White Orchids {BOOK 1 COMPLETED}

Chapter 11

I can see myself in the black stone slabs. My throat is looking worse every hour, like the blisters are about to spread down the shoulders. I shut out that thought, if it really had been that dangerous then Clover would have taken me directly to Blomst and not left me in my room for almost two days. At least I hope so, but after it starts to look worse rather than better, I start to doubt.

When I finally arrive at the moon-forest I listen to the tragic melody the bark is singing for me. I don't get relatively far before I hear voices. A man and a woman's, both sound human. I've heard the creatures speak before, it's always something different in them. Sometimes it sounds like there are multiple voices on top of each other, other times there's a darkness in them. Some of them reminds me of how it sounded like before Clover took me through the first gate, when our voices echoed throughout the entire world. When we went through something changed, it felt more human. Mine and Clover's voices were normal, but everything still felt wrong. Like my room, it looked exactly how it did when I was a child, like I had walked into a forgotten memory I'd put to the side. But it was wrong. It shouldn't have been so flawless, when I very well know that this is not my childhood's bedroom. It's just a copy – a flawless one, but a copy nonetheless.

I focus on the voices again. The woman's voice is cold and the man's strange. It sounds like he's speaking against fabric or his hand, like his voice is muffled by something. The tone and feeling in his voice is clear. Angry and fast, it also hides a tiredness behind it. Not the same kind that you feel when you haven't slept in a while. This was a depleted, exhausted feeling of defeat.

The voices lead me deeper into the woods, away from the road to the well. Stone slabs – grey, not black – takes me forward. Someone has tied golden strings in the moon-trees' branches like a fence that shuts out the rest of the forest.

A small meadow lies in front of me. The place is surrounded by the golden strings, and at the edge, near one of the trees, are two white occupied chairs and a table. I've seen the woman in the dining hall, she looks a few years younger than me. The blonde hair hangs down her back with a small braid braided from both sides of her head. She's dressed in a blue, medieval dress.

The other chair is occupied by something that almost makes me laugh. I even recognize it, it's from a children's tv-show that I and Emma used to watch when we were kids. The fur is light brown and there aren't any thumbs on the big paws. Its eyes are small and black, and the mouth is connected with the big black nose. On the table there is a wooden bowl filled with a thick, brown stew. I can feel the negative energy that he is releasing, it even makes me feel drained. Not in the same way Blomst's negativity had come out of her, it had been stronger and much more tangible. This was a man drained of all energy because he'd been stuck in a bear suit since he died. He must have realized early that he couldn't get out of it and that it would come back on if he tried.

I swallow my laughter; it doesn't feel as funny and ridiculous anymore.

"How do you expect me to eat this?" the man in the bear suit says and I can pretty much hear him growl out of annoyance.

"How you eat it is not my problem. You asked me to get you something from the dining hall and I did," says the woman.

"You could have chosen something that's easier to eat than a fucking stew."

"Oh, is that so? Next time you can get your own dinner."

I take a step closer when they haven't noticed me yet, not that I know why I'm here. The best would be if I let them be.

The bear turns his large head and stares at me, the mouth in an eternal smile. I feel the irritation and the tiredness behind the costume, and I can see the hands move inside of the large paws, too big to grab something without difficulties.