'Well, aren’t you a sight?’ said the Lucky Clover when it saw her.
The Lucky Clover was almost as tall as the princess, with tiny eyes and a wide smile at its centre. Two large leaves functioned as arms and two flat ones served as feet, allowing it to wobble like a baby penguin. If someone had told Rebecca that she would be talking to a plant on her birthday, she would not have believed it. But by now she was beginning to understand what Grand Master #39 had said, about nothing being impossible.
‘You’ve been hurt, I see’ said the clover pointing at her hand.
‘Yes...’
‘There are some medicinal plants nearby.’
‘Where?’
‘Next to you, in fact.’
Princess Rebecca saw some small pink and purple plants right beside her hand.
‘That’s ...’
‘Lucky?’ finished the clover. ‘Just rub your hand against them and that should do the trick.’
The Lucky Clover was right. The pain disappeared the moment she touched the plants and her wounds healed as if by magic.
‘So, what brings you to my part of the garden?’ asked the clover.
‘I need your help. I must find the key that opens the door from the inside, so I can take the four charms to the Wicked Witch and save my parents and friends from becoming stones forever and ever!’
‘Hold your horses girl! I get tired just listening to you.’
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know how much time I have left. Do you know how to find the key?’
‘I do.’
‘Well, will you tell me?’
‘Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. That’s the thing with luck, you are never quite sure which way it will go.’
‘That’s incredibly rude! If you know you must tell me.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because I have to know. There are people who need me to find the charms.’
‘The key is only for the brave and clever. How do I know you are either?’
‘You don’t think I’m brave? I completed the Dangerous Path a minute ago! What else do you want?’
‘Maybe that was only, how can I put it? A lucky escape?’
‘Ha, ha, ha, very funny,’ said Rebecca crossly.
‘Ah, you are a grumpy little one, aren’t you?
Rebecca felt her face flush, her ears becoming red with anger.
‘Listen mister,’ Princess Rebecca hissed, ‘this is my birthday and so far I have been threatened by a witch, confused by a tadpole, almost fried by a thunder-bolt and sucked at by quicksand. My parents and friends are gone, I am hungry and thirsty, my dress is ruined and still have to finish my quest, so yes, I am grumpy, more than grumpy, actually, but no, I’m not a little one: I am a big, grumpy apprentice and you will help me or else!’
‘Or else what?’ hissed back the clover.
The princess jumped over the clover. They rolled down a small hill until they bumped against a tree. Rebecca sat over the plant and pinned it down to the soil.
‘Or else I will pull out each and every one of your four leaves and let’s see how lucky you feel after that.’
The clover’s little eyes grew like sunflowers. The plant buckled, and kicked and tried to hit the girl with its roots, but it was useless. Princess Rebecca was not moving until she got what she needed. She wrapped her hands around the top leaf and tugged.
‘Alright, alright, I’ll help you!’ exclaimed the Lucky Clover, yielding.
‘Promise?’
‘I promise...now get off!’
‘How do I know you are telling the truth?’
‘You’ll have to trust me. Have a little faith, as they say.’
Rebecca hesitated. Finally she stood up. The Lucky Clover did the same, dusting itself off.
‘Look at this mess. I hope it rains soon, I’m all disgusting!’
‘Lucky that I am bigger and heavier than you,’ Rebecca said, smiling.
‘Ha, ha...’ the clover responded, with a very grouchy face. ‘Now listen, because it will be raining soon...’
‘How do you know?’
‘I am dirty, just wished for rain and my name is the Lucky Clover, what do you think is going to happen?’
‘Oh, yes...so where is the key?’
‘It’s in the white raven’s nest.’
‘There are white ravens? I have never seen one.’
‘There’s one on the tree above us.’
‘Seriously? How lucky is that?’
The clover smirked.
‘Very.’
‘And is it the one, you know, the one with the key?’
The clover rolled its eyes.
‘Get on with the story, child, of course it is the white raven that you need.’
‘How do I get the key then?’
‘That’s the problem part. The raven truly loves that key. It only leaves it at night, to make sure that no one takes it.’
‘But by then it’ll be too late! Is there any way to make it come down before night?’
‘All I can tell you is that the raven likes shiny stuff, and that is why it took the key, and that he flies out of his nest at night.’
Rebecca put her hands over her head. What to do, what to do? She kicked a pebble. A clanking sound broke the silence. The pebble had bounced off an old clay vase, hidden under a flower bed. The princess narrowed her eyes. She looked at the vase. She looked at the pebble. She looked at her feet, then at the vase again.
‘Got it,’ she murmured.
‘What...what did you say?’ asked the Lucky Clover, looking a bit bemused.
‘My Dad once told me how they catch monkeys in Africa.’
‘Monkeys?’
‘Yes! They place a shiny piece of glass in a jar, then the monkey comes, put its hand in, grabs the glass, but then it can’t get its hand out, because it has turned it into a fist. All the monkey has to do is let go of the glass, but it’s too stubborn and just hangs there, trying to figure how to take the glass off. And while the monkey is busy doing this, the hunters come from behind and trap it.’
‘Nice story,’ said the clover. ‘What does it has to do with the raven?’
‘We could do the same thing, with that vase there.’
‘And where will you get the shiny thing?’
Princess Rebecca lifted one of her feet, the silver slipper twinkling like a star.
‘I’d say,’ exclaimed the clover, ‘that’s...’
‘Lucky?’ finished Rebecca, grinning ear to ear.
The Lucky Clover opened its mouth, closed it, and then slowly bowed its head to the girl.
‘Princess, you can count on me.’
They pushed the slippers into the jar and then the clover held it up, trying to catch the sun rays. Finally, a beam hit the silver shoes. Multi-coloured sparkles flew everywhere. The Lucky Clover aimed the rainbow-like glitter at the nest, making them dance over the branches, until the raven lifted its head. Rebecca crouched behind the trunk of the tree, holding her breath.
‘Here raven, raven, raven!’ chanted the clover, ‘come and see what I have for you!’
The raven’s eyes fixed themselves onto the jar. It looked to the left, then to the right. The Lucky Clover began to walk away. The raven shook its feathers and expanded its wings. Rebecca rose little by little, one of her bare feet already touching the bark of the trunk. The clover kept moving away from the tree, until it was several meters off, out in a small meadow.
‘Oh, I guess no one wants these beautiful shiny shoes,’ said the clover, as he placed the vase in the long grass. ‘I’ll leave it here, then – those slippers are too small for me!’
The Lucky Clover turned around and walked back to the gate. The raven scouted the meadow with its dark eyes. Then it gave a loud call and plunged towards the jar. Rebecca dashed up the tree, as the raven slotted its head into the narrow neck of the vase. The silver key was under a blanket of white feathers and woven twigs. The raven began to shriek, as it switched the vase violently from side to side. Princes
s Rebecca jumped to the ground and ran to the other side of the meadow, where she could see the shape of the fourth gate. A crashing sound exploded behind her, as the raven broke the vase against a rock.
‘Run princess, run!’ shouted the Lucky Clover.
The raven cried out in anger, a piece of the vase still hanging around its neck. Princess Rebecca rushed faster, holding the key tight in her fist. The raven widened its wings, ready to take flight, when a shower of seeds and sticks fell over it.
‘Choo, choo!’ cried out the clover, as it threw its ammunition at the puzzled, fuming bird.
By now Rebecca was at the other side of the gate.
‘Will you be alright?’ she shouted.
‘Yes, yes, go now!’ yelled back the clover as it protected its head from the pecks of the attacking raven, ‘I’m the Lucky Clover, remember?’
Princess Rebecca gave one last look and continued her race. A sudden waterfall burst from the sky. Wet and frustrated, the bird gave a last cry and flew back to its nest. The clover stood under the rain, drops sliding from its green face.
‘I told her it was going to rain,’ muttered the Lucky Clover, as it rinsed the dirt off one of its legs.
***