"They better go home this time."
"We see trucks coming this way. They're coming."
"This lawn is shit. No one mows the lawn now?"
"Attention. We have a suspect to interrogate."
"If I ring and no one answers, you buy me lunch."
"Wait. Did you hear something?"
． ..
"Sounds intense."
"Shall we knock?"
"No, keep listening."
"They're silent. If we don't leave now, they'll run away."
"Damn it. Okay, let's do it."
It had been bitterly cold like winter in the forest all week. It's not that it's really cold outside; in fact, the weather is really nice for this time of year. But when you've just spent the last few months of summer and suddenly it's fall, even in pretty much the same climate, it takes a while for your body to adapt. Like two days of being hot can feel very different depending on the season.
All of this is to say, I've been shaking for the past few days, but I wouldn't want to give it to anyone else. I wore light-colored clothes like everyone else—although Sarah pointed out that I always wore dark clothes to blend in more easily with the crowd. But I don’t want to look like a freak, wearing a thick jacket everywhere. What I dealt with in school was chills and a runny nose.
So when I tell you that despite all this, I still felt like the room got colder in an instant, you'll know what I mean, it was like the North Pole.
It didn't take long for me to understand why. As I looked away from Matt and Carl, who were still nervous, I saw the outline of a hand, just behind the curtain that surrounded my front door window. My instinct was right.
I shut them up. We stared at the door for hours, but only a second later the first knock came. Someone knocked hard on our door with their fist.
Matt took charge immediately. "Jen, hide," he hissed. I don’t have to listen to it a second time. I looked very out of place in my hunting clothes, with a quiver on my back and a bow on my shoulder. As I hurried upstairs, I grabbed the arrow from the railing, and in the process, a small piece of the arrow fell off.
Matt raised his eyebrows. I shrugged and retreated into the shadows of the stairs upstairs. Anyway, the stairs look shabby and not very conspicuous.
Well, it was; the scratches and scuffs were a lot different than the sudden gaping holes I'd just ripped open, but what exactly did he want? I couldn't leave it there.
For a moment, I felt strangely jealous, wondering why Matt had sent me away and not Carl. But it didn't take me long to figure out the answer. Whoever was on the other side of that door probably heard people arguing—especially two people. Matt would have looked more suspicious if he had taken it alone. I can disappear because I'm not yelling like an idiot, but we need to look like we have nothing to hide.
But there was no way I wouldn't listen. I lay down in the corner at the top of the stairs, pressing my ears to the carpet, as close to the corner as possible so that no one could see me.
I heard the door click open.
"Hello, officers." Matt's voice sounded, quite calm. Someone was leaning on the railing, and a slight female voice came from the stairs. I thought it was Carl. His breathing was still heavy, even though he was trying to hold it in.
"Matthew Westin?" A typical police voice, direct and professional. I concluded that this person must be wearing glasses, neatly dressed in uniform, and neatly dressed. Probably handsome too.
"can I help you?"
"Detective, actually," another voice said. Rough. He would be an unruly man, a policeman who has his own way. Ragged clothes, indifferent attitude. At the same time, I had to modify the image of the first person in my mind to that of an undercover investigator. Still dressed appropriately, but in a suit rather than a uniform.
Damn, are we watching some buddy cop show? Oh my god, why do I remember TV so clearly and nothing else?
I could have laughed if I wasn't so scared. Instinctively, my hand slid to the knife near my back. Not that I was going to attack the police, but there was no way I was being forcibly taken somewhere.
I will never see you again.
I tried to focus on the conversation. My mind keeps wandering on so many tangents. They seemed to be still introducing it though, so I didn’t miss much.
"...We're here to investigate a missing persons case."
"Missing person?" Matt said, still maintaining perfect control in his tone. I knew he wouldn't let it slip in front of the police, no matter what they did. I was more worried about Carl, who still didn't have control of his breathing. He's not tired from the fight, is he? It's like two punches. He's not that out of shape. Must be nervous.
Carl was horrified.
"Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" the professional asked. Everything was so calm and polite. The only thing that wasn't normal was that Carl was out of breath.
"Of course. Please come in."
Karl's breathing became rapid again. I could tell he wasn't ready for the pressure. Matt, this is a mistake. I know you're right to do this, but Carl can't handle it right now.
They walked into the sitting area next to the front door. All I could make out was Matt's face as he sat down in the corner. The two detectives followed them and rushed through the gap. Karl stayed on the stairs, looking up from the third step.
"When was the last time you saw Blake Swatham?" the big man asked. As expected, straight to the point. He followed the rules exactly. Even “Sva
tholm" is mispronounced.
"Blake...is missing?" Oh, thank the stars. Matt, you're great. Without hesitation.
"When was the last time you saw him?" P
ofessio
al-guy asked again.
"Well, the night before yesterday." No, that's wrong. Matt, don't lie to them. You don't know what they know yet.
"Second Wednesday?"
"No, I'm sorry. I meant Tuesday night." Or you always knew what to do. Well, I won't doubt you anymore.
"Then Tuesday the 1st." I heard a scraping sound. Probably a professional taking notes on a yellow pad because pads must be yellow.
"You know no one has seen him since that night?" Rough-guy said.
"No, I didn't. I mean, I'm surprised I didn't see him at school, but I thought he might be sick or something."
"What were you two doing that night?"
"Just hanging out. Nothing special."
Carl fidgeted on the stairs. These people are too nice not to notice. "You don't happen to be Carl Stockson, do you?"
He nodded nervously. I was surprised. To see someone like Carl - with all his accomplishments, all the power he once had - be shaken to his core by two real-world cops is just... sad. I feel sorry for him.
"Blake is your best friend, right?"
"Yes."
"Were you there that night?"
"Yes, I am." Karl's voice was deep. Maybe he had a preconception about police officers? I don't remember, although I tried hard. I still can't understand his gesture of defeat.
"Where were you that night?"
"Here. Um... go out for a while."
"We drove around for a while and went to a few places," Matt added. He wanted to draw them away from Carl.
"Is there anything special about it? the professional asked.
"not real."
"Isn't it Sierraville Park?"
Shit. Damn, damn. We were exposed as a lie. Well, so be it. This was enough to arouse their suspicion.
I placed my bow and quiver in the nearest room. My days of watching too much TV with Sarah were about to pay off big time.
"Maybe," Matt said quietly, but I could hear his voice shaking a little. I doubted the police would recognize it, but I didn't want to let things go any further. I've already taken action.
"Hey, Matt, what's going on?" I yelled, hurrying downstairs.
"Jane?" He turned around in surprise. Carl also looked up in confusion.
"Are you the police?" I asked, hoping my voice was cheerful and optimistic. I try not to have any accent. I'm just a regular Oregon girl. As expected, I nailed their appearance to perfection. Disappointing, but what can you do? But what interests me more is that the pro doesn't look any older than me. I had no idea the detective was here so young.
Apparently not much older than I actually am. Not CU
e
t-me. However, I still think he is in his mid-twenties, which is very simple.
The professionals spoke. "Yes. Detective Portman and Detective West."
"Neat. Mind if I hang around here?" I plopped down in the chair next to Matt. The pros looked surprised. I wonder if you can interrogate us in the presence of minors? For once, I'm actually grateful to be seven years younger.
It wasn't the most elaborate move and was definitely just a temporary solution, but it was enough to take the pressure off and give Carl some breathing room. I hope so.
"If you don't mind, we'd like to talk to your brother alone, please." Professionals are polite, but I don't want to leave it at that.
"No, I mind a little. Has he been arrested?" Goodbye, Mr. Detective. your actions. Are you bluffing, or should I give it a try?
"No."
"Then you can't force him to answer any questions now. They promised me a nice lunch, so if you don't mind, I want my brother back in the kitchen." I treated her like a little sister on purpose. Anything to get them out of our house, right now. Matt stumbles and I don't want to think about what would have happened if they started asking Carl directly.
Clearly doubting his legal status here, the professional stood up. The guy seemed surprised, but followed his companion. However, in typical detective fashion, Big Man pulled a business card from his jacket and handed it to Matt.
"Call if you think of anything."
"Of course," Matt replied, putting it in his pocket. There was a calmness returning to his voice, and I felt very reassured. The police were out the door quickly, and I watched cautiously as they returned to their cars and left across the block. Once they were gone, I turned back to face my brother.
"That's so sloppy," Matt said.
I snapped: "Masa Daput." "Why did you lie?"
"I-" Matt started.
"We're screwed," Carr said. We all looked at him, confused.
“I think it’s a little preemptive,” Matt said.
"They've already been to my house once. My dad told me."
"So they know you and Blake are friends. That's not news," Matt explained.
"Yeah, but that part about Seraville. They probably knew it from my conversation with Blake. From Blake's computer. They'd know I was involved."
Matt sighed. "It's not the end of the world yet, Carl. We'll figure it out."
Carl narrowed his eyes. "Think of something," he sneered. "you are always like this."
"Yes, Carl," Matt said. His voice was much sharper now. "Just like I always do. You held me accountable and now it's time for you to listen to me." I wanted to speak for Matt, but his tone reminded me that he didn't need to. I'd forgotten what his voice sounded like.
That's really not a good memory.
"They knew we went to the forest," Matt continued, and we both fell silent. "We can't deny it. We just have to stand by our story. When we got home, just after midnight, we dropped Blake off. That was the last we saw of him. Jean, you've never been there. You do not know anything."
I nodded, but I wasn't sure it would hold up. Better than nothing…
"Is this? Are we just going to keep lying like this?" Carl asked.
"There's no evidence at all," Matt said. "They can never prove anything."
"What about Blake's parents? Our friends? Are they supposed to believe he's gone forever?"
"Yes, he said it."
"Fuck you, Matt," Carl snapped. "Blake deserves better."
"what's on your mind?"
"I... don't know. However." Karl's voice dropped. He hesitated. "I don't know if we can do this. Live here."
"We had no other choice," Matt said. I could tell he was trying to comfort me, but it didn't work at all and Carl wasn't having it either. Matt wasn't the right person to help him. Maybe, maybe not, but I can't think of anything better to say. So I kept silent.
Of course, this meant Carl's face was turned towards me. He looked me straight in the eye. Stop staying out of it.
"what do you think?"
I took a deep breath and tried to get my nerves back to normal. "I think Matt is right."
Carl looked crestfallen. Did he think I would agree with him? Matt?
"Carl, I need to know you can do this," Matt said. "They're going to ask you questions and we're not here. Can you do that?"
He didn't answer, not right away. I could see him thinking, calculating. He's a planner, like Matt. Carl is definitely the smartest, most well-read, cunning, and definitely the most successful of us all. But he lacks Matt's self-control, the ability to suppress his emotions when necessary. Matt is an iceberg, floating steadily and hiding much more beneath the surface. Carl is a flame, bright and powerful, but ready to burn the world down if he's pushed in the wrong direction.
The worst part is, I'm not sure which of them I actually agree with. My own thoughts were confused and I just defaulted to supporting my brother. I believe he has a real plan in mind. I know he will take care of me.
"Jen, can I talk to you?" Carl asked calmly.
I raised my eyebrows. What does he want from the private conversation?
"Go ahead," Matt said sternly.
"A man, an idiot," Carl retorted.
"I'm just going to stay here," Matt said.
He wanted to protect me. I see. Normally, I'd be grateful, but now it's all wrong. This is Carl, not the police, not Rainey's army, or the Deathblade of Venenport. Even if he really wanted to hurt me, I could kill the weaker Carl at any time. No sweat.
"Then I guess we're going somewhere else," I interjected. Carl glanced over, surprised, but not nearly as surprised as Matt. "I'll be fine. Go get us some food, okay?" He hesitated for a moment and nodded.
good. He still trusts me. At least there's something here.
Matt retreated into the kitchen while Carl and I walked out to the backyard. Carl almost immediately started pacing. It was obvious that he was still too frightened by the police to calm down. I walked out onto the lawn and let my bare feet enjoy the grass. I sat cross-legged and stared at the clouds swirling in the sky. They look like huge structures, many miles across. I wonder if I can contact them one day and if I can get into etola again. Maybe I could use the wind to lighten my weight and float me upward into the sky. I think I enjoyed it.
I could also see myself falling from miles away and dying young, but hey, no one does a cool thing and does it completely safely, right?
But it doesn't matter. I would never have had this opportunity unless I decided to take up skydiving. Magic is a thing of the past, forever. I will die young, withering away in my eighties like humans do. I could never fly like a bird, swim like a fish, or be shaped like a tree, or mind meld, or hundreds of other things I haven't done yet. It's gone.
"We don't belong here," Carl said at last.
I sighed and wiggled my toes in the grass. "What should we do?"
"I don't know yet. But I'm trying to find out."
"What are you now?" I was cautiously interested. It’s not that I’m eager to find a way back. Despite everything I just listed, there are plenty of reasons to be happy coming back. Inconclusive. I just like having options. Just make yourself less limited in this world.
"I've been sending messages. Trying to find anyone who might have had a similar experience. If it happened to us, why can't it happen to someone else?"
I shook my head. "It's magic, Carl. It doesn't have to be logical."
"I couldn't believe it. The universe works according to rules. We just stumbled upon a new rule that no one has documented yet."
"So you think you can figure it out?"
"I'd rather someone else already knew and just kept it a secret for the same paranoid reasons we share," Carl muttered. I started talking loudly but he continued. "No, I think you're right and I'm not going to make this public. Our lives would be a lot worse. But some anonymous post on the internet isn't going to raise any alarms."
I guess that makes sense to me. But Matt won't like it. "Did you find anything?"
Carl shrugged. "Most of them are trolls, or just pure fantasy. But I found a possible match. A guy who claims he knows something and is clearly as scared as we are. I've been talking to him."
I felt a surge of excitement, coupled with a healthy dose of defensive skepticism. "How can you be sure you can trust him?"
"I can't. Of course not. This is the internet. But from the few prime ministers we've dealt with so far, he seems legit."
"Premenstrual syndrome?" I asked with a hint of embarrassment.
"Sorry. Private messages. No one will see them."
"Okay," I said neutrally. I don’t want to get my hopes up too high, but I’m sure Carl will be cautious. Especially when it comes to networking.
"What if-" Karl wanted to say, but he suddenly interrupted himself. I glanced at him curiously. His expression was unpredictable, a mix of worry and hope.
"What if?" I prompted.
"Would you go back with me? If I found a way?"
I didn't answer right away because I didn't really have an answer and this seemed to open a floodgate.
"There was nothing left for me. I couldn't fit in with my family, school was worthless, and I couldn't imagine myself just going through the usual hoops. Going to college, getting a job, whatever. After what I'd done? This would It's a step backwards. Nothing I've accomplished in this world can compare to what I accomplished in Sierraville." Carl's face contorted into a bitter smile. "I still have a lot of unfinished business there. It's not right for me to leave, you know? I know you still have people here. You have friends and family, but do you really belong here? Do you really belong here? Are you happy?"
A few days ago, or even a month ago, I might have agreed. Today, I said nothing.
"You should be by my side as we reshape the world."
The way he said it, trying to sound solemn, made me laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But what's going on? Reshaping the world?"
"why not?"
"I don't know. It seems crazy to say that to a couple of kids from Oregon."
Carl shook his head. "It's crazy, but we've done it once. The four of us brought down an entire empire."
"We have help," I said contemptuously.
"Tell me you prefer this world to Seraville," Carl snapped.
"You know what? Not everything is great," I shot back. My own temper is on the rise, and at the moment, I don't really want to control it. "As cool as your city, your guild, and daphut are, they treat me like shit."
Carl's faith didn't seem to waver, so I kept walking. "I'm not talking about the pit. You've already got it. I mean after we won. They still didn't want me around them. I could walk down the street and be scorned by anyone who passed me. Just because of where I came from. .”
"I didn't-" Carl was startled.
"No, you didn't. Because I didn't want you to know. I was going to have to deal with that. It's hard enough being a girl living in a medieval fantasy world, and to make it even worse, there's a severely racist kingdom and I Half-elf." It was hard to give a good speech when I was still trying to learn the language. "I know you and Matt are trying to get everyone together. But honestly? I almost ditched you both and went back to my sunroom."
This is something I never thought I would tell them. Matt would be devastated if he found out. I never meant to hurt him like that. But Carl's view of the world was too optimistic, and he needed a serious wake-up call.
When he spoke again, his voice was calm and uneasy. “What makes this world such a wonderful place?”
"I don't know yet," I said honestly, "but I'm not giving up either."
＊＊＊
Carl left shortly after. He confessed what happened in his home and why he couldn't go home. But I (finally) had his cell phone number and we promised to meet up again soon. He'll camp out in public places with internet access until we figure out how to deal with the police. I feel like at least now I've calmed him down. I can only hope to the stars that we find a more permanent solution soon.
But when he left, I could feel something was missing. Carl doesn't trust me that much anymore. It was a bond we had, forged over shared experiences and the many days and nights we spent on the run alone outside Venantport. It was suddenly walled off. I can still feel a connection between us, but it is weak and fragile and I feel like he will never contact me again. Unless he finds a real solution, anyway.
The stars really do nothing for me anymore. I blamed it all on a night sky I no longer recognized, a void filled with strange patterns and a ridiculously large moon.
Do I want to return to the sky in my memory? I can't tell. Everything I said to Karl was true, but...
However, I have found that it is almost impossible for me to live in this world either. As I told Matt, I was practically hanging from a twig. I wanted to go back, but at the same time, I didn’t want to leave. I was caught between two worlds, with things I loved and things I feared.
Eloquent, I know. If I could use Etoli
It sounds better if written out, but you can't read it, so this is the best you can get.
In that moment, I thought of my mother. She's always hovered on the fringes of my life, but for one reason or another she's never really been the center of it. She and I are family and I will love her until the day I die, whether that is 80 years from now or hundreds of years from now. Mom was always closer to Matt than to me. I don't resent them for it. Matt had taken care of us both for years, ever since Dad abandoned us. He got to spend more time with his mom before she was too busy working two jobs to support us.
This left me essentially a solo adventurer. I spent most of my time with friends, playing with Sarah, and being like a kid. Home is a place to come back to at night to find food and shelter. I never bring friends over and I spend as little time there as possible.
I feel stupid for doing it now, but I've always been ashamed. I never wanted my friends to find out we were poor. Whenever we go out, I do my best to avoid looking like I don’t have money to spend. If we went to eat, drink some water or suck Sarah's blood when no one was looking, I would say I wasn't hungry. When we would go out shopping for clothes, I would buy a nice dress, wear it once, and then trek across the city by myself the next day to return it. Movies? I've snuck into a movie theater more than once. I'm also pretty good at it, sneaking in past the ticket takers. No one has been to my house. I have never had to face a trial like this.
So ridiculous. So much energy wasted. I couldn't care less now.
Only two people understood. Matt was the first and one day he spotted my clothes. After I finally explained it to him, he offered to drive me back to get the reward each time, completely without judgment. I knew then that I could trust my brother with my life. It's a silly reason, but seriously. From that moment on, we have been a team.
The other person was of course Sarah and we have been best friends ever since.
Obviously, I should let more people know this secret. Successful two times in a row.
I stood up from the grass and walked back into the house, where Matt was stirring something in a bowl. It already smells delicious. "What are you doing?"
"Well, you said we needed more cookies." Matt laughed.
"Chocolate?" I asked eagerly.
"you are right."
Well, maybe today wasn't so bad after all.
＊＊＊
A few hours later, we were sitting on cheap plastic chairs in the backyard, munching on freshly baked cookies.
"Did you really have to shoot arrows at us?" Matt asked with a grin.
I shrugged. "It seemed like the quickest way to shut you both up."
"How are you going to explain the hole to Mom?"
"Well, I guess we can put the blame on you. This is probably the third time you've broken the stairs, right?"
Matt raised his eyebrows. I laughed. It's true - he's caused visible damage to our stairs twice before. At one point, I knocked down the supports on the same railing and threw a ball with my friends. With heavy basketballs and thin, old wood, it wasn’t hard to see this coming.
The second time, he tripped and hit his head on the end, knocking it completely off. Looking back, it wasn't that fun a time. More hea
t-
ushi
g-te
ifyi
g. At the same time, this was also the first and only time I called 911. The end result was okay, but...
It feels good to reminisce like this with my brother. I felt...peaceful. Happy, even.
So, of course, Matt had to ruin the mood.
"Carl's getting sicker, isn't he?" he asked quietly.
I had to clean a cookie out of my mouth before answering. "Yes," I finally said. "He thought of a way to go back."
My brother...reacted. I couldn't tell what it meant, but I saw his eye twitch. His voice remained steady. "what do you think?"
"Me?" I asked in surprise. Is he asking my opinion on going back? Or is it about Carl?
"I think you know him as well as I do now. At least you spent more time with him last year." His eyes studied me carefully. I hated that feeling, but I knew Matt didn't mean any harm to me. "What do you think?"
I hesitated. "Carl is at his breaking point. He could have gone either way. I don't know what I can do to guide him."
Matt sighed. "It's...unfortunate."
"No joke."
"I'll try to talk to him again."
"After everything went so well today?"
He frowned. "what else can I do?"
"Let him be now," I said. I'm not sure if this is right or wrong. This is what I want. Time to be alone, time to contemplate. Maybe, just maybe, I hope his search will be successful. He will find his way home. options.
"Okay," Matt said, with final determination. He adjusted his chair slightly and leaned forward, resting on his hands and elbows. "Now, let's talk about Sarah."
"How was your date, handsome?" I teased him. I'm glad there's been a complete change of direction...but Matt, of course, is still business-like.
"You told her," he said. It doesn't sound like an accusation, but I still feel like he's trying to express disapproval. I really feel like I don't deserve it.
"Yes, I did."
"We agreed, Jane."
"If there's anyone, absolutely anyone in the world that we can trust—" I started to say, but he raised his hand.
"It must be her. I get it. In fact, I think you did the right thing."
"So the World Health Assembly—"
"You should have told me."
His attempts to be so calm and understanding only made me angrier. This feels so condescending. I threw caution to the wind. I'm done. Now we are home. "Matt, you're not my dad."
"What?"
"It was my decision to tell her. I don't need your approval for everything I do. We are a team, but we are equals. Brother and sister."
"That's not me..." Matt said under his breath as I stood up. I need to leave. I need some space.
"Think about it." I picked up my bow, which I had brought with us to the yard. I feel very attached to it now. It's a symbol of my identity, even if it's not a bow I made with my own hands, sweat, and magic. The bow had come undone, so I put it in a bag and slung it over my shoulder. I double-checked the arrows in the quiver and the knife in my belt, then pulled my coat tighter. "I probably won't go home for dinner, okay?"
"……All right."
＊＊＊
I took the bus to the forest again. I covered the bag in a blanket so no one would notice the bag of arrows sticking out. I don't need a casual glance from another passenger, not today. Plus, the blanket keeps me warm and like I said before, it feels cold outside.
Even so, I still need to get to Sierraville Forest now. Something about this place draws me back. I went there this morning, of course, just to get away from the world for a while. I found myself needing to go there just to get some proper rest. There was a strange disconnect between my mind and my body at this idea.
My heart clearly longs to be outdoors and in nature. In my sunshine, we usually sleep outside with only a thin covering to keep out the rain and fallen leaves, on a soft bed in the gaps between the trees. I have had trouble falling asleep every night since we got back. Industrial noise from the suburbs isn't a big deal - I can keep it out if I need to. It's the wall. imprisonment. Isolated from the world around me. I feel like I won’t be able to feel everything anymore and it’s unsettling.
Meanwhile, when I walked into the woods behind my house, or into Sierraville Park, my body told me a different story. It practically screamed at me to wrap myself up and protect myself from the elements. Only now do I realize this is due to a lack of magic. While I sleep, I can't use Ettovira to protect myself from exposure, maintain a comfortable temperature, and escape the harshness of nature. My body needs a bed and a roof over my head, and solid walls to keep out the wind and other dangers that might lurk just out of sight.
Between the two of them, I was trapped physically and mentally, completely helpless.
The bus arrived at the stop bound for Serraville Park. I thanked the driver and set off, hopping through the bushes with ease. The memory of Sarah tripping over a tree root just now suddenly appeared in my mind. I giggled out loud. Yes, I admit it, I've been spying on them. Come on, if you had my skills and found them wandering your forest together, you would do the same.
I learned how to walk through the dense forest without any worries. There are rules in how natural forests grow, how trees take root, and how they shape the landscape. Once my brain settles on the pattern, I know where each step should be placed and where each fulcrum of each branch should grow. Of course, there are some surprises, but for the most part, I always know exactly where I am and everything around me.
Which means I immediately spotted the marks on the forest floor.
I didn't recognize the footsteps at first glance, the strange zigzag lines and evenly spaced grid. It took me a while to remember that pattern would appear on real-world shoe soles.
This might be interesting. I haven't tracked anything in a while. After all, it's hard to find on the cobbled streets of Kandel. Just a little practice will do the trick.
I set off, following the path as it faded into the bush. There were a few times where I nearly lost the trail, but other clues kept me on track. Broken branches, trampled bushes. An overturned stone in the stream got wet. I followed it like a wolf stalking its prey. I was determined to find the other side, if only for my self-esteem.
Instead, I ended up finding something truly life-changing.
The path led out into a small clearing no bigger than my height. Still, it was a perfect circle, a brown patch amid the lush rolling greenery around us. This can't happen naturally. I stopped and took a closer look because the tracks seemed to end here anyway.
Under a fern at the other end is a pure white rock. It seemed to glow, a beam of sunlight shining through the trees above. I squatted in front of it curiously.
I was so scared that I almost fell down. There, unmistakably etched into the surface are scratches carved with etolin - in its original form. Absolutely no one else in the world can read the words carved there. I looked up at the sky, at the stars in the universe that didn't even exist, and I wondered.
The stone describes in great detail exactly how three men traveled to Serraville. No more, no less. Forever.
I sat down in the open space. My head is still spinning. As if to remind me that in Oregon, a shadow covered the sun, and the air was full of Petrick's smell. Soon, the world around me became dim in the rain of hair and hair, and raindrops popped from the leaves. Falling down.
"What should I do if my fuck should take this?" I asked the sky.
The stars were holding their cunning conspiracy and unwilling to answer.
