Her mother had more than once threatened to bob Sandra if she stained her tail with paint again. Last night she’d sat out a heavy pair of garden cutters. A warning Sandra thought. Wither or not her mother really would bob her wasn’t a worry. Sandra knew it’d never happen, for one thing it was against the law. For another, she flipped her tail idly at her thoughts, telling herself “I’ve got the prettiest tail in our family.”

“My brother thinks so too” Rebecca called, again bending her pole as she fought to land what would be her addition to her families supper.

Sandra blushed, wanting to melt into her own canvas. “You weren’t supposed to hear that” she snapped. “And stop catching fish, I need you to model not jump around like you’ve got fleas or something.” With a shrug of defeat she started working on the background of her painting. They had all day. Eventually her friend would tire and settle down. Ignoring Rebecca’s battle Sandra started dabbing paint on canvas.

True to the unicorn’s thought Rebecca finally settled down. With four large catfish strung on a gill line she carefully unclipped her hand made bait, replacing it in a tiny plastic box before she made one last cast. “You realize if I catch anything now, I’m going to make history” the mouse laughed.

“How so” Sandra asked, watching as Rebecca slipped back into their chosen pose. It amazed her how the mouse could remember her exact position from a week, even a month ago. It made using her as a model that much easier.

“No bait, no hook on my line” Rebecca answered. “I’d have to entangle it and that’s rare.”

“Well don’t” Sandra warned. “I’m painting you now. If you move without warning me it’ll mess everything up.” She started mixing light tans, working to come as close as she could to the mouse’s pale colours. If she hurried they would finish before afternoon. Lifting brush to canvas the unicorn started painting a mouse.

She’d been painting for a long time when Rebecca spoke again. “When’s Thomas due back?” Sandra looked up from her work, surprised at how far the sun had moved. She must have been working for hours, yet her friend hadn’t complained at all.

“Thomas?” She asked, thinking of her older brother. “Tomorrow’s train. He’s visiting between postings. Why?”

“Donno” Rebecca admitted. “I’ve been thinking of him lately. He’s fun to be with.”

“And ten years older, and three times your size” Sandra added. “Not to mention a different species.”

“So? Like there’s a law or something? Stretching.”

Sandra waited while Rebecca stretched, absently making mental notes of form and shape as the mouse moved, her tail twisting in ways the unicorns couldn’t possible match. “Some people think so” she admitted.

Rebecca yawned, her pale pink tongue catching a straw flicker of sunlight, another mental note for a later composition locked into Sandra’s mind. “Some people think black mice shouldn’t marry white mice. What’s so different about that? Same species, so why worry if a few more get mad about something else?” She recast her line before settling back into position. “How much longer?”

“Hour, maybe a little longer” Sandra answered. “You really do like Thomas don’t you.”

“Me... and half the females in sixty kilometers” Rebecca admitted. “Any chance I could bribe you to put in a good word?”

“What? Me? Hook my brother up with my best friend. Have him take her away to another country? Never get to just waste time with her again? Are you out of your little mind?”

“I’ll remind you of that next time your making goo-goo eyes at my brother” Rebecca answered. “Inter-species sheesh... Haven’t looked around lately have you?”

Sandra didn’t answer, she was working on the mouse’s face, a delicate bit of work she never was happy with, though others always seemed to like her results. Besides, she was getting hungry, and the conversation had somehow twisted around. Now she was the target. Mentally shaking her head at how easily Rebecca managed to trap her she finished her work. “That’s it, let it dry a bit, then we’re out of here.”

Reeling in her line Rebecca carefully repacked her own gear. “When can I see it?”

“Never!” cried Sandra in mock horror, throwing her hands up as if to block the mouse from coming closer.. “Allow anyone to see the work of a Master? Not possible.”

“That’ll really kill your grade” Rebecca laughed. “And wouldn’t that be Mistress? Not Master?”

Shrugging in defeat Sandra stepped aside. “On your own head then... Just don’t throw up on it okay? I hate fish breath.”

“I had cheese and eggs for breakfast. What’d you have... Oh my God...” Rebecca stood entranced, staring at the canvas.

“It’s not finished” Sandra admitted. “I’ve still the background, and I’m not really happy about that left foot.”

“Bull” Rebecca whispered. “No wonder people say unicorns are magic. It’s beautiful. Girl you have talent and more to spare.”

“Thanks” Sandra nearly whispered, embarrassed by her friends response. “Say Rebecca? If I promise to mention your name to Thomas... Could you help me with something? “

“Sure? What?”

Sandra lifted her tail, pointing at a long multi-colored streak along it’s length. “I just brushed across my pallette. Can you clean this off?”

Laughing Rebecca took her friends hand. “Your mom huh? Okay, there’s soap in my kit, we’ll use the pond. Just don’t step on my fish.”

“Not a problem, I don’t like fish” Sandra admitted.