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He would run the inn himself. Better yet, he would close the inn, remain in solitude. |
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He found himself, a short while later, standing outside his house in the darkness. He carried no candle. |
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About him, the compound that he had wrested from the wilderness by his own hands, his refuge against the outside world, now looked shadowed and unfamiliar. |
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Even his home seemed foreign. He found his fist raised, as though to knock on the door. He stared at the offending appendage, then lowered it deliberately. He turned the knob and walked inside. |
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Holly, sitting on the side of the bed, rose with a gasp. "Oh, Thorn, you startled me, you did." |
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He strode across the room and looked down. |
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"Thorn," came a faint whisper from the bed. |
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He sat gently upon the mattress and took her cool, fragile hand into his own. He was barely aware of Holly's speaking into his ear. "I will get myself drink and food but will come back to sit with her whenever you wish." In moments she was gone. |
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"Mariah." Thorn heard his voice croak. |
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"The raiders," she managed, through dry and cracked lips. Holly had dressed her in a shirt of his, and she looked as lost as a small child dressed in adult garb. Her skin was nearly as pale as the white shirt. |
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"Would you like some water?" he asked. |
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Her head moved in a weak shake. Her eyes seemed to focus beyond his shoulder. "The raiders," she said again. "They came. You believe me now." |
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What was she talking about? Was she delirious? |
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And then he understood. She thought the scoundrels who had lain in wait were the raiders she'd claimed to predict from her play. From the future. |
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Mariah had lived her entire life here in delirium. Or she was part of some nefarious scheme he'd yet to comprehend. With that Pierce, perhaps. |
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But how could she maintain it while so injured? No, he |
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