~Rogue~
The dream, when it came, was all her own. No blood, no torture, no claws or wires. Just the garden behind her parents’ house, the sloping lawn down to the river, a table with white cloth, all prepared for her birthday party. Sixth? Seventh? Her mother bringing out a cake: “Marie” in green icing. Candles. Her little sister Michelle with her beloved toy horse.
The guests arriving: family, friends, even a few neighbours. Laughter. Her best dress with lace that she loved, the warm sunshine in the leaves of the sprawling walnut tree. Butterflies playing over the cotton field beyond. A beautiful day.
Something wriggled a little at the back of her mind. She had forgotten something. Something really, really important.
Her daddy, home from work, coming across the lawn. His proud smile saying “that’s my big girl now”. He had promised her riding lessons later this summer, when school was out. And when she was big, he would teach her shooting, as well. They just needed to convince momma. And they would, between the two of them.
She made to race into his arms, but something kept tugging at her mind, slowing her down.
He came nearer, and the world shifted; seemed to revolve around them. All eyes on her.
What WAS it now she had to think of.
He had almost reached her, his smile wide, every detail of his face etched out in lucid clarity. “Hey little one!”...
But the sun was gone now, clouds moving fast, cold wind blowing
... ready to pick her up and swing her round like he always did...
but no, he mustn’t, something terrible would happen
... the whole world turning grey...
“No, daddy, NO!!”
... and then he touched her and she couldn’t stop him, couldn’t scream, could just watch as he fell apart, disintegrated into dust, and the wind blew from *her*, caught everything in its wake, reduced all to swirling ashes - guests, garden, house, everything, blowing it all away like in the pictures she had seen of Hiroshima, and she knew it would also take her, take her last and she would be sucked into nothingness, into the black cold void beneath all things and she tumbled, nothing to cling to, no foothold in the world, it ripped her loose like an old flag and she blew away, whirled, fell...
She woke up, trembling with cold and horror, panicking in the dark, body curled into a tight knot. Just slowly, she saw the moonlight filtering into the room, heard the other girl breathing evenly, felt the sheets around her. She got her breath back and tried to shake off the dream.
Meditation was supposed to help. Breath calmly, concentrate on the image of something that makes you feel good.
So difficult to focus her thoughts. They drifted off, always moving in many layers.
Oh please, Logan wasn’t gone for good, was he?
Her life was all right during the day. There were people to talk to and things to do, easy to pretend she was one among many. But during the night, it all fell away, and she had to face the bitter hunger for human touch, the pain of loss that came with remembering the places and people of her childhood, her desperate longing for a home, someplace or somebody she belonged to, some shelter to keep her from the cold wind blowing out in the world. She clung to Logan’s promise, replayed it in her mind.
She knew she shouldn’t - she no longer was a child and part of the loneliness came with growing up. And she didn’t want to cling. All the memories in her head confirmed that yes, you were on your own out there. The sooner she resigned herself to it, the better.
But it was hard, and the images of home had taken her back in time, and just now she wanted to be hugged, to be told that everything would be fine in the morning, that someone would take care of it all and tuck her back into bed and promise her a visit of the tree-fairy she and her best friend Valerie knew lived in the walnut-tree.
Her sister and Valerie and granny...
She tried to muffle the sob that formed in her throat.
Jubilation stirred in her sleep. Oh no, don’t wake up! That would bring pity and bright reassuring smiles and a lot of hustle.
Rogue slid out of bed, pulled on her gloves and grabbed her emergency bag. Ever since the attack, a lot of students slept more or less fully clothed, and kept a bag with the bare necessities close at hand. Her experience with travelling lightly had made her a good advisor on that subject.
Gusts of wind swept the trees outside, and long fingers of lightning illuminated the edge of the forest beyond the school grounds. Soon, there would be thunder, and Jubilation would wake up. She left her a short message on the pillow and then moved stealthily outside.
It had to be about three or four in the morning; the corridors were deserted. She padded to the ground level and past the library to the door of the conservatory. No, not even Ms Munroe was up any more. The warm, humid air inside never failed to calm her. Soft petals of a magnolia blossom caressing her bare skin in a sisterly greeting, crumbs of earth clinging to her fingers, a drop of water like a tiny explosion on her palm...
Another deep breath - plants at least thrived under her hands. She snuggled into the old battered sofa at the back of the greenhouse where the tools were kept, drew out a book and started reading by the light of the one bulb. The sound of rain drumming on the glass roof and the warm protected feeling inside finally put her mind to rest and she slept, deep and undisturbed.
~Logan~
The first raindrops splattered against the window, bringing with them the clean, simple smells of the forest and a promise of relief. He put the folded note into his wallet, then stood up and stared outside. Wash off tonight, and start to learn. No need to tie himself down and copy their lives, but at least get to know about their ways. He was a good observer, he’d manage.
He felt the muddied waters of his soul clear. He swung himself over the windowsill, dropped to the ground and started running, lightly, into the woods.
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