Chapter 2: Dreams

Kimberlain stared at the familiar ceiling of a tent faintly glowing from within, pitched in a dark room cramped with books and wooden animals. Her room was wide and that brought discomfort. The dark, too. She brought Mr. Lamp wherever she was and kept him fed. The sun was fast asleep, so should she. I can’t, though.

She didn't sink into the snow—a first. Only for a moment, but still. It was as frustrating as it was satisfying. Mr. Citrus was right again and even her sigh sounded like his. There was comfort in her pajamas—vibrant and baggy—which contrasted him. And the dueling garments he made her wear. She only wore them once every week, one too many she thought. 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 yesternight, but a diary she never opened, the one in her very hands.

I was wondering why he didn’t scold me about his diary yesterday. He doesn’t even know I have it! 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. Careful thought 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. She cracked doors open and she peered 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. Through the hall of tireless adventures. 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 smile from within. A hand grabbed her face. It pulled in.

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 the lemon stand she was hot-and-cold about—Walter, of course. Away from her, he held a rod as skinny as he. 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. Steel clashed against steel. Sparks flew, blade chipped. He was unfazed. She wasn’t. A couple more strikes from different directions. Up—blocked. Left—blocked. Right and under—both blocked. She took a step back to catch her breath, but Walter didn't let her.

The sequence mirrored back to mock her. Up—blocked. Left—blocked. Right and under—both blocked. Her arms were jelly while his were still. The strikes were deceptively heavy, receiving one required every muscle.

They added to the sequence. Jumbled it and repeated. Add-jumble-repeat—that was how their bout went. The sun rose at its peak. They sparred… thirty times? Forty? She lost count.“Good. You’re stronger, but Stamina is still weak.”

“Can… can I breathe—"

“Let’s check speed—"

Walter vanished in a blur. The world froze like a child left behind. But she kept up, saw leaves. Branches. Rod, at the corner of her eye. Tilted head to dodge. Hopped back. He lunged forward. Three blows. One connected. The world caught up. She winced at her throbbing side.

“FUCK!”

“… Where did you learn that word?”

“A stupid book.”

“You did read it. I told you not to touch it, didn’t I?”

“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, but his answer was too absurd. “Really? All this for the stupid book?”

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

***

The sun yawned. 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 noon. And now, he wants me to go there? Without help?

Brows furrowed, she faced the loose snow once again. Her memories of it, frustration and frown, were jeering jesters. Eyes sank. Fear rose. Can I do this? But yesterday was different. Yesterday, she conquered it. 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 to the same landscape as her skin was brushed numbingly by the passing gust. 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.

The first minute, she ran with the biggest smile. She started panting on the third, still running. By the fifth minute her brows were furrowing once more. She was completely sour by the tenth. There was absolutely no point in continuing, but once Walter says, Kim must do. Especially when he’s serious. Tread lines, never cross them.

Huffing and puffing, her gaze landed on the peak once more. She groaned. Remembered why she was there in the first place. A stupid book. Now she’s pissed. She saw the sky, the heavy clouds, thunder within. It mirrored her mind. 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, her words said, even her condition.

“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! Dumb! 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 at the corner of her sight, then—nothing. Before she could react, another rustle to her right. Then behind.

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

Wait a minute. 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 downtrodden snow.

… Paws?

It trailed upwards. She followed.

Bark. Marks. Branches.

Maw.

SNAP!

Kimberlain’s scream tore through the forest.

A wolf with scale-like fur, easily twice her size, dropped from the tree. Its jaws clamped shut in her shoulder. Now over her, it bore down with crushing weight. She held her breath. Wrestled against it. Pummeled with what little strength she had. But each blow, dulled by exhaustion and awkward angle, landed like flesh against stone. The beast only bit harder—another sickening snap of bone. Agony popped so violently she forgot how to scream.

Desperation took her hand and drove it to the wolf’s right eye—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. Everything was said in that silence.

Above them, sparrows bore witness. They saw two points below, black and amber, darting between the trees. The gator-wolf was closing in despite its bulk. Trembling hands rummaged her pockets—then froze.

The ring… it’s not here.

The beast snarled, lunged—a solid punch fended it. The jolt through her knuckles was 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 stopped. Death hung mid-pounce. Darkness awaited. But not for her.

If only the wolf had noticed the dagger. It ran right into it. The blade pierced its soft palate, reached its skull before it could understand. Before she could. She had drawn the weapon just in time—pointing it upward moments before her neck became pulp. The corpse, real now, fell over her and she pushed it aside as though it was a mountain.

Then on the snow she lay, eyes to the gray skies. She almost died. She wasn’t sure how to feel, but she did know what to ask. Has Walter truly abandoned her? Where was he when she needed him the most? I almost died. She thought of the fact many, many times. Her lips trembled as she sniffled; eyes glinted with tears she refused to let go. No champion cries.

Victor once again. But 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.

Stirred abruptly.

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

—and saw a boy.

***

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Walter closed the pocket-watch and stashed it away. It persisted in his leather coat. He stood at the tallest peak where he'd commanded Kimberlain to go, past an ocean of mucky cotton suspended in the heavens. 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 turns half a circle. Now, the palette of autumn was favored by a drowsy sphere descending on a skyline, far slimmer than he could ever be. Below there were all the images that kid wanted to see… never will. Not on his watch, not until she’s… plump. Brimming. 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. Clenched his fist.

At this moment—his eyes turn blood-shot, his back bursts with viscous black, and a harrowing pair shoots up. Slowly expanding midair are wings, but with each meter spread they look more like tattered rags than anything avian. At their full breadth, the plateau abandoned all hope of containing them. He turns and plods forward. Drops. He flaps once, frightens the wind as he launches forward, then soars. Walter glares at the forest ahead. How annoying.

End of Chapter 2