Chapter 2: Dreams

“Every block of stone has a statue inside it, and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”

-Michelangelo

***

Kimberlain stared at the familiar ceiling of a tent faintly glowing from within, pitched in a dark room that stretched uncomfortably wide, in which Mr. Tent was her salvation. Then there was the dark. Without Mr. Lamp, she’d be lost between scattered books and wooden animals, so keeping him fed was a chore she didn’t mind doing. The sun was fast asleep, so should she. I can’t, though.

Earlier, she didn't sink into the snow for the first time. Only for a moment, but a moment nonetheless. It was as frustrating as it was satisfying. Birdman was right yet again, so much that her sigh adopted his cadence. There was comfort in her pajamas, vibrant and baggy, which contrasted him and those dueling garments of his. Once a week she’d be made to wear them, one too many apparently. I’ll never wear them again, the oath-breaker vowed.

Me Walter. Me always right. He never said that. Acted like it, though. It kept her eyes peeled and her mind restless. Not to mention the other questions she had in mind—visitors, training, the book she stole. Not the chronicles that kept her up last night, but a diary she never opened, the one in her very hands.

I took two books from his room, the chronicles and this. He doesn’t even know! A cocky giggle marked her vengeance. He didn’t pick her up until the sun had set, so she had to thaw her lower half in the hot cabin. Maybe I should read a little, just to see how he’ll react. Upon careful thought, she shook her head.

Silence unveiled the midnight crickets. They echoed her thoughts to the point of unbearable. She had to move. She must. To reclaim the feeling. To prove Walter wrong. It’s not as if she hadn’t snooped out late before…

Kim rose and padded to the door.

Lamp ahead. He was weaker than usual, and the oil was brimming. Hm. Unsurely, she shrugged, then cracked doors open to peer into the hallway. Light reached a few hesitant steps ahead, both ends swallowed by creeping dark. She stepped out anyway.

tap. tap. tap.

Footsteps echoed. For the first time, she heard herself truly. Breath rising. Heart pounding. Skin brushing. Once the hall of tireless adventures, now the river of unsettling questions. Was it always this big? How come it feels cramped? The crickets are so loud.

Out the tall windows—No stars. No moon. Just black oozing into the river of darkness. The paintings. Once still, now different. Eyes trailed her every step. When confronted, she swore they averted. Every time.

She hurried—

THUMP!

Almost a scream—her hip bumped the vase. She caught it. Barely. As it steadied, her gaze fell upon the bust. He didn’t look away. He glared. Daunting. Crying ink. His tears submerged her soles. A chill went up her spine.

What is happening?

She backed away slowly, step by step, until her hand met the grand hall door. The knob resisted her trembling fingers. As if warding her off. Warning her. She peeked despite.

Creaaak—

Darkness. She stared. Waited. Nothing. Then—A voice. Familiar.

Walter?

A grin, teeth gleamed from within. A hand snatched her face—

She shot up, breath caught in her chest. The tent’s ceiling held shadows of animals. She felt books at the back of her head. Exhale of relief. It was just a dream… wasn’t it?

She touched her face. Still intact. Still her… My cheeks hurt.

***

Inside the winter pines, Kimberlain pointed a broadsword to Birdman, a glint of determination in her eyes. Unmoved as usual, Walter held a black rod from a distance. The air was harsher than yesterday, the cumulus foreboding. It was a terrible day, but perfect for training.

Kimberlain made the first move.

She rushed towards him, swung with both arms.

Steel clashed against steel, sparks flew, blade chipped.

He received with the rod, arm steady and unfazed.

A couple more strikes from her: Up—blocked. Left—blocked. Right and under—both blocked.

She took a step back to catch her breath, but it was Walter’s turn, and he was relentless.

He mirrored the pattern as if to mock: Up—blocked. Left—blocked. Right and under—both blocked.

Her arms were jelly, his were steady.

Walter’s strikes were deceptively heavy, blocking one demanded everything she had.

They added to the sequence.

Jumbled it and repeated.

Add-jumble-repeat—that was how their bout went.

They sparred… thirty times? Forty? She was too busy catching her breath.

“Good. You’re stronger, but Stamina is still weak.”

What does he mean stamina? We just fought until noon!

“Let’s check speed—"

Walter vanished in a blur.

A child left behind. The world, not Kim.

She saw leaves, branches, rod, at the corner of her eye, then tilted head to dodge, hopped back, a mistake caught midair.

He lunged forward, three blows.

She saw. Too late.

One connected, the world caught up, her rib screamed.

“FUCK!”

“… Where did you learn that word?”

“A stupid book.”

“You did read my diary.” He pulled it out of his coat. “I told you not to steal. You read this, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t!”

“I should praise you, however. Your Atr bursts improved as well. We’ll improve endurance next.”

Kimberlain groaned. More laps around the forest. The dream this morning was nothing when compared.

“What is this for?”

“Hm?”

“The training. What is it for?”

“… Punishment. For the book.”

He answered a question she didn’t ask, and it was ridiculous. “Really? All this for the stupid book?”

“You’re right. I should train you instead.”

***

Standing at the edge of the woods, a panting Kimberlain stared at the short-lived mist of her breath, then toward the highest peak. After the spar, he made her run through the forest until the sun yawned. And now, he wants me to go there? Without help?

Brows furrowing, she faced the loose snow once again. Her frustrating memories were jeering jesters. Eyes sank while uncertainty rose. Can… can I do this?

A pointless worry. Yesterday, she conquered it. Yesterday, she was above ground. You can do this. You’ve done this before.

She took a deep breath.

Pressed a foot to the snow.

It crunched, then slowly descended.

She retracted immediately.

Walked a few steps back.

Another breath. Focus and control. Another press.

Stability, the first since forever.

She beamed, without explosion this time.

The other foot followed.

Before she knew it, she was standing on the snow.

One step became two, then three and four as she hastened. Fifth and sixth, seventh and eighth, she stopped counting and started running. Her eyes looked ahead at the familiar landscape as the passing gust brushed numbingly against skin. What was once the sea of despair, now a bridge to more adventures.

She smudged across the sea of loose powder, never sinking this time. The landscape passed her by. Cliffs, hills, ravine—all covered in snow. It pained her to admit, but today’s training was fun for once, a thought that would last ten minutes.

The first minute, she ran with the biggest smile. Still running on the third. By the fifth minute her brows were furrowing once more. She was completely sour by the tenth. Caw, the image was the nail in her coffin. There was absolutely no point in continuing. But for some ungodly reason, when Walter says, Kim must do. Especially when he’s serious, which he always was these days. Tread the lines, never cross them.

Huffing and puffing, her gaze landed on the peak once more. A groan. She remembered why she was there in the first place, a stupid book. That made her pissed. She saw the sky, the heavy clouds, thunder within. Her ears rang, thoughts blazed.

Was me borrowing the book again that big of a deal? Is that why he’s doing this? Sure, I didn’t ask him, but I was gonna return it! I swear I was going to! Is the book more important than me?

Kimberlain paused at the entrance of a deeper forest. Finally, she could stop ‘tensing’ just to travel. Fury and fatigue turned her as red as chilis. A bead of cold sweat dropped from her chin to the ring wrapped around her pinky. The ring. He always seemed to know where she was.

“Never take it off.”

After glancing both ways, she tore the dastardly thing off and yelled, “Stupid Walter! Making me do all these difficult, useless things… all because of that stupid book! When I get there, I’ll stick it up your ass! Stupid! Idiot… Motherfucker! I hate you!”

Rustle.

Shock made her jump on the spot. Her eyes peeled. She spun towards the noise—nothing but dead shrubs.

No way he heard me, I took the ring off.

“Walter?” She called. The air passed by awkwardly. It gave her time to breathe. “Did you… did you hear what I said?”

Silence…

“… I was kidding when I said I’d, y’know, stick it, haha.… I dunno. I’m tired. Of everything, really.” She sat. Gave in. “You’ve been different. Weird. Really weird. It’s kinda scary. Walter? Are you angry? You are, aren’t you? You can’t blame me!”

Her voice softened.

“You… you never talk to me anymore. Actually talk. About the book, I was curious about you. I wanna know where you came from and how old you are, that’s why I took it. That’s all. And I never even read it. That’s why I was a little upset. Just a little bit. You get upset too, right? A-and I don’t hate you! Never! I’m sorry... Walter? Are you there-”

RUSTLE~

Movement again, between the trees and brittle bushes. A glimpse in her peripheral, then nothing. Before she could react, another rustle to her right. Then behind.

“Walter?” No response. Why wouldn’t he speak? He-

She ceased the thought. This… couldn’t be him. Outside of hide-and-seek from god-knows-how-long, he never hid. Not from her. And he always, always answered.

Come to think of it, she’d never gone this far before.

Her heart raced. She thought about the ring, but Walter’s nagging was the last thing she wanted. She crept toward the tree where the rustle was last heard. Behind it—still empty… aside from the flattened snow.

… Paws?

It trailed upwards. She followed.

Bark. Marks. Branches.

Maw.

SNAP!

Kimberlain’s scream tore through the forest.

A wolf twice her size with scale-like fur dropped from the tree.

Its jaws, jagged with teeth, clamped shut in her shoulder.

Maintaining its grip, it contorted behind her, then bore down with crushing weight.

She held her breath to wrestle, to pummel with what little strength she had.

Futile attempts.

Dulled by exhaustion and awkward angle, they landed like flesh against stone. The beast only bit harder—another sickening snap of bone.

She forgot how to scream.

Desperation took her hand. It thought for her when she couldn’t, then her fist found the wolf’s right eye somehow.

Once, it snarled.

Twice, it reeled.

Thrice, a yelp set her free.

She scrambled behind the nearest pine, chest heaving, pain everywhere.

Her touch, meant to soothe, only made the burning worse.

She glanced back.

Thick blood dripped from the canine’s snout, her blood, glistening like wet pigment. It ran in slow rivulets over the snow, crimson bleeding into white until it darkened to maroon.

The beast steadied with a shake, locked eyes. The silent exchange held a promise of death.

Above them, sparrows once again. They saw two points below, black and amber, darting between the trees.

Kim’s left shoulder sagged and wailed with every move.

The scaled wolf was closing in despite its bulk.

Trembling hands rummaged her pockets, then froze.

The ring… it’s not here.

“WALTER! HELP!” She yelled in vain.

The beast snarled, lunged—a solid punch fended it.

The jolt through her knuckles felt satisfying… until the pain.

Raw abrasions. Torn skin. Bone glinting through it all. Further punches would be idiotic, the scales cut as much as they blocked.

She turned—it rushed.

Teeth grazed her cheek.

She stumbled through the snow, stood, collapsed. No muscle obeyed.

The world lagged.

Death hung mid-pounce.

Darkness awaited. At last, the beast could sate its hunger…

If only it had noticed the dagger.

It ran right into it.

The blade pierced its soft palate, reaching its brain before it could understand.

Before she could.

Kim had drawn the weapon just in time—pointed it upward moments before her neck became pulp.

The corpse fell over her and she pushed it aside as though it was a mountain. Her blade glinted at its throat. Maybe she could’ve used it earlier, but the ring came to mind instead. Walter did.

On the snow she lay, eyes on her shaking, blood-smeared hands raised to the sky. I almost died. She wasn’t sure how to feel, but she did know what to ask. Has he truly abandoned her? Where was he when she needed him the most? I almost died and he wasn’t there. The fact echoed endlessly. Her breath grew short and shaky; eyes glinted with tears she refused to let go. No champion cries.

Was the world always so bleak? There was no color. No scream. Not even a smile. Only breath. Loud, rapid, choppy… in the stillness of dead air.

The air shifted. A visage peered into view. Not tall. Not skinny. About her size. Unfamiliar. She rubbed eyes. Blinked a few. Slowly, she sat up—

—and saw a boy.

***

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Walter closed the pocket-watch and stashed it away. Its ticking persisted in his leather coat. He stood at the tallest peak where he'd commanded Kimberlain to go, past an ocean of dark, flashing clouds. The point wasn't to reach it but to see how close she could. A gator-wolf should be her limit.

Her progress was astonishing for a child he took on a whim—an infant in a wrecked carriage, at the height of The Fourth Great War. From the start, she was a phenomenal talent, a sponge of Atr. No older than ten now, yet already keeping up with him. Strength, speed, tenacity—her physical capabilities were exceptional. Stamina could be honed further, but she’s still growing—

Not nearly enough. No one knew better than him that the world, Atr by extension, was not all muscle and bone. The power coursed through every bodily fluid, every organ, every thought. Each part, a different fruit. And time is ticking.

Her rebellions stalled long enough already. Perhaps it was ‘puberty’ as he’d read. Made her rough around the edges. Annoying. Too much at times, but still a diamond. Nothing he couldn’t cut to shape. He must. She will be.

Walter looked ahead. The wind was restless at this side of the sky. A series of thunder crackled in the clouds and streaks of light crawled through it. Below it was the forest he made no remarks on. He turned half a circle. Now, the palette of autumn was favored by a drowsy sphere descending on the endless horizon. Below there were all the images that kid wanted to see… never will. Not on his watch, not until she’s… brimming. Plump with Atr. Ready for what comes next. Tick. Tick. Tick.

One month. Not too long, but still soon. Patience.

Then his crow came. The bird wrapped the blood-red scarf around his neck. Cawed at his ear as if whispering something. He broke stillness. His hand began to vibrate.

In that moment—his eyes turned blood-shot, his back burst with viscous black, and a harrowing pair shot up. Slowly expanding midair were wings, but with each meter spread they looked more like tattered rags than anything avian. At their full breadth, the plateau abandoned all hope of containing them. He turned, plodded forward, dropped, flapped once, then soared. Walter glared at the forest ahead. How annoying.

***

End of Chapter 2