Chapter 4 #2
I loved my friends. From the depths of my heart, I did.
And I cherished the times we spent together, whether they were in passing at the pub or dedicated, like our feast at Merry Day.
But Kizzi and Fiella had their partners, now.
And Velline and Lunette weren’t always up for guests.
And Tandor, my closest friend, spent as much time as possible with Kizzi.
I didn’t blame them. Truly, I didn’t. But sometimes I wished that I was a little more involved. That I was in the center, for once. That I was someone’s entire focus.
I wondered what that would feel like, to know that you came first in someone else’s life beside your own. My heart squeezed with melancholic longing.
Brambleby let out a quiet huff of air.
I drifted over to scoop up the little dragon. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.” I flapped my hand noncommittally. “See you both later.”
“You don’t have to rush out so soon,” Kizzi insisted.
“Oh, that’s alright. I’ve got some things to do, anyways.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Inventory and whatnot. You know how it is.”
“I did inventory yesterday,” Tandor argued.
I scrambled for a better excuse. None found me. I flipped Bramble onto his back and cradled him like a baby. Shockingly, he let me. “Different stuff. Maybe I’ll get started on that dragon journal.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow, boss.”
I nodded in farewell.
“Sprites!” Kizzi shouted.
“On it, Godsblood!” a tiny voice called back.
The sprites burst into motion. Some of them leapt at Raine, who stood bouncing on the floor in the middle of the room. Others sped toward the door to pull it open with impressive efficiency. Others still drifted near me, whispering over my antlers, my shoulders.
It was all very organized. Much less chaotic than times previous.
“Impressive,” I murmured as I drifted out the door.
I glanced at Brambleby to find that he had closed his eyes, growing lax in my grasp.
I wasn’t sure if he was sleeping, exhausted from his quick play session, or simply content to let me carry him.
“Right! They’re getting better!” Kizzi’s voice called after me. It sealed away with a resounding click as the door slid shut.
Unease straightened my spine as I stood in the kitchen of my cottage.
I couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering me. Rain pattered against the roof, splashing against the windows in a gentle staccato rhythm that should have been soothing, but instead set my nerves on edge.
The suns were covered with rain clouds, and it felt entirely too dark.
Brambleby slept peacefully in my arms. Surely, if something was truly amiss, he would have alerted me somehow.
Maybe.
I flicked one of his loosely hanging wings with my fingertip. He didn’t move.
Maybe I shouldn’t count on him to protect me. I was supposed to be protecting him, after all. He was just a baby.
Feigning nonchalance, I tucked the dragon into my bed, pulling the quilt entirely over his body.
It wouldn’t do much to protect him, but maybe, if something bad did happen, it would hide him enough to allow him to escape.
That paranoia, again. Such a nuisance. But I couldn’t shake it.
To ease the sensation, I decided to take a lap around the cottage. Or two. Just to be sure everything was as it should be.
Surely, I would find nothing. But then I would know for certain that my discomfort was unwarranted.
I started with the front door. I tugged on the handle, wiggled the lock, gave it a good shove. Everything held. I hung my cloak on the hook and quickly toweled off my feet and the floor by the door to clean up any lingering moisture and mud from the rain.
Then I moved to the kitchen. The shelves looked as they always did—cluttered and full. I didn’t eat at home often, but I liked to keep supplies on hand, just in case.
My teacups and teas rested in their usual places. Nothing was missing or misplaced, as far as I could tell.
But… I still didn’t feel quite right. The unease persisted.
I took a moment to arrange my boxes and baskets in a perfectly straight line and made a mental note to pay more attention to them. Maybe more tidiness would ease my worries.
Then I moved on to my sitting nook. The same blankets were strewn over my comfy chairs. The same stack of journals sat on the side table with my favorite mug on top, the one with the chip in the handle. No issues there.
The same sad, spindly houseplant sat withering away, dying in the corner. Nothing strange there, either. I’d always been a plant murderer.
Deafening thunder cracked outside, followed by an immediate flash of lightning. It seemed to last for ages, echoing in my ears like an insistent drum. I slapped a hand over my chest to soothe my heart’s frantic beating.
The gentle rain turned into a heavy downpour.
I moved on to my bedroom. My low bed sat in the center of the room as it always did, covered with colorful quilts and a handful of fluffy pillows. Brambleby snored quietly beneath the covers. He hadn’t moved a muscle.
My trunk of clothing stood vigil in the corner. It overflowed with fabrics shoved messily inside instead of neatly folded. Again—normal.
My small collection of trinkets rested on shelves as they always did, some covered with a thin layer of dust from misuse.
I checked the windows, trailing my fingers over the sills, tugging on the latches, inspecting for cracks or broken panes. There were none. I yanked the curtains shut again.
I returned to the kitchen, sinking onto a stool at the dining table and propping my head up with my hands.
Nothing was amiss. I’d proved it with my own eyes.
Still, I felt strange. Like something was off.
I stood with a huff. “I’m just going to check outside, very quickly. I’ll just be a moment,” I called quietly to Brambleby in case he could hear me.
I tugged my cloak on, hugged it close to my body, and buttoned the slotted hood around my antlers to cover my head from the downpour.
A little rain wouldn’t kill me.
I slipped out the front door.
The rain was pouring down in massive rivulets, creating a near opaque sheet to obscure the forest from view.
The front overhang couldn’t even keep me dry with the wind whipping the rain into a frenzy—I was immediately drenched. The water leached the warmth from my limbs, chilled me to my bones.
I persisted.
I stepped from my porch, onto the crispy, browned grass around my property. My hooves squelched in mud.
A shiver jostled my shoulders.
My porch looked fine.
My windows looked normal from the outside, too. I shoved at them to be sure. I rounded the corner, taking a quick lap around the cottage, poking and prodding as I went.
The rain continued to pour, pelting the ground, splashing in puddles, echoing off my cottage’s roof. Any other sounds were drowned out, anything more than a few feet away blurred into a mirage.
I made it back to my porch. I found nothing amiss.
I couldn’t decide if I felt better or worse as I slipped back inside and draped my sodden cloak over its hook. Clearly, nothing was wrong.
But that meant that the strange feeling would remain unexplained.
I toweled off my hooves and stripped out of my drenched clothes, wishing desperately for a clothesline to hang them on, but mine was outside, and would be no help.
I draped them over my kitchen table as best as I could.
Right on top of a small, dark, shiny stone in the shape of a heart.