Risk

Chapter XLI

Jasta woke up when she realized that the dream wasn't actually real. She was confused for a moment because it had felt so much like real life that she couldn't believe it wasn't. She sat up among her bed of grey fern plants. The sun no longer shone through the trees. The light was now silver instead, telling her that the night had come. With it came a chill, and Jasta shivered.

She decided with a sudden burst of resolve to go to the cabin. It wouldn't hurt anything, and maybe revisiting the place from her dream might allow her to think more clearly. She knew it was a long shot even as she stood up to head out, but she didn't very much care. It was another thing to excuse her from going home just yet, and for that she was grateful. She didn't have to get into any specifics.

So off she went. She took an arcing path through the woods to avoid the village, which lay directly between her and where she wanted to go, but going around would hardly take much longer. She barely needed to see where she was putting her feet, for they seemed to have minds of their own. They picked out their own route, twisting her through the trees and to the exact place she wanted to go.

The leaves covering the ground were soon overtaken by the thicker shrubs and foliage of the other areas of the woods. Vines crept up tree trunks, and the going got a bit harder. It wasn't too hard for her, though, and the night hadn't progressed noticeably towards dawn before she had reached exactly the place she wanted to.

The cabin loomed dark and as empty as ever through the shadow of night. She walked forward and pushed the door open. The worn leather hinges hardly made a sound, and Jasta thought they might be near to breaking any day now, especially with her opening the door.

She walked in and looked around. She couldn't see anything except for an oblong stretch of the dusty floor where the moon cast its light through the open door. She stepped further in and willed her eyes to adjust to the lesser light.

Soon enough, she could dimly see the almost-square outline of the room.

The shadows seemed to fill the room. She could almost imagine that the particularly dark area in the corner of the room was a bed, and the shadows hovering in the hearth might be a pot. A stream of moonlight coming through a broken window cast an illusion of what might seem to some to be a table.

Jasta smiled at the thought that the shadows of night were filling the house, even if it was empty at all other times. At least it was put to use by someone.

But now that she was done with her whim of fancy, and had again seen for herself how empty the cabin was, her situation came back to her, and she again felt nearly torn in two by the decision. Each side of her emotions was beating down on the other, and she feared that if she didn't grant one side the victory soon, they would simply kill each other into nothingness, and she would be left as empty of feeling like a lowly rock or stick that was trampled underfoot on a path without so much as a care.

She walked back out until the moonlight kissed her cheeks, and she sat down on the narrow front step. It was perhaps the only thing besides the hearth and chimney that was made of rocks. They were cemented together by clay—some of which had hardened to something like rock, and some of which had simply worn or chipped clear away.

A breeze rattled the branches above her, and the shadows quivered on her face. She could see the partial globe of the moon high above the treetops. A few branches crossed the sky underneath it, cutting it even further into fractures of its fullest form.

She wanted to simply wish away her troubles. If only she could become a beam of moonlight, silvery and pure. No trouble other than finding a way to light the ground beneath and between the trees would ever befall her.