Red Roses - (FCRAs 2016 Winner)

Dream Catcher

"The measurement has to be exact," Lorelie said as she shifted in her seat at the worktable, bent over several leaves, carefully peeling away strips of the stem with tiny-headed tweezers. "There's a fine line between sending a patient into a dreamless sleep and knocking them into a coma for three days – or longer."

On the other side of the table, Dr. Rowe watched her with hawk eyes, his quill trailing along the book he wrote in, noting down everything she did.

The whole process set Lorelie's heart racing.

Preparing this remedy wasn't anything unusual for her. She had done it dozens of times and had got the technique down to an art, but being watched was different. She felt as if she was being judged, even though Rowe didn't know how to make the remedy; he still made her feel like a student being tested by a teacher.

Once she had take exactly what she had wanted, she put in into a clean bowl and ground it up before setting it aside.

"You are quite efficient at your job, I see – assuming this remedy works," Rowe said and Lorelie shot him a look.

"It will work," she said bluntly, then looked down again. "What does Beldon dream of?"

"You can ask him that, those are his dreams to discuss with who he wishes."

Lorelie pursed her lips and shifted the candles closer to her. "Thank you, again, by the way, for looking after me when I was last here."

"But of course," Rowe said, "I am glad to see you left us no worse for wear."

"Who found me? I don't know how I got to Rose Castle."

"Found you? No one of the Castle."

Lorelie looked up. "None of the servants? Then how did I get here?"

"How? I believe the wolves brought you."

Lorelie dropped her knife and narrowly avoided stabbing herself in the thigh as she stared at him. She gaped at him and he raised an eyebrow at him.

"W-wolves?" she said, her voice suddenly breathless.

"Wolves, I assume you've seen them. The ones who are somewhat overgrown compared to normal wolves of course. Are you alright, you look pale."

"The monsters?" Lorelie cried.

Rowe's eyebrow rose higher and he folded his arms on the table, frowning at her. "Are monsters known for helping people?" he asked and Lorelie's jaw napped shut. "No," he supplied for her.

"But," she cried and he dipped his quill in his ink pot again.

"The young mistress mentioned you suffered some sort of trauma when you were a child."

"Who?"

"Rosalia."

"Oh."

"Did it involve the wolves?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes darkening, "I was attacked by them, I was just a child but that doesn't matter to beasts like wolves. Whatever you say, they're still monsters, animals, they don't think like humans."

"Yet I worry about how some humans think."

Lorelie looked at him and he shook his head and let out a breath. "It's late; I assume you shall be staying."

Lorelie looked towards the dark windows. "I suppose I'll have to. I had wanted to go to my grandmother's but never mind."

"We can arrange that."