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Authors: Lorelei Moone
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He was sure, because hidden in the dark of the doorway another pair of eyes was staring at Aidan. Clarice had woken up.
Chapter Ten
When Clarice finally awoke, she was surprised to still find herself in that same bed, in that same room, with the same wooden furniture from her crazy dream earlier. The only difference was the dark corner where Derek had sat was empty now, and the candle on the dresser had burnt up even further.
The welt on her forehead hurt equally, her limbs were stiff as before, and the only thing she could hear was a low howl outside the window. The storm was still going on though its intensity had reduced quite a bit.
Enough was enough. If she stayed in bed, who knows what other crazy hallucinations her mind would come up with. Clarice fought against the residual lethargy in her muscles and rolled over onto her side, ready to get out from underneath the warm covers. Her legs seemed to work just fine, even if the rough wooden floor underneath her feet felt funny, tingly, as if her feet had fallen asleep along with the rest of her.
She got up carefully, swaying slightly as she tried to maintain her balance. Then, putting one foot ahead of the other, she slowly walked around the bed and straight towards the door.
Where was the bathroom?
Clarice turned the handle, then stopped to listen for any sign of another presence inside the house, before heading across the hall to the first other door she could find. She heard nothing but the wind. The house itself was completely quiet.
As luck would have it, the first door Clarice tried was indeed the bathroom. The mirror allowed her a first look at the damage done to her head. It looked pretty bad. Shades of blue and purple colored her skin with a bright red cut in the center. She would have expected more blood, meaning that someone - Derek probably - had cleaned her wound after carrying her here.
That was what had happened, right?
Or had that also been a dream?
Clarice washed her hands, shivering as the icy cold water prickled against her skin. She hoped that the cold water would wake her up, to help her filter through her memories to determine what was real and what had just been fantasy.
"I'm losing it," she said to her reflection, then shook her head and dried her hands on the fluffy towel hanging beside the sink.
Still confused, she left the bathroom again and was greeted by muffled voices coming from the far end of the corridor. Now that she felt a bit more limber, she tiptoed her way down the hall. She'd had no idea where in the house she was before, but as she neared the room at the end, she could see shadowy outlines of two armchairs and a sofa. Further ahead was a doorway with light filtering out of it. The kitchen.
Two broad-shouldered figures sat across the heavy wooden table she'd observed through the window during her evening walks around the garden outside. One was Derek, the other one she didn't know, but the similar build and hair color, as well as the familiar tone in which they spoke to each other suggested they were related. His brother perhaps?
She overheard them talk of secrets and of humans finding out. It was surreal, but it dawned on Clarice that just maybe, her memories from the bedroom earlier weren't just part of a crazy dream after all. She couldn't quite explain how she picked up on it, but a certain sadness hung around Derek, who sat with his back towards her. The other guy, Aidan, mentioned their parents' death, and it all started to make sense.
Although it was wrong to eavesdrop, she couldn't tear herself away from the conversation. As the two men spoke, she didn't just listen with her ears, but with her heart as well if that made sense. That added dimension was so different from anything she'd ever felt before; it made the act of spying irresistible. She stepped ahead and felt her perceptions of Derek's state of mind intensify.
"... A bear would rather die than to put his mate in harm's way, but who knows how it works for
Chapter Ten
When Clarice finally awoke, she was surprised to still find herself in that same bed, in that same room, with the same wooden furniture from her crazy dream earlier. The only difference was the dark corner where Derek had sat was empty now, and the candle on the dresser had burnt up even further.
The welt on her forehead hurt equally, her limbs were stiff as before, and the only thing she could hear was a low howl outside the window. The storm was still going on though its intensity had reduced quite a bit.
Enough was enough. If she stayed in bed, who knows what other crazy hallucinations her mind would come up with. Clarice fought against the residual lethargy in her muscles and rolled over onto her side, ready to get out from underneath the warm covers. Her legs seemed to work just fine, even if the rough wooden floor underneath her feet felt funny, tingly, as if her feet had fallen asleep along with the rest of her.
She got up carefully, swaying slightly as she tried to maintain her balance. Then, putting one foot ahead of the other, she slowly walked around the bed and straight towards the door.
Where was the bathroom?
Clarice turned the handle, then stopped to listen for any sign of another presence inside the house, before heading across the hall to the first other door she could find. She heard nothing but the wind. The house itself was completely quiet.
As luck would have it, the first door Clarice tried was indeed the bathroom. The mirror allowed her a first look at the damage done to her head. It looked pretty bad. Shades of blue and purple colored her skin with a bright red cut in the center. She would have expected more blood, meaning that someone - Derek probably - had cleaned her wound after carrying her here.
That was what had happened, right?
Or had that also been a dream?
Clarice washed her hands, shivering as the icy cold water prickled against her skin. She hoped that the cold water would wake her up, to help her filter through her memories to determine what was real and what had just been fantasy.
"I'm losing it," she said to her reflection, then shook her head and dried her hands on the fluffy towel hanging beside the sink.
Still confused, she left the bathroom again and was greeted by muffled voices coming from the far end of the corridor. Now that she felt a bit more limber, she tiptoed her way down the hall. She'd had no idea where in the house she was before, but as she neared the room at the end, she could see shadowy outlines of two armchairs and a sofa. Further ahead was a doorway with light filtering out of it. The kitchen.
Two broad-shouldered figures sat across the heavy wooden table she'd observed through the window during her evening walks around the garden outside. One was Derek, the other one she didn't know, but the similar build and hair color, as well as the familiar tone in which they spoke to each other suggested they were related. His brother perhaps?
She overheard them talk of secrets and of humans finding out. It was surreal, but it dawned on Clarice that just maybe, her memories from the bedroom earlier weren't just part of a crazy dream after all. She couldn't quite explain how she picked up on it, but a certain sadness hung around Derek, who sat with his back towards her. The other guy, Aidan, mentioned their parents' death, and it all started to make sense.
Although it was wrong to eavesdrop, she couldn't tear herself away from the conversation. As the two men spoke, she didn't just listen with her ears, but with her heart as well if that made sense. That added dimension was so different from anything she'd ever felt before; it made the act of spying irresistible. She stepped ahead and felt her perceptions of Derek's state of mind intensify.
"... A bear would rather die than to put his mate in harm's way, but who knows how it works for
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