We sat around a fire, telling stories. Someone was ribbing Ruby. Her eyes narrowed when she replied to him, matter-of-factly, “Your mouth is very small… it’s unattractive.” And her head bobbed side to side as she smiled, pleased with herself.
And then Anvil laughed and his tongue wagged. He was holding someone by the arm, preventing them from running away. Suddenly, my vision changed and I was a hawk, attacking, tearing a piece from his tongue.
And Chevelle. He was in so many of my dreams. We were sparring sometimes, clashing swords. Sometimes he was pummeling me with rocks. Other times, the moments would have surely made me blush, if I could have felt my cheeks. He held my face in his hands, declaring his need for me. “I have wanted you since the moment I first saw you.” But the word burned. Wanted. He’d used the wrong word.
Occasionally, I watched as a third person. My vision would change and my perspective would be off. Like when I saw Fannie. She was razing the village, slowly tearing it apart. Fire and wind and destruction as she cackled and taunted the villagers. She dropped them as they ran, sometimes snapping their necks, sometimes breaking a leg so they would have to stay alive to watch their homes burn, their families die.
There was a large man who forced me to do magic, testing me until I was on the brink. He was fierce and wore a long scar across his brow that touched his cheek. He kept his hair cropped short, not wanting to hide any part of the damage.
And my mother, though my dreams gave her two names. Dark hair, blowing in the wind, arms outstretched, the pendant hanging at her neck glowing fiercely. Fire, flames, burning.
And then water. Drowning. Over and over and over. It almost made the cliff dreams more bearable, to be away from the repetitive drowning.
I swam around in these impressions for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, they became so familiar they all started to seem like my dreams, not someone else’s.
Then the dreams stopped. No images flickered behind my lids, yet my eyes did not open. The muffle in my ears from the drowning dreams was gone. I could hear clearly, clearer than I’d ever heard. I hadn’t found my body yet, but I heard conversations, voices I knew. They were whispers but they were clear. I listened, hoping to gain clarity… but something was still wrong. Nothing fit. They discussed Junnie and Anvil and Fannie, but they were all two people now.
And they were worried, I could hear the stress in their tones. How long had I been like this? It seemed so long, trapped here.
I remembered the vines. I tried to feel my arms, see if they were still there. Was that why I couldn’t move? Was I still tied to a wall? No, no, I wasn’t tied. Had the thorns been poisoned? Was I dying now? I worked to calm myself. No, I was getting better, not worse.
I felt a light pressure on my forehead and my eyes flew open instinctively, though I’d had no response from them all the hours I’d struggled to force them open.
It was Ruby. She sighed with relief. “Oh, Frey.”
I was suddenly surrounded and the sight made my head spin. I closed my eyes tight in an attempt to stop it. “Get her a drink,” I heard someone command. I felt a hand in mine then, as it was pulled away, replaced with a glass. I grimaced; I doubted I could hold a glass up, let alone myself.
“Don’t worry, it's only water,” someone reassured me.
At the word, I realized I was parched, bone dry. I forced myself up, keeping my eyes tight as I concentrated on getting the glass to my lips. They were rough, cracked; I could feel them against the rim of the glass. I wondered if it was dried blood or if I had been down so long they’d simply split. I drank the full glass and felt it exchanged for another.
I finished it as well and started to lean back. There was a pillow behind me now, keeping me in a sitting position. It hit me how soft it was below me, beneath my legs. How warm, how smooth. I opened my eyes gingerly. I was in a bed. A very nice bed.
I looked up to see several people leaving. Steed? Grey? I fought panic as I wondered if they’d all made it. The worry throbbed in my head; it felt like my mind could splinter. I checked the faces close to me for stress but could see none. Ruby smiled at me softly.
“How do you feel?” she asked quietly.
I was having trouble forming a simple answer. There didn’t seem to be a word for it in the disorder of my brain. My silence was answer enough.
“It will pass.”
I hoped she was right.
Chevelle was watching me, anxious now.
“Is everyone alright?” I asked. My throat was raw, my voice sounded as if it had been through a grater.
“Are you?” he replied in a low tone.
I couldn’t be sure.
He hesitated, almost not wanting to ask the question he knew he must. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Elfreda,” I answered immediately. He waited for the rest. But I had two answers, didn’t I? I chose. “… of North Camber.”
He grabbed me, exultant, and kissed me fervently. Yes, that must have been the right answer.