We’d managed to find something to eat, which could only be described as a miracle. The forest we were in had many edible things, but the problem was some of them were indifferentiable to others when it rained, just like right now.
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The pitter patter of rain above us had driven Noah to sleep, but sooner or later, it had started thundering, and I was forced to stay awake. I stood up from my bed, annoyed, and exited my room, the fire still crackling its woes away, unextinguished as an attempt by us to keep warm in the slowly dwindling temperatures.
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I sat in our living room, thunder sounding outside the tent, but inside, where the cottage was, was otherwise dry.
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Bored, I took up Momma’s pouch, reached in, and pulled out the smoking tent. I had nothing to do, so I might as well see if this’d be useful to us or not. I walked out of the cottage, the glass between us and the void being pitter pattered by rain, the flow of it thunderous. I set up the tent, jumping every time there was lightning, but in the end I got it set up, even in its still smoking state.
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I stared at it, curiosity calling, questioning whether I should go in there or not, but in the end, the cat’s killer got the best of me, and I entered, crawling into the tent.
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I was greeted with a prairie, all expansive, no void in sight. It was as if I was in a completely different location, like I was standing in a grassland with the wind blowing and the wheat tikling my legs.
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The soothing warm air filled my nostrils, a much needed break from the smells and sights of the forest. Not that it was bad, but still. Change is nice. The cottage before me stood two floors, very much welcoming, with a sweet aroma coming from the chimney in Its roof.
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I took a step forward, and to my surprise, the temperature dropped massively, a tree appearing in front of the cottage, it’s leaves orange. Another tentative step, and it was snowing. As confused as I was, I stepped forward again, and it was spring, the tree looking healthy and green. I stopped. What was going on?
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I walked onward, and spring, summer, and fall came and went with each step, the order of which was confusing, but that, I did not pay attention to. I reached the front steps, and i slowly and carefully reached my hand out to the doorknob, turning it, and- and-
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The house was suddenly aflame.
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I stumbled backwards into nothingness, just a void and a flaming house, the sweet aroma from the chimney replaced with the smell of charred wood, as I fell…fell…and fell….
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I hit the ground with a surprisingly light thud, and I sat up, finding myself back in the camp. My brain instantly went to the worst places, and had me thinking escape was fruitless, all that happened was a lie, and I was delusional to think we had a chance of escaping- that is until someone walked through me, as if I was a ghost. Not into me, no, straight through me.
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It was as if somebody had poured a bucket of ice onto you, but you were completely dry.
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So yeah, it didn’t feel good.
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I stood up, holding my heart, to see a woman being restrained by a Hodinsaenese while her child was taken away. Being as delusional as I was, I attempted to help, but my hands just phased through whoever I touched, my attempt to comfort the dark woman proving fruitless.
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Feeling sick and cold, I pulled my hand back to myself, as the scene changed, now finding myself elsewhere, but still in the camp. It was a scene I by no means expected, a scene that I did not believe was happening. Mrs. Rodrigues, bearing a wand, fighting tooth and nail with a Hodinsaenese wizard and two others with guns.
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With a slash of her wand, purple light escaped from it, striking her main opponent, the mage, right in the heart and knocking him out. The others diverted their attention to him, giving Mrs Rodriguez enough time to escape, of which she did. Turning on the spot, she disappeared, a crack signaling her leaving.
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The scene changed again, to a boy perhaps ten-
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A boy perhaps eleven—
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A boy, perhaps eleven.
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A boy, perhaps eleven.
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Noah’s age.
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A boy, perhaps eleven, was being dragged into a white cabin, screaming and flailing, the cabin itself slightly adjacent from the other ‘houses’. The door closed behind him and the other two soldiers as he screamed, the noise filling my ears and rooting me to the ground. I stood for what felt like hours, within which the boy stopped screaming, and at the end of which the soldiers walked out, their gloves stained with blood.
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They phased through me, shaking me out of my immobility, and snapping my senses back to reality. They’d left the door open, a putrid smell filling the air, as I peered in, the sight leaving me sick to my stomach.
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Body parts hung from the ceiling from fish hooks. People gouged like kebabs leaned against the wall. Heads, hung by the eye sockets or by the mouth from the roof swayed from the draft coming from the door. Bags, filled with who knows what, sitting next to a back door, flies proving interested in them.
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Lifeless bodies, dripping blood onto the grimy floor.
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And then there was the boy. The boy that was dragged in, just moments ago. He was hanging from the ceiling, a rope around his neck holding him up. His arms were gone, laying dilly-dally elsewhere, with his clothes thrown aside, signifying things I’d never want to know.
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This is what they’d’ve done if we stayed. And to think I complained about forest life.
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I promptly fainted, overstimulated.
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. . .
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Waking with a start, and found myself in the charred house, in a wooden chair, the only wooden chair in its living room. A singular candle burned on a table next to me, and I sat there, alone in the abandoned cottage.
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I felt something in my pocket, something I didn’t expect to be there.
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Ollie’s eight-ball.
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I took it out, tears pricking my eyes.
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“Will we be okay?”
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It whirred, a comforting sound in all that just happened, it then stopped, rather abruptly.
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“If you believe so,” It said, and I did. I believed we’d make it, I believed there was hope. And if I believed, I hoped Noah did too.
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I sat there for a moment, before getting up and extinguishing the candle. I left the cottage, and though it was no longer smoking that was no concern to me, there were more important things to think about.
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I left the charred tent, to find it was no longer raining, and to find the charred tent gone, as if it never existed to begin with. I frowned, I didn't want it anyway.
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