The In-Between

Chatty Kitty

Isla was not the sort of child to complain about anything that probably mattered. She had eaten food from dumpsters. She had stolen what she needed from stores. She had slept on cardboard, and beneath newspapers.

There had been times when Isla had been in foster care. Her entire life hadn't always been bad. There had been times when Isla could remember being genuinely happy. Certainly, the moments had been few and far between, but she cherished them despite the rarity. But if there was anything Isla would complain about, it was the dark.

Holding onto the body of the man who had rescued her from The Monster, Isla was grateful. She continued to be so, even as the jet black cloak wrapped around them. But when the last of the light vanished and Isla found herself in weightless blackness, she fought back the urge to scream in terror. Darkness was dangerous. Darkness was violence.

Yet, somehow, despite her initial fears, no malice shot forth from the darkness. Nothing touched her but the bony chill of the man's hand on her shoulder.

And then, her feet touched something hard and warm. The darkness parted like a curtain, settling into a cloak once again. Around them the warm glow of a home became visible. But Isla didn't release her rescuer. She held on for a moment longer, trying to understand what just took place.

"You are safe, now." The man spoke firmly, removing her hands from him.

"H—how...?"

The black cat—the one that had spoken when the man had repelled The Monster--rubbed against Isla's legs. She purred and then leapt up onto a nearby chair.

"Ryce has enchanted his cloak to transport him from anywhere in the Vale to our cottage." She explained casually.

A talking cat was so far out of the ordinary that Isla had no response at first. Enchanted cloak? Transporting? The Vale? She had no idea what was going on, or how she had managed to end up in such a place.

"Ryce?" Isla looked up at the man. His pale face had no immediate expression, but his emotions were oddly muted. The girl was used to everyone's emotions hitting her as soon as they came within a few feet of her. Did he not feel anything?

No.

That wasn't quite right. She felt a sense of perturbed irritation. Anger. Confusion.

But mostly, it was calm. The man's eyes met Isla's.

"That is my name." He said after a long moment of waiting for the girl to say anything else. He had been sure Isla had heard Gwel call him by his name, but the shock of her attack had probably masked any new information. "Sit." He ordered.

Isla backed up into a pile of cushions and pillows. She sat quite suddenly, jarring the fresh injuries to her back and shoulders. Hissing at the discomfort, the girl tried to cover herself. 

Nothing would hide the shredded remains of her top, or the layers of scarring that were presently visible.