The Woods-Wanderer

Chapter 6

Night came sooner than Ilya had hoped. They had accomplished frighteningly little, due to Ilya's inability to walk six feet without tripping and Zale's inability to read a map. After a full day of walking and little rest, they were only an eighth of the way to Truss.

Though they hadn't traveled far, Ilya's bones ached. Zale scouted out a good place to camp for the night, and she collapsed into a weary pile. She thanked the stars for the padding the styxsilk provided. From the ground, she heard a sound somewhat like a contained scoff. She sat up, indignant. Zale, a too-innocent look plastered on his face, was carrying firewood. Too tired to think of a witty jab, Ilya sank back onto the ground as the wolf struck a match. Soon a fire roared, and all thoughts of aching muscles and Trussian princes were gone, banished by the lovely, lovely, warmth...

Ilya was back in Gallyn, back in the courtyard she had once played in. But something was off. There was no one there. No maids clucked like mother hens. No court members parading by. Just eerie silence. The sky was a pale, indecisive gray. Ilya hated the color gray.

"Mother?" she called. "Father? Laureline?" Her voice rang out into the hollow palace. No one was there at all, she realized. She was alone.

Until she wasn't.

A soft, whispery noise came from behind her. Ilya whirled around to see something vanish behind a curtain. She cautiously stepped around a pillar. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a bluish light disappearing into a nearby hallway. Could it be? A wish? But here, in the palace? Ilya ran, her long skirts tripping her as she went. The wish gained speed, but so did Ilya, and soon she was sprinting down hallways and stairs, and then she was

falling

falling

falling

down an endless staircase. She tumbled to the bottom in a tangle of arms and knees. The wish was taunting her now, hovering in front of her face, just out of reach.

Then, behind the glowing blue orb, a face appeared. A terrible, evil face. Ilya screamed and could not stop screaming. She turned and tried to run, but the staircase was gone, and someone–something– was gripping her arm and would not let go–

And she was awake, sweating and struggling to escape the iron-like grip of– Zale? He set her down gently, untangling her cloak from around her. Ilya shook her head, dispelling the last of her nightmare. Had it really been just a dream? It had seemed so real, her fingers barely skimming the wish, just barely...

She blinked. Embarrassment set in as she realized that she was at least thirty feet from the fire and must have been sleepwalking– and with her luck, sleeptalking– the whole time. Grumpily, she picked herself up and trudged over to the campfire, where Zale was watching her with a strange look on his snout. Ilya, though not particularly adept at reading canine expressions, thought it looked like something akin to sympathy. But the moment passed, and a smirk settled over his wolfy features. Ilya scowled.

"Wipe that smile off your face. Don't tell me you've never had a nightmare."

"I have," the wolf said thoughtfully, "but I've never screamed and started running to nowhere in the middle of said dream." Ilya resisted the urge to pout.

"You don't know what I was dreaming about," she said, layering superiority over the shake in her voice.

"A wish, I'm guessing, since that's what you were saying over and over," Zale said airily. "But that's just me." Ilya wanted to punch his furry face, but knew that wouldn't go well. She turned over in what she hoped was a dignified manner. Minutes passed, and she assumed the wolf had fallen asleep. Quietly, she moved to lay on her back, facing the stars.