Shadows in the Silence
Page 15
“Now, sleep,” I said firmly. “Don’t make me slap you again.”
He shook his head and laughed gently. “Okay. Sleep sweet.”
I smiled at him. “You sleep sweet too.”
5
I DREAMED OF WILL AGAIN, BUT THIS TIME THE landscape was familiar. The marshes in southern France were wet and earthy, but they were incredibly beautiful. The sun was rising and we followed his dream projection of myself to a nearby village after pursuing a demonic reaper who’d showed up in town. The patch of dense forest we navigated made travel even more difficult, and up ahead of Will and me, my dream self had to hack the Khopesh swords through thick brush and vines. Her gown was tattered and the gold fabric was splattered with mud, and her hair was long, wild, and loose from its ribbons. In all honesty, she was in desperate need of a shower and a pair of sweats to relax in. I remembered wearing boys’ breeches and boots during hunts back in the days when it wasn’t proper for girls to wear anything but dresses, but this hunt had been unexpected. Gowns were very inconvenient when off killing monsters in the dark.
“Will,” I called to him, and he glanced back at me. “Why this memory? The fight has already happened and the sun’s coming up. There won’t be any more demonic out here.”
“This was a significant moment in my life,” he answered casually, almost a little detached. Of course my dream self was in her own little world, trudging through the marsh completely oblivious to my presence and my conversation with Will.
“How so?” I asked, but got no reply from him.
Through the trees, I could see a clearing, and the rising sun was nearly blinding. As we approached the tree line, I shielded my eyes with one arm and followed my dream self and Will into a lush meadow. As soon as my eyes adjusted, my breath stopped. In the center of the meadow, caught in the golden glow of dawn, was a band of white horses.
We halted just past the trees and the horses lifted their heads, jaws swinging back and forth as they chewed the rich grass. Their necks, thick with muscle, shook long, tangled white manes as locks fell down their faces and over their eyes. Some lifted their noses to catch our scents and they snorted.
“The horses?” I asked, taken by the sight. “They’re what make this memory important to you?”
The corner of his lips turned up in a brief, small smile, and he shook his head. “No. Never the horses. They’re just animals to me, but to you…you’ve always loved them.”
My dream self moved toward them carefully, her tattered dress dragging through the thick, tall grass, and she clucked softly as she lifted her hand to coax them toward her.
As soon as Will took a step forward, the white horses spooked, squealed, and galloped off into thicker brush, splashing through mud and water.
“Will!” my dream self snapped in frustration, spinning around to glare at him. Her hair, deep, dark red in the burning sunrise, blew in the wind and strands caught on her lips and eyelashes. “You frightened them!”
He seemed unaffected as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Animals don’t usually like reapers. You were so mad at me for scaring the horses, not that I really cared. You were such a brat sometimes—the bossiest person I’d ever met.”
“Thanks, jerk,” I grumbled.
My dream self began to follow the horses, but she turned back to glare once more at Will. “Don’t come any closer, okay?” she asked, her voice softer now. “They can smell you and you’ve spooked them, so stay there. Please. I just want to see them.”
She crept closer to the edge of the meadow where the horses had gone and she held her hand out once more. A large horse—the lead stallion—slowly stepped out from the trees on her left, his body flowing like foam on the sea, powerful muscle rippling beneath his white coat. He snorted and gave a throaty rumble, his gray nose questing toward my dream self’s outstretched hand. The rising sun cast a soft glow over his coat, like the golden dawn on pristine, newly fallen snow.
“I don’t believe I breathed the whole time you were out there,” Will whispered. “The stallion could have spooked any second. Even now, I seem to want to hold my breath.”
He wasn’t the only one. I watched the white horse stretch his nose out to my dream self’s fingertips. He sniffed, snorted, drawing back for a heartbeat, and disappointment hung over her face. And then he pressed his nose into her palm, pushed it, and closed his eyes, long lashes folding shut. His entire body seemed to sink and relax as if her touch—my touch—had done it.
Behind him, one by one, his band of white mares and small gray foals slipped through the trees and brush fluidly. They moved as a group toward my dream self, surrounding her, daring to stretch their own noses out to sniff her, touch her. She smiled brightly, her eyes gleaming in the dawn light, the color of her hair intensifying until it flickered like flames down her back and shoulders.
“I couldn’t believe it,” Will breathed, “how they all came out of the trees like that, like they were drawn to you—as drawn to you as I was. Like they could feel you as I could. To this day, nothing I’ve experienced has been sweeter than your touch or your voice—when you weren’t fussing at me, that is. You feel and smell like sunlight, like God’s grace.”
I forced my gaze away from the horses to Will, whose lips were parted in awe, his eyes neon green and flashing. I stepped up next to him, aching to touch him, but afraid to. He seemed trapped in a world I couldn’t join him in.
He shook his head and laughed gently. “Okay. Sleep sweet.”
I smiled at him. “You sleep sweet too.”
5
I DREAMED OF WILL AGAIN, BUT THIS TIME THE landscape was familiar. The marshes in southern France were wet and earthy, but they were incredibly beautiful. The sun was rising and we followed his dream projection of myself to a nearby village after pursuing a demonic reaper who’d showed up in town. The patch of dense forest we navigated made travel even more difficult, and up ahead of Will and me, my dream self had to hack the Khopesh swords through thick brush and vines. Her gown was tattered and the gold fabric was splattered with mud, and her hair was long, wild, and loose from its ribbons. In all honesty, she was in desperate need of a shower and a pair of sweats to relax in. I remembered wearing boys’ breeches and boots during hunts back in the days when it wasn’t proper for girls to wear anything but dresses, but this hunt had been unexpected. Gowns were very inconvenient when off killing monsters in the dark.
“Will,” I called to him, and he glanced back at me. “Why this memory? The fight has already happened and the sun’s coming up. There won’t be any more demonic out here.”
“This was a significant moment in my life,” he answered casually, almost a little detached. Of course my dream self was in her own little world, trudging through the marsh completely oblivious to my presence and my conversation with Will.
“How so?” I asked, but got no reply from him.
Through the trees, I could see a clearing, and the rising sun was nearly blinding. As we approached the tree line, I shielded my eyes with one arm and followed my dream self and Will into a lush meadow. As soon as my eyes adjusted, my breath stopped. In the center of the meadow, caught in the golden glow of dawn, was a band of white horses.
We halted just past the trees and the horses lifted their heads, jaws swinging back and forth as they chewed the rich grass. Their necks, thick with muscle, shook long, tangled white manes as locks fell down their faces and over their eyes. Some lifted their noses to catch our scents and they snorted.
“The horses?” I asked, taken by the sight. “They’re what make this memory important to you?”
The corner of his lips turned up in a brief, small smile, and he shook his head. “No. Never the horses. They’re just animals to me, but to you…you’ve always loved them.”
My dream self moved toward them carefully, her tattered dress dragging through the thick, tall grass, and she clucked softly as she lifted her hand to coax them toward her.
As soon as Will took a step forward, the white horses spooked, squealed, and galloped off into thicker brush, splashing through mud and water.
“Will!” my dream self snapped in frustration, spinning around to glare at him. Her hair, deep, dark red in the burning sunrise, blew in the wind and strands caught on her lips and eyelashes. “You frightened them!”
He seemed unaffected as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Animals don’t usually like reapers. You were so mad at me for scaring the horses, not that I really cared. You were such a brat sometimes—the bossiest person I’d ever met.”
“Thanks, jerk,” I grumbled.
My dream self began to follow the horses, but she turned back to glare once more at Will. “Don’t come any closer, okay?” she asked, her voice softer now. “They can smell you and you’ve spooked them, so stay there. Please. I just want to see them.”
She crept closer to the edge of the meadow where the horses had gone and she held her hand out once more. A large horse—the lead stallion—slowly stepped out from the trees on her left, his body flowing like foam on the sea, powerful muscle rippling beneath his white coat. He snorted and gave a throaty rumble, his gray nose questing toward my dream self’s outstretched hand. The rising sun cast a soft glow over his coat, like the golden dawn on pristine, newly fallen snow.
“I don’t believe I breathed the whole time you were out there,” Will whispered. “The stallion could have spooked any second. Even now, I seem to want to hold my breath.”
He wasn’t the only one. I watched the white horse stretch his nose out to my dream self’s fingertips. He sniffed, snorted, drawing back for a heartbeat, and disappointment hung over her face. And then he pressed his nose into her palm, pushed it, and closed his eyes, long lashes folding shut. His entire body seemed to sink and relax as if her touch—my touch—had done it.
Behind him, one by one, his band of white mares and small gray foals slipped through the trees and brush fluidly. They moved as a group toward my dream self, surrounding her, daring to stretch their own noses out to sniff her, touch her. She smiled brightly, her eyes gleaming in the dawn light, the color of her hair intensifying until it flickered like flames down her back and shoulders.
“I couldn’t believe it,” Will breathed, “how they all came out of the trees like that, like they were drawn to you—as drawn to you as I was. Like they could feel you as I could. To this day, nothing I’ve experienced has been sweeter than your touch or your voice—when you weren’t fussing at me, that is. You feel and smell like sunlight, like God’s grace.”
I forced my gaze away from the horses to Will, whose lips were parted in awe, his eyes neon green and flashing. I stepped up next to him, aching to touch him, but afraid to. He seemed trapped in a world I couldn’t join him in.
