Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I’m lost in a forest.
Oh, great. This again.
I’m lying in the middle of a clearing, surrounded on all sides by evergreen trees that disappear into the indigo sky.
There’s a light dusting of snow on the ground and coating the needles of the trees.
Taking a better look at the sky above me, it’s sometime in the evening based on how deep the color is.
There are a sprinkling of stars that appear brighter than normal and provide a fair amount of illumination to the area around me.
I roll onto my side and push up into sitting.
My eyes trace the entirety of the space, looking to see if there’s anyone else around, but at first glance, it’s quiet and I’m alone.
My shoulders sag with relief at the reprieve from the screaming woman, releasing the tension I didn’t realize I was carrying.
I push to my feet and spin in a circle taking one more look to see if I can identify anything important. A reason why I’d be dreaming of this mysterious forest.
A blur of movement deep in the tree line catches my attention.
I whip around in that direction, my shoulders climbing towards my ears with renewed tension.
It’s dark so it’s hard to make anything out.
I squint my eyes in hopes it’ll make my vision sharper.
It doesn’t work so I take a few steps in that direction.
As soon as I get close enough to the tree line to make out a shadowy shape, it shifts again. I can tell now that it’s the silhouette of a human.
Please don’t be the screaming woman. Please don’t be the screaming woman.
“Hello?” I ask, easing closer.
Please don’t be the screaming woman.
I’m just about close enough that I could almost start making out features when the figure shifts once more and, in a blink, it’s looking in my direction. The starlight catches on piercing crystalline, blue eyes staring right back at me.
My eyes go wide with shock and I stumble back, tripping on a gnarled root, falling. My stomach swoops as gravity pulls me to the ground. I throw my hands back to catch myself on the way down. My hand snags on a branch and I hiss at the sharp pain that flares on my right hand.
“Shit!” I hold my hand out in front of me and see a cut across the center of my palm. It’s broken the skin enough that a slow stream of blood trickles out.
Of course I would cut myself in a dream. But why does it hurt so much?
I look back up to where the figure was tucked into the shadows and see it’s no longer there. I push myself back up and look around the clearing and see I’m once again alone.
“I swear I’m going crazy,” I huff, shaking my head and turning back around towards the center of the clearing.
Standing directly in front of me is the red-haired woman, wearing a devious grin.
“A spark shall blaze at fate’s design,” she whispers before she lets out a wail.
I jolt awake, clutching my hands to my chest.
That was the strangest of all the nightmares I’ve had yet. It wasn’t quite the same, it almost felt calm… until it wasn’t. And again, it felt so real.
The scent of pine lingers with me which is odd as I’ve never been able to pick up on anything like that in previous dreams.
I lift my hand to rub the sleep from my eyes when a flash of pink draws my attention to my palm. The exact same cut from the dream is etched into my palm, but it’s no longer bleeding.
What the fuck?
I must still be dreaming. Because there’s no logical reason why a cut from a dream would be there when I’m awake. That’s not possible. Is it?
Maybe Samhain made my dreams super intense?
I look out the window of my room and see everything outside appears normal, as if this was another typical day. When I look back at my hands, I notice a slight tremor. I ball my hands into fists against my nightdress and close my eyes, taking deep breaths.
It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. You must have cut your hand yesterday while gathering with Tom and didn’t realize.
It was just a dream.
Once I’ve calmed my breathing and the shaking in my hands has stopped, I open my eyes and climb from bed.
I stumble to the washbasin on shaky legs, gripping the edge of the bowl until my knuckles turn white. Looking in the mirror, my face is a near replica of the day before. Sunken eyes with dark smudges. But they also look a bit wild and frazzled. I truly look spooked.
I scoop up the chilled water between cupped palms and splash my face a few times until the cold starts to pull my mind away from the nightmare and into reality.
Drying my face with the towel beside the basin, I turn to the armoire where I rummage for another shift dress.
Something comfortable for the unseasonably warm day and a trek through the forest.
It’s a wonder that with these recurring nightmares I still feel so at home in the forest. In the nightmares I’m always so anxious which I think is an effect of the dream itself, but it hasn’t done anything to put me off going into the woods around my own home.
I know them well enough that there’s no chance I’d be living out a real-life version of it.
Once I’ve dressed and wrangled my hair into some semblance of control, I head out into the kitchen, where I’m not surprised to see Fleur already flitting around, preparing ingredients for the feast.
She’s going to be like this all day. This is her holiday.
She loves everything about preparing the feast and what Samhain stands for.
Even if it does have a not-so-mundane origin.
I would offer to help, but every time I’ve offered my assistance in the past, she’s always shooed me from the kitchen, all but shoving me out the front door and told me not to come back until it was nearly time for dinner.
When I was around fifteen, I finally stopped trying.
I typically grab the latest book I’ve been reading and take it with me into the woods.
“Morning, dear,” Fleur calls over her shoulder as I step into the room. I swear this woman has eyes on the back of her head because I didn’t think I even made enough noise for her to hear me enter the room. She somehow just knows.
“Morning, Aunt Fleur. Anything I can do to help?” I ask, moving through the kitchen as I only half-listen to the response I know is coming.
“No, no, you go off and do your thing.” She waves me off, as expected. “Come back for dinner. And don’t forget to bring Thomas with you if he still insists on joining.”
“Okay, but you know where to find me if you need anything,” I offer. I’ll always offer, even though I’ve stopped pushing.
I snatch a bread roll from where it’s cooling on the tabletop, ignoring the hiss of scolding coming from Fleur as I head back to my room, looping my basket’s handle through my arm as I go.
I walk over to the bed and lift the mattress.
Sitting there, tucked between the mattress and the wood of the bed frame is the weathered, leather tome I’ve been reading lately.
The gold foil that was previously gilding the front cover has all but worn away to the point that I can’t read the title anymore.
I grab the book, tucking it up under my arm to keep it out of sight.
Dropping the mattress back down, I turn to the vanity to grab two red candles, a small tinderbox, and a hip flask of water, tossing them into my basket.
Stopping at Fleur’s little workstation in the corner of the living room, I grab a piece of parchment and charcoal to scrawl out a quick note for Tom about what time to be at dinner.
I’ll drop it off at his door on my way out to the woods.
I know for a fact he’ll still be asleep, and even if he isn’t, this isn’t something I want his company for.
“I’ll be back!” I call to Fleur as I tuck my feet into my shoes that are stashed by the front door.
She gives me a look of sympathetic understanding over her shoulder, knowing full well where I’m headed. “Make sure you’re home before sundown.”
“I will,” I say as I step out into the crisp, autumn air.
It’s time to pay a visit to my parents.