Linsan bounced on the couch. With a flip of her green skirt, she did a somersault along the cushions before flopping again opposite arm. The couch creaked from the impact but she didn't care. With a grin, she pushed herself over the edge until her head dangled over the blue and white patterned rub glow.
In her mind's eye, she saw white snakes crawling around the blue waters and slowly reached out to catch one of them before it escape.
Her fingers bumped against the short hairs of the rug. Stretching further along the arm of the couch, she tried to grab another.
"Are you still alive over there?"
She peeked up past the back of the couch and into her father's brightly-lit work room. He sat at his customary chair behind a heavy wooden table while peering down at the dissembled parts of his latest work. His glasses shone from the top of his head; he always put them up to his forehead whenever he worked on small details.
Linsan took a deep breath, taking in the smells of sawdust and stain. It was a comforting smell, like the flowers in her mother's pillows and the little bottle of perfume her parents saved for special occasions.
"Did you die?" he asked.
She giggled. "No! I'm right here!"
"You weren't crashing around. I wasn't sure."
She rolled her eyes and rolled up the arm of the couch and over the back until she was bent over it. One bare foot toyed with the edge of the couch cushion as she watched her father pull out one of his delicate carving tools and held it over the wood.
Lifting her other foot, she waved it. "See? I'm not dead!"
"Oh, good, I was worried there for a moment," he said with a smile. His eyes never left the wood as he carved out a little curl of red. His fingers flexed for a moment before he carved out another curl to match the other. Each one was smaller than the ridge of her fingernail.
He paused for a moment before he wiped the side of his cheek. Sawdust clung to his beard but quickly disappeared among the auburn and white streaks.
"What are you working on, Daddy?"
"Just a special violin for an old friend."
"Why?"
"Because she's getting married to the love of her life."
"Why?" Linsan kicked her feet and stretched out to grab a pillow.
His smile grew broader. "Because she found someone wonderful."
She grinned. "Why?"
"Because if I don't finish this, I'm going to have to eat you."
Rolling over, she shook her head. "No, you aren't going to eat me! Mommy would yell at you. And then you'll get spanked."
Her father had to lift his carving tool as he snorted with amusement. The tip glinted in the lights as it quivered.
From behind her, her mother spoke up. "Why am I yelling at Daddy?"
Linsan spun around. "Mommy!"
She launched herself off the couch, her bare feet hitting the rug before she remembered the imaginary snakes. With a shriek, she stumbled forward. "Snakes!"
Her mother dropped the cloth bags in her hand and caught her.
Linsan pressed her cheek against her mother's. "There are snakes in the rug," she whispered.
"Oh no, did Daddy get rid of them?"
"He's working in Palisis."
Her mother frowned as she knelt down. "Palisis? Who's that?" Her head looked up as her loose curls roll off her shoulder. "Who is Palisis?"
From the other room, her father grunted.
Linsan beamed. "I named his violin. It looked like a Palisis."
There was a brief silence.
"That's a pretty good name, I like it."
Her mother nodded. Then she reached down to hug Linsan tightly. "Good job. But we still have to deal with the snakes?"
Her attention drawn back to the rug, she pointed at the blue patterns. "They are blue and poisonous and they bite you if you step on them."
"But did you know, snakes can't hurt you if you're dancing?" Without waiting for a response, she took Linsan's hands and drew her around in a circle. "Now, imagine daddy is playing music and you are moving in time."
Linsan beamed as she imagined a cheerful tune. She jumped and spun in time with it. Encouraged by her mother's laughter, she got more wild as she spun and twirled around.
There was the brief hum of a fiddle and then a cheery jig filled the room. Linsan peered over the couch to see that her father had abandoned his work and picked up Katsaril, an old fiddle Linsan had named when she was three.
Her mother pulled Linsan around, spinning her as Linsan happily bounced and danced the snakes away.
