Witch of Iria

The padding of great paws

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I'm hovering above the scene, hanging listlessly among the trees. The evening is warm and drowsy, the leaves drooping almost with sweat. The clearing is decorated with flowers of every hue; shimmering scarlet and periwinkle blue are the brightest. A child with inky dark hair wanders around the flowers, grasping them with grubby hands. Her childish laughter pierces the air and annoys her mother, who stands at the edge of the clearing.

"Look at the red one! It glows." Her mother scowls and ignores the little girl, eyeing the trees anxiously.

As she toddles away, a figure appears beside Theodora. But I can't quite glimpse him. Only a faint silver radiance flickering.

"Theodora." The voice is soft, full of tenderness.

"So you have come," Theodora replies, her voice marked by fear. I float closer, daring to venture downwards. "Is he close? Must we leave? I can't go near Iria again. Please tell me he isn't coming."

The man grabs her hand.

"He's coming." The words break him. I still can't see his face but I can hear his pain. "I can't stop him, you know that. You must leave here. Run to Iria or close to it. Keep her safe."

Theodora glances at her child, still delighted by the flowers. Tears threaten to fall.

"We have to leave soon. She's so like you," she says softly. The man kisses her hands.

"I love her. And you. I'm sorry." He sounds anguished.

Suddenly the child squeals and the balmy air turns colder. The man gasps and Theodora tenses. For in the distance even I can hear the padding of great paws.

"He's coming," Theodora whispers.

"I must go." The man flees to the trees and the little girl shoots silver sparks up into the air, disturbed by the strange sound of a great beast stalking ever closer.

Theodora slaps the girl and pulls her up out of the flowers.

"Don't you ever use the silver power again," she hisses at her daughter who begins to wail. "Never again!"

I watch them leave, packing things up swiftly and running. I stay hanging in the trees. The remnants of silver sparks sit peacefully on a flower. Then a cold breeze brings the pad-pad of a monster and in one swipe it tears the flower apart.

I gasp and nearly tumble out of the bed. The sheets are tangled around my legs and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. I'm still half in the dream, expecting to hear the padding of that thing coming to the bedroom door. My mother was speaking to that man....who was that? And that was me running through the flowers. It's still dark outside and in the faint light, I notice a glass of water on a bedside table. I gulp it down and the coolness of it shocks me awake.

"Am I going mad?" I whisper to the darkness. My power is as awake as me, stalking through the room and lifting my hair on a phantom breeze. I still feel as if I'm locked into the dream and my body is in some in-between state. The great padding of paws...and silver sparks. My mind flashes guiltily to the last few times I've used that power. Only yesterday I used it to heal...and I've been using it steadily for the past few years. Ever since she left.

I summon a spark of it in my palm and watch it glow like a newborn star. The room isn't so dark anymore, the silvery light showing me everything. It must be a dream borne from guilt. That's it. It couldn't be a memory. Because I don't remember that at all. Even the forest was unfamiliar in the dream.