Spindle Wood (COMPLETED)

Chapter 30

Pat was awake. He'd been so tired earlier and now... he wasn't.

He'd never had insomnia before, never had his sleepless nights. Sure, sometimes it'd take him a while to fall asleep but every time he closed his eyes now, he found them falling open to stare into space. He tossed and turned in bed so many times he was pretty sure there wasn't an angle he hadn't tried to sleep at.

So, now, he was stood at the window, watching the black sky and even blacker forest. There was no moon. No light aside from that of the dying candle on his window sill and the pin-pricks of stars.

Pat's mind started to wander. How many people were there up on those stars? His Papa had told him that they were all tiny suns like the one that lit the days here. So maybe no one was living on those stars.

How many people were up, like him, just staring at the stars? Was anyone? Was Logan?

"Course he wouldn't be awake." Pat told himself firmly, shaking his head a little. "He's got this whole big castle to sleep in. He's probably fast asleep, dreaming of whatever princes dream about."

What did princes even dream about? Because surely it wasn't the same as everyone else. No, it couldn't be. Not when they were that special.

Maybe they dreamed of the opposite of what normal people dreamed of. Where some kids would dream of waking up and finding out that they were royalty (Pat never understood this idea. Why want to be anything other than what you are?) princes might dream about waking up and finding they were just so. Just normal.

Normal. What a weird word. Though at this hour, everything seemed weird.

It had to be early morning. In a couple of hours, the sun would be rising in the East and Pat supposed he'd be awake to see it.

Odd, that thought. Being awake to see the sun set and then staying awake long enough to see it rise again. Very odd. But everything was odd to Pat's mind right now.

Had he already thought that? Everything was going around in circles, nothing made sense.

It was strange.

Surely he'd thought that before. Surely.

There was a creak on the stairs outside his room. Pat whipped around. Someone was there.

Pat's first thought was that it was Uncle Remus. He always went to bed late.

But, no, Pat had lain awake long enough to hear first Papa, then Dada and finally Uncle Remus climb the stairs to go to sleep. And none of them had gotten up since, not even to go to the bathroom. And the footsteps were coming up the stairs, not going down. Coming up to Pat's room.

So who was it?

Pat's second instinct was to hide. He grabbed Smoke off the bed and struggled underneath, holding his breath and making sure his feet and elbows were out of sight.

Feet and elbows, elbows and feet. They always caught him out in hide-and-seek games with Dada and Uncle Remus. Sometimes even Papa, if Dada could convince him. Which was very rarely.

Only this wasn't a game. This was very real because this was footsteps of someone he didn't know now coming towards his bedroom. This was his door being pushed open and feet clad in soft-looking leather boots padding across his floor.

Pat held a hand over his mouth, eyes wide beneath his glasses. The feet were right there, right in front of his face. This someone was looking at his empty bed.

With a disgruntled grunt, the owner of the feet turned to leave. They dropped their candle on the way out and it continued to burn on Pat's floor.

Pat opened his eyes slowly. He blinked and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He searched the floor for his glasses and slipped them on.

It was morning.

It was morning and he'd been asleep. In his bed, not under it. Smoke was there too, her wing clutched tightly in his hand, the way he always held her when he was trying to sleep.

The covers were pulled up to his shoulders, the way he was always tucked in and the candle on his window sill was brand new, like it'd been the night before.

So it had been a dream?

Eyes widening, Pat jumped out of bed and ran around his bed. If it was a dream, he had to check. He'd thought something was a dream before and it hadn't been. He had to check.

"Okay, so they were stood here." Pat muttered to himself, standing roughly where the intruder had been. "And they couldn't find me so they turned around," Pat spun on his heel, "and dropped the candle on their way out."

Pat's head snapped around. There!

There, on the floor, was a burn mark. Barely visible, like someone had tried to scrub it out, but there. A burn mark.

It hadn't been a dream.

Look at me, making a plot up from nothing. Neat.
Bye,
Blaize