Dream Walker

Chapter 3

"Hello? You awake?" Logan chuckles, I lift my head off of his chest. The warmth of Logan's chest made me not even realized that it was snowing where he took me. Flapping behind us was a pair of gorgeous black and silver wings attached to Logan's back. They glistened and glittered in the golden sunrise. I could feel the wind brushing against my face as we were gliding through the air. He shifted his head to gaze downward, searching for something it seems. He began to descend downwards, closer to the treetops covered with white sheets of snow. The sun has risen, and the sky is blue. I look around and what seems to be an ancient castle. The old castle stood on a rugged slope; sunlit snow drifts piled against half-ruined walls, the windows are dark and gaping. Its battlements glistened with ice in the crystal cold air, their rough outlines blending into the rocks behind. He flew me towards the massive oak doors and set me down on my feet to look around. From outside I can see towers, turrets, ancient stone walls, stone steps, circular rooms in towers. As a gentleman would, he opens the large door with ease and waits for me to enter before he steps in.

"Felicia, I'm guessing you don't know what this place is, do you?" I shake my head at his question. As soon as you enter right in front of you is a large painting with a small table in front of it. You have two directions to choose from. To the right of me is the entrance to the kitchen, and the left is a dining room.

"No, I'm sorry, and where are my friends?"

"Stop worrying about them. I know them better than you at the moment, and I know they're ok." He walks to a window in the dining room and looks out at the snowflakes. He seemed to be thinking, looking out onto the vast field that had a blanket of snow in front of the castle. The glass from the window started to fog up from his warm breath. Without him near me, I felt cold, like he was the only person that had the cure for this chill that ran up my back, I start to shiver. He looks over at me, noticing that I was cold. I untie my flannel from around my waist and wear it. The thin material was not enough to keep the warmth trapped inside. Logan took off his thick jacket while walking towards me and held it out for me to wear, not making eye contact. I look at the coat with a hesitation but remembering I really needed it, I take it.

"Won't you be cold?" I asked, looking into his eyes. Soft wisps of his pale honey hair swept past an ear and caressed the skin of his cheek and around his rather beautiful, deep dark honey colored eyes. They seemed to bore into me every time I looked into them and nearly lost myself. Suffering, loneliness, longing, desire; his eyes held all those deep-seated emotions and much more.

"No, I don't get cold easily unlike you, I think you need it more, Felicia." I realized how long I had been staring into his eyes and looked away in embarrassment. He must have seen me being flustered. A small smile played on his lips. It wasn't what he said, though his words were like vanilla pudding, sweet in their ordinary sort of way, it was the richness of his tones - luxurious and warm.

He gestures me over to him, and he walks to the dining room to sit down for a little. Great hall for feasting, rich tapestries of silver and gold hung on the walls, suits of armor standing guard, swords crossed on the wall, windows like high slits. This castle was extraordinary, to say the least. Down the center of the table was a runner with a unique design woven what looks to be by hand. Across the table was a floor to ceiling glass framed french doors with elegant patterns to make the sunlight make rainbow patterns all over the walls. Knowing that I am cold, Logan walks over to the door and closes it all the way, for it was open a little when we walked in. The polished silver cutlery was oppressive to the hand and shone brightly in the sunlight. At each place stood a tall empty wine glass and there were beautifully folded napkins to match the runner. All that was missing was the food and the guests.

I walked to a chair, and in front of me, Logan pulled a chair out for me to sit in, once seated he pushed me in. We sat down in seats next to each other, facing the gigantic window showing out to the front of the castle. I turn to him.

"So, If you don't mind me asking, what happened to me?"

"I don't think I should tell you. In my opinion, I think it's better If you found out about it yourself."

"But I want to know something. All I know at the moment is that I woke up to strangers who claim to be my friends, then you swoop in and take me away to some castle." Logan sits there in silence. "At least tell me who you are."

"My name is Logan as you already know. I am your best friend. We've been friends ever since you were young."

"How do I know you're my friend?" I playfully pass him with my arms crossed.

"You have a freckle in the center of your left hand." He gives me a 'know it all' look. I raise up my left hand a, sure enough, a noticeable freckle sits in the center of my palm.

"That also tells me that you could be a stalker." I raise an eyebrow.

"Well, then how do I prove it?"

"Nah, I'm just playing. I believe you." We both giggle.

"So could you also tell me about the three people back at the hospital?"

"Oh ya, Ross, Olivia, and Aiden. There also a part of our little friendship circle, well they used too." He frowns. "We all used to be childhood friends, but they kicked me out because of something that happened." I have a feeling that If I asked what happened, he wouldn't tell me so might as well keep quiet. "But because of what happened, I promised that I would take care of you."

"So, Is this your house?"

"Yes, let me show you around." We get up from our chairs and proceed to the hallway at the end of the dining room that led left and right. Logan points down the left hallway. "My room is the door to the right, the door to the left is the entertainment room, and straight ahead is the guest bedroom." He then turns around to the right hallway. "Your room is to the left, and the kitchen entrance is to the right." I've had a long day, I just want to go to bed. "If you need me, I'll be in my room, just give me a knock."

I reach the end of the hallway and open up the huge oak door with unique designs on it, leading to my room. I look in; the place is a perfect magazine cover. I'm afraid to sit in case I wrinkle the fabric or stain it with something I don't even know is in my pants. The couch is white but inlaid with an elegant silver silk. The white curtains are linen, the kind of white that is untouched by hands and devoid of dust. The furniture was high end. Every piece was hardwood and back to the Victorian era, but not a scrap in the room looked more than a few years old. The fabrics were spotless, and color coordinates in natural hues. It seemed comfortable and practical but by no means plush. There's a bookshelf full of famous poets. There are chairs arranged around the fireplace. Also a closet full of many outfits. The photographs on the wall are black and white, not casual family snaps, but arranged to look like such by a professional. The floor is a highly polished wood, dark and free of either dust or clutter. There was a bathroom in the room, I walked in it and saw gleaming granite countertops, walnut framed mirrors, walk-in shower room with an over-sized shower head, fluffy white towels neatly arranged, fuzzy bath mat, and a laundry basket. I entered my bedroom again and walked towards the closet looking for a nightgown. I find a red, wool, long sleeve, lingerie that almost goes down to the floor. I reverently rubbed my fingers along the luxurious mattress. I pressed my cheek to the cold, velvet pillows. The comforter was thick and irresistibly soft. I toppled into it, relieved to rest my fatigued body. Warmth and darkness enveloped me.