Page 95 of The Song of Sunrise
I ache all over, physically and mentally. Never before have I wanted to live off the grid on my own. A simple life. Butnow, that seems appealing. No responsibilities beyond your own everyday needs. It is so, so tempting.
No one to worry about.
No one to lose.
The heat from the fire finally has warmed the cabin enough that my trembling subsides. The wind gently rustles the window frames as I tuck myself into bed after scratching a single hash mark into the wall with the sharp edge of my golden pendant.
I layer the two quilts and curl on my side, watching the flames dance in the fire. The fire crackles and pops like the flames that destroyed so many homes in Redrock. I wince and turn to the other side.
Embers flicker in the fire as I wake. Early dregs of sunlight poke through the windows. I slip on a woolen shirt that Nickel left behind and add a few more logs to the fire. The stockpile of wood should last a few days, which is perfect.
I want to be alone.
Away from Redrock.
Away from the Watch.
Away from anyone I care for, because it seems wherever I go, a path of destruction follows.
I walk toward the river with two large pails to gather water for a bath. The Dolan River rarely freezes over, even in the coldest of winters, because of its strong current. I begin filling my bucket. Heru splashes happily upstream. Fish startle and jump at her destruction, and she easily plucks at them with her beak one by one until she’s had her fill.
I chuckle at the sight. Even a beast bred for war is just a silly bird inside.
I lower my second bucket into the stream and am surprised to see a flower. A lily, beautiful white and blue. I have a feeling if it were night, this bloom would glow.
Atlys.
My stomach clenches. He acts like he likes me, like he genuinely wants to help me. Yet when a rogue Underworld clan attacked Redrock, he remained seated. I can still see the strained look on his face as he sat still on his royal ass.
I throw the lily back into the river and watch as it bobs up and down along the surface until it disappears, then stomp back to the cabin only to find another lily in the empty tub and a third in the sink!
Plucking each lily from the places throughout the cabin, I throw them out the front door and slam it shut so hard, one of the hinges pops loose. The door is now dangerously close to falling off entirely.
“Fuck!” I grunt in frustration and search for the tool to fasten the hinge.
Just as I finish fixing the door, a soft yipping sound comes from the corner of the room. I freeze and strain my ears.
I snatch the broom leaning against the wall and turn in one quick movement, poised to strike at the intruder.
Sitting in the center of the woven rug is the last thing I expected to see when I turned around. “Nightmare! What are you doing here?”
The brown groundhog-looking dog just blinks innocently at me with those round teal orbs and extends a paw with a note attached. I grab the rolled parchment. Nightmare looks satisfied then starts to disappear into the floor.
“Wait!”
Nightmare pauses.
I quickly scribble a note to Ramona. It’s been a day since the Battle of Redrock. I explain that I’m fine. That I needed to seeGoldenpine, and that… that I need a few days alone to process everything. I hand Nightmare the note. “Take this to Cadet Ramona Mitchell, please.”
His eyes fill with an understanding, and he carefully takes the note with his teeth then trots through the wall.
I’ll never get used to that.
I manage to ignore the small scroll, sealed with black wax with the insignia of house Terraguard, for the remainder of the afternoon. My coward of a sponsor can go fuck himself.
I stomp about the cabin and try to make myself busy, mending a hole in the quilt and reinforcing the rocking chair’s leg that looked suspiciously close to falling off. By nightfall, I’ve fixed almost everything in the cabin. The floor is mopped and not a single dust particle is in sight, and yet all I can think of is a certain white-haired Underling.
Not sure what else to do. I return to my instincts: music. I grab two wooden spoons from the drawer and begin tapping a rhythm on the table, testing and trying until I find just the right beat for one of Marrow’s old favorites. I sing until my voice goes hoarse as I stare at the golden staff now leaning against the wall.
