𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

𝟎𝟔. 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟔𝟔𝟔

That night you found yourself unable to leave Sarah's bedside. Neither her brother nor her father could know of what had transpired that night in the dark woods underneath the full moon. 

The thought of losing her prospects—her family's farm, what little dowry she had attached to her name—scared her into a nervous silence. You elected to stay the night, just in case she needed you.

Sarah spent the first hours of nightfall in a fitful sleep, tossing and turning with a thin glimmer of sweat painted across her forehead. You attended to her as diligently as you attended to your sister and with all of the same affections. Her scrappy wolf-dog was curled up in a tight ball at your feet, ears occasionally pricking up when you reached down the quilt to scratch his wiry coat.

You were caught in the realm between awake and sleep. You wanted to stay up in case Sarah had another nightmare, but you were struggling to keep your eyes open as it was, and it wouldn't be long until you nodded off altogether.

The sound of a door creaking made your head snap up. The candle at your bedside had burnt down to less than an inch of wax. You must've dozed off without even realizing it. Leaning over, you blew out the candle and laid back down. Sarah was snoring softly beside you and the sound was quickly lulling you back into your dreams.

There was another loud creak—the front door, perhaps. You groaned and pulled the quilt up over your shoulders. Mr. Fier always came home late. He was a drunkard, like Thomas. But unlike Thomas, Mr. Fier did little else but drown in his own sorrows.

But you knew drunk footsteps. You could thank Thomas for that. Drunk footsteps weren't slow and calculated, like the ones you heard in the hallway through the door. Your peaceful dreams were quickly clouded by worry and you reached over the blanket for Merryboy. As long as he wasn't barking up a storm, you had nothing to worry about.

You felt around the foot of the bed for a few more seconds before you realized that he wasn't there. Your eyes blinked open one at a time and you pulled yourself to your feet with a groan. Your body fought your mind's desire to inspect the noise. But you wouldn't forgive yourself if you slept on while something happened—so you shuffled sleepily toward the door.

"Merryboy?" you whispered. Maybe he needed to be let out. Or perhaps he had spotted a rabbit darting across the yard through the window. There came a muffled whine from the kitchen, then a scuffle, like chairs being knocked about. Your heart suddenly began beating out of your chest through your thin white nightgown.

You peered over the doorway to the kitchen cautiously, but there was nothing there. One of the stools near the door had been knocked over, and the fire had died down to glowing embers, but there was no Merryboy. No Mr. Fier. No Henry.

Something caught your eye in the corner of the room that you knew hadn't been there before. You pulled your dress up above your ankles and stepped closer to the wall that divided the kitchen from the storeroom. The wall was...open.

Like a small door had been cut out of the old wood planks. The door was propped open and a cool breeze blew across your cheeks from within. You reached out a hand through the threshold that was barely the size of your own body. A fairy door.

"Lamb."

Ripples of goosebumps rolled down your arms and legs as you looked up over your shoulder. Solomon Goode stood over you. His eyes were soft and kind, bathed in a warm orange glow. He smiled and guided you to your feet with his outstretched hand. When you stood at full height in front of him, he put a gentle hand on your shoulder. "You've ventured too far from bed. Tis dangerous."

"Solomon?" you mumbled, eyes still bleared with sleep. How could Solomon be here, in Union? He lived miles away, beyond the creek and over the rolling hills.

"A dream," he said, shepherding you back through the kitchen. Your steps were slow and unsure. Your mind could not focus on both walking and comprehending the situation all at once. Where was Merryboy? And how was it you came across Solomon of all people in his place?

You turned around to face him, steadying yourself with your palms against his clothed chest. His tunic was warm and smelt of earth. "You came through the door?" You whispered, eyes wide like a child being told stories of the beasts that stalked the fields whilst the farmers slept.

Solomon smiled and took your hands in his, bringing them up close to his face to kiss your knuckles tenderly. "Yes. Next time I will take you with me, I swear it. But now you must return to bed."

Perhaps you had become too well acquainted with your nightmares because you did not think to question as you slurred a goodnight to Solomon before reentering Sarah's bedroom. And the next morning when you awoke, you had all but completely forgotten about the little door, the missing dog, and the man who promised to rescue you from it all.

(A/N: I ALMOST FORGOT TO POST TONIGHT AHA. Happy almost Halloween!)