Gamleon's Tail ~ Welcome to the worlds of : Within ~

Time for action

Her thoughts wandered. Castles. Painted, powdered ladies with shining eyes. Freedom from endless sweltering days in the dirt, pulling the turnips, the beets, the carrots. The sun and the work always the same.

Surely there was another way.

Maybe if they really saw her and how she was on the inside, met nice people like her father. Could they see that we weren't all hateful, greedy and violent?

How could they just be mad or bad all the just breaking stuff and being awful? If she could be there with them, catch a glimpse of something truly powerful. If there were danger , real danger then maybe Orcinia would come. Maybe the lady Orcinia, the "Arisen one" would notice her, see that she wasn't afraid, that she didn't run when things got bad. Maybe Orcinia would choose her, the way she had chosen others before. And then... then Dreema could leave behind the endless fields, the heat, the monotony of life in the dust and dirt. She could go somewhere else. Somewhere better, where creatures like Orcinia walked in the clouds and she could really live in the safety of their protection.

It wasn't that Dreema thought she deserved that or had proven her worthiness. It was about a place where things were bigger, more meaningful and fully alive not dull and repetitive Pick it up carry it put it over there over and over for the rest of her life.

Snatching up the half a candle in the hallway and crouching low. Skillfully lighting it off of the embers in the hearth. The front door only creaked at a certain point, luckily enough for her she was thin enough to slip past that spot without a sound.

Walking past the garden in the newly fallen leaves the broken twigs. She felt foolish for forgetting shoes. Or at least grabbing a gardening tool or something to defend herself with. Not because she'd find bandits or monsters in the trees, but raccoons and wild dogs weren't unheard of. Even a branch could scare something off, if you were quick and loud. Not thinking clearly. Not fully awake. Driven by insatiable curiosity and the fantasy lands of little girls with heads full of dreams.

The candle shaking slightly in a small sweaty hand.

Whatever it was, it hadn't followed the trail to their porch. It was off to the side toward the thickets, and beyond.

She put her hand in front of the candle. There wasn't much of a breeze, but. Anything at this point? She knew they didn't have many candles like this, and those that they did have would surely be missed. They were not the easiest things to come by, according to her mother, nor were they cheap. So she helped, of course, to make the best of it. It was off to the side where she remembered that further on ran the river.

The brush pressed close around her, breathing with insects and tiny eyes, a tangle of leaf and thorn and old, damp stone. Dreema crouched low, scabby knees to chest, trembling too much heart and lumpy throat. The candle guttered. Made more noticeable by the cloudy sky and hidden moon. Stupidly she stared at the small flame as it robbed her eyes of whatever little adjusting to the dark they had done. Then as if on cue in her next stride, she slipped. The flame snuffed under gown as the hot wax bit her dainty fingers. She sat on her cold rump shaking her head and looking back towards where their house should be. Shamefully picked up the remains of the mashed tallow and picked the wick back out the best she could. One careless step and now darkness wrapped in like the cold bitter and tight. Not much to make out now except for the flicking glow ahead.

Not torchlight. Not firelight.

Fairy light.

They hovered in a loose ring beneath the canopy, mostly lithe and androgynous, eyes like birds and insects, taut skin sharp with patterns etched in glittering pollen and ash. Most wore bark leathers or small hides and only two gave off that soft internal glow and blinking wings that marked their royal bloodline. They didn't look at all at ease as they chased and wrangled fireflies back into small twig enclosures. Their eyes darted often toward the shadows, and their fingers twitched on the hilts of wet looking blades.