Free Marysvale by Jared Southwick Page A

were pigs
and chickens in the pasture, fenced off in their own little pens. A
garden, with most of the vegetables now harvested, spread out to
the left of the house; and an orchard grew beyond that, nearer to
the lake. I found it quite beautiful and wondered how one person
managed it all.
    I continued my surveillance past the
orchard and lingered on the woods, perhaps still expecting some
gigantic creature to come barreling out into the clearing. Nothing
happened. Something was odd about all this: the monsters and Sarah.
My mind began to wander.
Why did they leave this place alone?
Maybe they weren’t anything more than just animals, like wolves,
afraid of civilization.
However, I doubted that. Oddly, they
moved more like humans than animals. Even though I may be giving
them too much credit, I had the suspicion that the trunk, which
blocked the path yesterday, was more of a trap than some random,
fallen tree. It was placed just right, where a rider wouldn’t see
it until he crested the hill, and it would be too late to do much
of anything, except run into it. I wanted to know more about the
monsters—they both horrified and intrigued me.
    There was also Sarah…. I liked her.
Something about her seemed familiar and made me feel at ease. But
why couldn’t I read her? It frustrated me. There was something
there; I just couldn’t see past the thick veil that blocked me out.
I wanted answers. I wanted to know Sarah, though I wasn’t ready to
ask her to open up her soul and mind, so I can find out her
secrets. I also didn’t want her asking about my gifts; especially
since I wasn’t sure I understood them myself.
    Still clueless, I got up and went to
check on Smoke. He was no worse for wear and seemed pleased to see
me. I fed him, refilled his water, patted him for a bit, and then
wandered down to the lake.
    The old boat was gone, and I concluded
that Sarah must have taken it out, along with the dog. Deciding to
enjoy the warm rays of the sun, I lay down on the dock and drifted
lazily into that strange state between sleep and
consciousness.
    The sound of splashing pulled me back
to reality. I sat up and watched Sarah row towards the dock. The
rickety boat, looking to be one stroke away from sinking, was so
small that it would probably be better suited as fish bait. She
was, once again, dressed much like a man, except now she wore a
three-cornered hat; and a large, wool vest covered her white shirt.
The dog rode precariously on the bow, nose sticking out as if
pointing the way. I did my best to stifle the fit of laughter
bubbling inside me.
    “ You’re alive after all,”
she called out.
    Still grinning, I hollered back,
“Sorry, I must have overslept.”
    “ There’s nothing to
apologize for. If I wanted you awake, I would have woken you. Rest
is the best thing you can be doing right now.”
    She rowed up close and tossed me a
line. I pulled the boat up to the dock and held it steady while she
and the dog got out.
    “ Thank you,” she said.
“Here, you can hold these while I finish securing the
boat.”
    Handing me three large trout, she tied
the small vessel to the dock.
    “ How’s your shoulder
feeling?”
    “ Doing better.”
    “ Good,” she intoned,
unconvinced. “Perhaps I’d better have a look though. I’ve found
that men tend to oversimplify things sometimes.”
    I laughed and we walked back to the
cabin where, under orders, I removed my shirt.
    “ It does look better,” she
muttered, more to herself than to me.
    I thought it looked worse—it was all
black and purple. However, I felt vindicated that it was indeed
doing better, and guessed the gash was sealing itself. Besides,
nothing seemed to be oozing, so that must be a good
sign.
    “ When do you think the
stitching can come out?” I asked hopefully.
    “ Not for a few
days.”
    I grunted.
    “ Why? Are you in a hurry to
get back?”
    “ Well…no. I can’t say I’m
looking forward to a journey back through monster-infested
woods.”
    “ I