Quoted By:
“What if I take the job?”
Edward appraises you for a moment behind his bushy white eyebrows, then a sly smile crosses his face. “That would certainly solve a few problems. Settling in for the long term then?”
You nod. “Nowhere else to go honestly, but...I like it here and I’ve got seeds to plant.”
“Glad to hear it, Miss April. Well, I’ve certainly no issue handing the spear over to you. I’ll send word when we need you to wield it. And with that I think I’ve taken enough of your time.” He stands and gives a stiff short bow before departing. Not long after you find yourself crashing into your bed, the familiar weariness of the day settling in, though not quite as much as before. Had the little monster been sapping part of your energy? Or were you just recovering a bit more from your ordeal in arriving in Bythewood? Your stomach growls at you, but you ignore it for the comfort of the straw heap instead.
The dark of sleep comes, with it dreams of wolves and eyes in the dark. You run through ancient forests and tussle with golden whales, find yourself surrounded by the gnawing teeth of and hateful eyes of the brownie, suddenly grown to a giant whose teeth close around you. You dream of the Wound, the hole in the night sky, standing before it, weeping, over and over. You wake up with tears on your face, staring up at the dark, and fall asleep to do it again.
You sleep and dream more nightmares of wolves and teeth and great voids. And so on, tossing and turning through the night, twisting between restless dreams and staring at the dark, trying to stay awake until exhaustion drags you back down. Finally the sun creeps over the horizon and you stagger to your kitchen and toss the last of your provisions into a pot, coax the fire to life, and cook your first warm meal in your new home.
A little life creeps back into you as the warm meal fills you. You finish it and make your way to the stream, cleaning the pot out, washing your tear stained face, and manage to stand up straight in the morning sun. The thrift shoots sway in the wind, ready for the harvest, and the rest of the field practically begs to be cleared and planted as well. Nightmares or no, you’re going to make this a good day.
