A Capable Princess Crew

20260326

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

CW: A group of children (specifically young teens) in danger.

Dad sticks his head in from the cabin’s little kitchen and calls “Everything alright?” in that hopeful tone which really means “Is everyone having fun?”
So I whoop “Everything’s great!” and am relieved when everyone else choruses agreement. Jen even goes “This’s wonderful. Thanks again.” as if her parents didn’t take her skiing for her birthday. That’s what makes her BFF material.
And this has been a wonderful way to turn thirteen. Waking up at first light to the smell of berry griddlecakes, going fishing in the lake - even though mum was the only person who caught a decent fish, we still managed to get enough to make fish chowder for lunch. Then we went for a ramble through the nearby woods, and once the rain started it was back here to get a cosy fire going and do princess makeovers while waiting for pizza and birthday cake.
“Oh good!” Dad beams. “Dinner should be ready in a few minutes, cheese is almost browning. Anyone need a fresh drink?”
Eager agreement makes him chuckle and duck back into the kitchen to grab a fresh pot of cocoa.
I settle back and admire my rainbow nails, thankfully dry enough to eat pizza without fear of smears. Between that and the amazing braids Rhea’s given me, I really do look like a princess. I fancy I could even be an elf queen, or a forest fairy, or something. I hope mum’s headache clears up so she can come join in-
The cabin’s back door is thrown open, letting in the drumbeat of the pounding rain, and I can just make out dad calling “Sarah? Where are you going? Are - WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
His voice, confused and worried, makes it clear that mum hasn’t simply gone out to get something from the car. But, wait, I thought she was in the bedroom, having a lie-down?
I spring up and hurry to check. Though I hadn’t heard anything, and the bedroom is still dark, its door is open. No sign of mum. But why would she go outside? And her coat and boots are still hanging with everyone else’s.
Dad’s coat is missing, and I can just make out its neon yellow, an eye-catching shade like an unripe lemon with the brightness turned way up, selected because you can see it even when rain is turning the windows into a blur.
What’s going on?
Jen is standing by the back door, phone in hand, wearing the same expression she dons for gym class - grim, unflappable focus. “I’ve got signal. Think I should call for help?”
The air blowing in is wet and cold. I don’t remember all the instructions about hypothermia, but I do remember it being scary. Dad’s out of sight and I can only just hear him. His shouting’s more frantic.
“I, um… yeeeeah.” I decide. “Can you tell them my mum didn’t feel well and now she’s run off without her coat? And my dad’s run after her.”
Jen nods and starts dialling. Adds as an afterthought “Oh, I turned the oven off, so the pizzas won’t burn.”
True BFF.
Now what? As much as I want to run after dad, I know I shouldn’t.
“Why don’t you get stuff ready to warm them up, if they come back?” Jen suggests, and I’m so relieved to have direction that I don’t even get angry about her saying “if”.
Instead I give her a quick hug of thanks and hurry back to explain things to the others. I find Charlie’s building up the fire in the bedroom while Rhea unpacks extra blankets, and Kelly and Grace have set chairs up in front of the main fireplace and draped towels over them to warm.
I am so glad that I’m here with capable princesses. I dive into mum’s and dad’s suitcases and pull out dry clothes, piling them onto the double bed.
The back door slams shut again. I rush back. Was it just the wind, or are mum and dad in?
Neither - Jen is standing with her hand on the doorknob, glaring out the wavery watery curtain obscuring the window on the door.
“Jen?”
“Your dad just posted on the group chat. Said he managed to get your mum into the van, and she’s really not well, and we aren’t to go outside or let anything in.”
The rock in my stomach spins and for a moment I feel dizzy. “You already called for help, right?”
“Yeah, ambulance is on the way. I told him.”
“I-I’ll go check everything else is locked.”
Jen nods. Calls “Hey, Charlie, you’ve got your cryptid badge, right?”
We secure the parameter. Arm ourselves with camping knives, and in Jen’s case the firewood hatchet. Make sure the first aid kit is to hand. Keep watch on the distant light of the van.
Dad posted that mum’s fallen asleep again. I wish I believed him. Maybe it’s true.
Even though my heart’s hammering against my ribs, and I’m worried for my parents, the main thing I’m dwelling on is how glad I am that I’m not alone. That I’ve got a, a battle-band with me.
Rhea’s converted her waterfall braids into something that’ll definitely stay out of her eyes. Jen is keeping contact with the emergency responders - says they’ll be here soon, and know about the monster, which Charlie reckons is a Lurker. Which are “less dangerous than a bear”, as she keeps assuring me.
I don’t think I’d want a bear prowling around out there either. At least they aren’t known to work doorhandles. Are they? A question for later.
So I clutch my knife in one rainbow-gilded hand and nibble on lukewarm pizza with the other, my gaze on the beacon which is the battered old van my parents rented for this trip.
What a way to turn thirteen. Going full warrior princess.

Prompt was “Write a horror or thriller story set at a sleepover.”