Write Now! Prompt, 8 March 2013: Perils of Children

She stared at her reflection in the silver spoon, knowing that it was about to be the end of her. Gwynyth’s face stretched ominously around the curves of the spoon’s bowl, accentuated with the flecks of cereal that had not been licked away by the one holding it. At the other end of this instrument of doom was a cherubic child. The only reason Gwynyth was there in the first place was to reclaim her birthright; the clan had set her on this task, suggesting that if she killed the child and returned with some of his blood or a lock of his hair, she would be welcomed back with open arms. Sarai and the others needed proof of her loyalty and bringing back proof after killing the only son of their enemy was the way. She had crept into the dark room after he’d gone silent, his nursemaid safely down the hall; Gwynyth had figured the child had gone to sleep. However, he had been busying himself with a bowl of porridge, which she hadn’t discovered until after coming upon him. Gwynyth had been prepared to strike, having changed form prior to entering the room: He’d turned, gurgling and waving the spoon happily. Who knew her death would come at the hands of a smiling baby with a spoon for a weapon?

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