while Lightning explored the corridor.
Rushing back he said, “The library door is open. All the others are stuck shut.”
“What if I need to use the workroom,” asked Amber, “or need to get supplies from upstairs? Go to bed?”
The doors stayed firmly shut.
“I think you’re being allowed in to research your problem and only that,” said Smoke. “Bring her in, guys.”
By the time Amber reached the library Smoke was shaking out a duvet onto a daybed. Lightning returned carrying a tray. The familiar scent of chicken soup filled the air and Amber groaned, pressing her hand to her stomach.
“I can’t …”
“Eat up,” commanded Smoke, as Amber lowered herself onto the daybed. “The doctors said you were to get as much rest as possible.”
Fighting with them in her current state was useless. She forced herself to eat the first few mouthfuls. For a moment the soup threatened to come straight back up, then her stomach settled and she downed the soup, a roll, and herbal tea. She moved her head experimentally from side to side. The loose sensation was still there, but she could also sense a weight pressing on her from the outside. She stared up at the ceiling, frowning.
“What’s up?” demanded Smoke.
“I … I can feel something heavy pushing at me. Do you think the house is still trying to push me out?”
“Don’t think so,” Smoke glanced up and away. “You’re in. You’re family. Whatever the issue it has with you, you’ve been allowed in. Why?”
“Well, I can feel something. Actually, it’s kind of … comforting.”
“Comforting?”
“Yeah. Since the attack I’ve been feeling like I was going to fall out of my body if I turned too fast. Now I feel like I’m being held in.”
Smoke rubbed his chin as he stared upwards.
“Could be the wards. The house doesn’t like what happened to you and is trying to keep it contained. Has the side effect of keeping you together.” Smoke studied her for a moment. “Do you mind?”
“No. I feel better. Secure. Like a warm blanket.”
“Try and get some sleep. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”
She didn’t notice the tray being taken away or the cousins tucking the duvet around her shoulders. Within minutes she was asleep.
Amber woke a few times during the afternoon, blinking in the dimming sunlight. One or another of the cousins was seated across the room from her, keeping watch. Each time her eyes flickered over she was required to count fingers and name presidents – as required by the discharge orders. She was still too tired to argue with the house about permission to go to her bedroom, let alone going downstairs to her aunt’s workroom. Sighing she settled back to sleep.
* * * * *
The sky above her was a freakin’ weird vivid burning orange. Amber scuffed her feet over the rocks, raising little puffs of blue dust. Lifting her bare feet she stared at the blue stain on her yellow skin. She was naked. Not usual for her. She rarely if ever had naked-in-public dreams. She didn’t have that sort of vulnerability issue.
“Nice color scheme,” muttered Amber, and listened to her voice drop into the silence. “Not what I’d choose for a living room, but maybe … Well, no, wouldn’t like it in any room.”
She licked her lips and tasted the dry air.
Dirt, dust. The scents were vaguely familiar. They tasted like … cooked metal? Ah, yes. Like the time she visited a blacksmith in Williamsburg. The sooty metal tang stayed in her mouth for a week.
The dry overheated air was already pulling moisture from her skin. She glanced down at her hands watching the skin loosen and pucker. Her mouth was dry and her tongue stuck to the inside of her lips.
Wolf cry rang out to her left and she turned. She could see a pack paused, posing on the ridge.
Amber laughed.
Oh, puuleeeease. How classic!
Seated with the muzzle raised to the sky; that was definitely posing. All that was needed now was a glowing full moon hovering overhead.