Chapter 112: Day 111

Day 111,

Morning thought: As tempting as it is to just sleep in the archive every night while classes are going, I don’t have a good way of bathing or doing laundry there.  That’s going to be an annoying balance to strike.  

And now I have questions about the old archivist’s hygiene that I’d rather not think about given how I’ve inherited his bed and clothes.  

 

Well, it’s later than I meant to let it get, but I think I’m as ready as I’m going to be to start teaching tomorrow.  Which really just means I still don’t feel better but realize that any more prep isn’t actually going to do anything but stress me out.  

I’ll be pushing it trying to get to the house before dark, but I’d like to get one last bath and sleep in a larger bed before I wind up stuck in the archive for a week.  Also, I want to bring that blanket back with me.  It’s been a while since the last mist night and judging by the moon we should be due for one any day now.  

 

Once more I find myself climbing out of bed, uncovering the lamp, and setting to writing so that I might settle my nerves enough to sleep.  

It started to rain as I was about to leave the library.  Figuring it hasn’t been lasting long lately I chose to wait it out.  Although I proved to be correct in my assumption, it was still enough of a delay that it was dark by the time I turned off of the main road and on to the dirt-turned-mud that led to my house and beyond to the farm.  

It was not long after that I heard the growl from the tree; that weird droning rumble that had imprinted itself upon my memory on that other night I chose to walk alone late at night.

For a moment, I felt that involuntary tension of a body readying itself for fight-or-flight.  

And then I remembered nothing had been found before.  It was only the nature sprite.  

Fear gave way to that “Nice job, you got me,” fusion of amusement and irritation.  As I continued on my way I chided the sprite for its recent reuse of gags.  First the scratching and now this; was it running out of material? And really, it could stop the growling already?  The “keep doing the thing long enough and make me worry it’s not a prank this time” bit had been done before too.

I made the last turnoff onto the path to the house.  

The trees opened up.  

A figure with glowing eyes was perched on the porch, the silhouette of its branching antlers backlit by the lamp I left in the window.

The nature sprite was in front of me.  

The growling was still behind me.  

I froze.  

I processed.  

I ran.  

The pitch of the droning shifted.  Followed.  

I neared the house.  

The sprite shrieked.  Sprang.  Towards me.  Past me.  

I slammed the door open.  Slammed shut behind me.  Locked.  Collapsed against it.  

Noises outside.  Territorial ones.  Hunting ones.  

Mutual intimidation.  

Too stunned  to move to the window for a look.  Panic overrules curiosity.  I can curse it later.  Best not risk drawing attention to myself in the moment.

More noises.  Angry ones.  Visceral ones.

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Pained ones.

Sprites don’t like to share their toys.

Silence.

How long?

Force myself to stand.  Start to move to the window.

A knock at the back door.

Jump and nearly fall again.

Cautiously make my way back.  Grab the broom on the way.  Did the nature sprite ever knock before?

Creep over.  Crack the door open.  An unsteady glow filtering in.

Maiko.

Concern on her face.  Cracked crystal mostly hidden in her hands.

Relief.

Drop the broom.  Slump-lean on the wall.  Thank her.

Maiko entered the house, closing the door behind her.  Locking it at my reminder/request/plea.  She helped walk me back to the couch, asking if I was alright and explaining that she’d felt the call of me being in danger through the bracelet.  She’d heard some kind of noises like animals fighting through the trees but by the time she’d gotten here it stopped.

Over the next several minutes I insisted that I was alright now and unharmed, and tried to explain what just happened the best I could.  I asked her if she’d ever heard noises like that before.

Once, long ago as a child.  She never learned what it was or why it stopped following them, but her mother had always said to be quiet and wary, but not afraid when it appeared.  Didn’t stop her from having nightmares for weeks though.

The corner of my mouth turned up.  That didn’t seem like the sort of thing she’d normally admit to.  Did I really look and sound that in need of comfort?  I felt like it at any rate.  I appreciated the commiseration.  Thanked her for it.

She wasn’t sure what I was thanking her for.

Being here, I told her.

A pause.

I asked her if she’d spend the night.  It’d put my mind at ease, knowing I wasn’t alone here tonight.  And if… whatever that was… is still out there and annoyed at not catching me, it might not be a good night to be alone out in the woods either.

Silence while an answer formed.

She said yes.  And then added she was starting to get tired of being woken up by rain, so maybe it was time to take me up on the offer of moving in.  At least until the rains begin to leave again.

I wanted to hug her.  Wasn’t sure how comfortable either of us were with that kind of contact.

So instead I just stood (steadier now) and said I’d get the couch blankets out.

Went to bed myself shortly after that.  Couldn’t sleep.  Got up and started writing.  Now we’ve gone full circle.  And tired enough now that writing is difficult.

Perhaps dealing with a roomful of small children isn’t so bad by comparison.

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