The Wise Women

Chapter 5

Nesta covered her changing face with her indigo-nailed hands and hurtled towards the back of the post office. The crowd's shocked gazes pierced her skin like darts. She ran up the stairs two at a time, toes cramping against her boots as her feet grew bigger.

The unfamiliar long blue fingers fumbled to unlatch her bedroom door. She dived inside and slammed it behind her. 'No more letters today,' Mrs Crosby's shrill voice announced from below. 'Nesta . . . er . . . Nesta's been taken ill. Come back tomorrow, please.'

Heart racing, Nesta stood, her back pressed against the door. Her shoulders heaved, bare skin against wood where her tunic had ripped. She gasped for breath.

Anyone who's a bit different is bound to become a target. Mrs Crosby's words from the night before echoed in her head.

Nesta slapped her forehead.

What can I do? How can I get myself back?

She vaguely remembered asking herself the same questions only two nights earlier. It seemed so long ago now. Like another lifetime. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. But there was no thinking straight. Her brain was scrambled, filled with Delphina's fear and fury.

She was losing herself. Her memories were fading away. She tried to catch onto them but they dissipated like a dream at the moment of waking.

Nesta threw herself forward and yanked open the wardrobe door. Her stomach churned as she ran her blue fingers over the hanging tunics. It was like looking in a stranger's wardrobe. She grabbed a folded undershirt, held it to her face and inhaled. No spark of familiarity ignited.

A sob rose within her chest. The garment slipped from her hands. She spun around, her too-long arms flailing, knocking a pile of books off the bedside table. Falling to her knees, she snatched them up one by one — Legends of Ancient Skaliff, Myths of Moonrun, A History of Quain. She recognised not one. The titles blurred as her eyes filled with hot tears. She swallowed down the howl which threatened to burst from her throat and wiped her eyes with her tunic cuffs. Her gaze raked the room for something, anything that would jog her memory.

Where am I?

No answer came.

Can't breathe. Air. I need air.

She staggered to her feet. As she turned towards the window, she caught sight of her reflection in the looking glass. Wide fear-filled violet eyes stared back at her. Fat tears ran down blue cheeks, a high forehead creased with pain.

Who am I?

The features crumpled before her eyes. She collapsed on the bed and sobbed and sobbed until exhaustion overcame her.

*****

The door creaked. She heard the sound as if from far away. Her eyes cracked open. The room was bathed in silvery moonlight. A small dark shape moved noiselessly from the doorway into the room. The mattress dipped as it jumped onto the bed beside her. Then something rough and wet scraped her tear-stained face and a familiar animal smell filled her nostrils. A safe, comforting smell. With the smell came a name.

'Finn!'

She said it aloud. A wet nose nuzzled her under the chin.

Another name.

'Nesta!
My name is Nesta!'

And with this name came a memory. Lying in the dark. Head throbbing. Something wet dripping onto her face. A metallic smell.

No! Don't think about it!

She dragged herself back to the present and at that moment, her mind surfaced from the haze and she remembered everything.

Now she knew what she had to do.

She levered herself into a seated position on the bed, back against the wall, long legs crossed and rested one hand on Finn's soft head. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and placed her other hand over her heart.

In your heart you will find your own true self.

She breathed.

She focused all her attention on her heartbeat and waited to come back to herself.

Thump, thump, thump.

But this time nothing happened.

There was no moment of connection. No feeling of everything clicking back into place.

She took a deeper breath, pressing her chest harder this time. Her nails dug into her flesh, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Still nothing.

Nesta opened her eyes and squinted at her hands in the moonlight. Long fingers, dark nails. Pulse quickening, she raised them to her face and felt the strong Erithean features. The tiny life stirred in her belly.

I can't turn back!

Bile rose in her throat.

Help! Oh God! I need somebody to help me!

As soon as the thought had formed, an image came to her – Leonia's face looking down from the cart, extending her hand.

Leonia!

Leonia could help, she was sure of it. She didn't know how she knew but in that moment she'd never been more certain of anything. She had to go to Leonia and she had to go now.

Finn followed behind as she crept out of her room. Stepping over the creaky floorboards so as not to wake the Crosbys, she sneaked across the landing and tiptoed down the stairs.

As her booted foot touched the last step, she stopped dead in her tracks, hit by a sudden realization.

This was it.

She could never come back here again. How many people had seen what had happened to her today? How many people had seen her transform into another person . . . as if by magic? How long would it be before someone informed Martin Archer and the guards came to arrest her? She gripped the banister as an unbearable sadness welled up inside her. Her heart felt ready to break - it was happening all over again. Just like before, she was fleeing the home she loved, running away in terror and despair. Tears rolled down her face at the thought of leaving Ralf, Mrs Crosby, Finn . . Finn . . .

Finn! What are you doing?

The terrier was sniffing and nuzzling at something on the doormat, scraping at it with his paw. Nesta crouched down to get a closer look in the dim moonlight. It was Ralf's canvas haversack. She extricated it from the dog, hauled it onto the writing table and untied the string that held it closed. As it fell open, she was engulfed by a wave of love so tender it took her breath away.

The haversack was packed full with clean tunics and neatly folded undershirts, crisp white hankies, a fresh toothstick, some chestnut buns wrapped in greased paper, oatcakes, apples, hunks of cheese, quills, writing paper and a bottle of black ink.

Thank you, Mrs Crosby. Nesta's heart was suddenly too big for her chest. Her breath stuttery with silent sobs, she hoisted the haversack onto her back, swung her cloak over the top and fastened the neck clasp. Finn wagged his tail and raised his head to meet her lips as she kissed him goodbye. Her gaze travelled over the post office one last time -  the ink-stained writing desk, the wooden counter, polished smooth with use, the overflowing sacks of letters.

Eyes brimming with tears, she pulled her hood over her face, slid the door-bolt across and stepped out into the night.

Thanks for reading The Wise Women 😊

Please vote ⭐️ and comment if you'd like to 💬 I love reading your comments. Please let me know if anything doesn't make sense.

Stay safe and well 🌸

✨💫🌿⭐️🌺💛🌺⭐️🌿💫✨