I stumble to the washbasin on shaky legs, gripping the edge of the bowl until my knuckles turn white. Looking in the mirror, my face is a near replica of the day before. Sunken eyes with dark smudges. But they also look a bit wild and frazzled. I truly look spooked.
I scoop up the chilled water between cupped palms and splash my face a few times until the cold starts to pull my mind away from the nightmare and into reality. Drying my face with the towel beside the basin, I turn to the armoire where Irummage for another shift dress. Something comfortable for the unseasonably warm day and a trek through the forest.
It’s a wonder that with these recurring nightmares I still feel so at home in the forest. In the nightmares I’m always so anxious which I think is an effect of the dream itself, but it hasn’t done anything to put me off going into the woods around my own home. I know them well enough that there’s no chance I’d be living out a real-life version of it.
Once I’ve dressed and wrangled my hair into some semblance of control, I head out into the kitchen, where I’m not surprised to see Fleur already flitting around, preparing ingredients for the feast.
She’s going to be like this all day. This is her holiday. She loves everything about preparing the feast and what Samhain stands for. Even if it does have a not-so-mundane origin. I would offer to help, but every time I’ve offered my assistance in the past, she’s always shooed me from the kitchen, all but shoving me out the front door and told me not to come back until it was nearly time for dinner. When I was around fifteen, I finally stopped trying. I typically grab the latest book I’ve been reading and take it with me into the woods.
“Morning, dear,” Fleur calls over her shoulder as I step into the room. I swear this woman has eyes on the back of her head because I didn’t think I even made enough noise for her to hear me enter the room. She somehow justknows.
“Morning, Aunt Fleur. Anything I can do to help?” I ask, moving through the kitchen as I only half-listen to the response I know is coming.
“No, no, you go off and do your thing.” She waves me off, as expected. “Come back for dinner. And don’t forget to bring Thomas with you if he still insists on joining.”
“Okay, but you know where to find me if you need anything,” I offer. I’ll always offer, even though I’ve stopped pushing.
I snatch a bread roll from where it’s cooling on the tabletop, ignoring the hiss of scolding coming from Fleur as I head back to my room, looping my basket’s handle through my arm as I go.
I walk over to the bed and lift the mattress. Sitting there, tucked between the mattress and the wood of the bed frame is the weathered, leather tome I’ve been reading lately. The gold foil that was previously gilding the front cover has all but worn away to the point that I can’t read the title anymore. I grab the book, tucking it up under my arm to keep it out of sight. Dropping the mattress back down, I turn to the vanity to grab two red candles, a small tinderbox, and a hip flask of water, tossing them into my basket.
Stopping at Fleur’s little workstation in the corner of the living room, I grab a piece of parchment and charcoal to scrawl out a quick note for Tom about what time to be at dinner. I’ll drop it off at his door on my way out to the woods. I know for a fact he’ll still be asleep, and even if he isn’t, this isn’t something I want his company for.
“I’ll be back!” I call to Fleur as I tuck my feet into my shoes that are stashed by the front door.
She gives me a look of sympathetic understanding over her shoulder, knowing full well where I’m headed. “Make sure you’re home before sundown.”
“I will,” I say as I step out into the crisp, autumn air.
It’s time to pay a visit to my parents.
