“Aurie,” She knew his voice. She clenched her eyes tighter. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see, didn’t want to be reminded that he wasn’t there. “My love.”

  Aurelie curled her hands under her pillow so that it wrapped her chin. His smell had long faded from it. It no longer felt like his shoulder pressed against her cheeks. Nothing about that bed felt like he belonged in it anymore. She rolled to her other side with a tug of the blanket to her cheek.

  “Remember the rocks.”

  Aurelie curled herself under the blanket, gritting her teeth. She muffled her ears. Just a few more moments and he will be gone again. A few breaths and she will fall asleep. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t open your eyes.

  The forest in her dreams was different than it had been before but she knew it was still the same forest. Some of the trees looked burnt: gray and twisted. Others looked wintry. Tangles of bare vines and briar clawed into their bark. The ground was barren, like the earth itself had been scarred. Ashes fell over her like snow.

  She looked up. The gray of the sky matched the trees. She looked to the path she was standing on. It was still the same forest.

  Ahead of her, he was there. Offla, Draka, the Offlander. He turned his gaze to her with hazel eyes that changed color with the light. Sometimes, he turned to her with golden eyes, other times they were greenish, once or twice they had been blue, almost mirrors of her own. Always with a spear in his hand and furs replacing his stained, unkempt shirt and trousers, ready to hunt. He put a finger to his lips when he saw her.

  On the hunt again.

  “Ma?” Maud said as she came into her bedroom.

  Firelight spilled through the open doorway onto her eyelids. She clenched them tighter and listened as Maud switched out the bowl on the nightstand beside her.

  “I made it with fish this time. Draka let me buy some at the market. So, it’ll smell if you don’t eat it tonight.”

  Aurelie didn’t move. Maud lifted the blanket and slid in behind her. A thin arm slid over Aurelie’s side and curled over her. Long fingers forced themselves in between hers. Maud’s breath bumped her neck rhythmically.

  “I’m starting lessons tomorrow. Pierre is meeting me at Draka’s in the morning. I think Draka wants me to learn how to read so I can understand him better until his vow of silence ends.”

  Aurelie sank into Maud’s warmth. She hummed that she was listening.

  “Maybe it’s Draka’s way of keeping me busy while he’s off to war.”

  Aurelie’s eyes creeped ever so slightly open. Just enough to see the orange glow dancing on her wall over their shadow. Draka will be gone. For how long? Will he be back? Will she be rid of him forever? Will she mourn him the same?

  “He leaves at the end of this week with the Baron. I’m not sure what all I need to do to help him prepare. I figure I will make him meat that he just needs to reheat. Something easy. Extra socks. I think I can finish at least two pairs before then. And a coat…well, maybe not a coat. I’m sure he’ll be back for winter. No one soldiers in the winter, right? Maybe I should mend his coat anyway. Maman?” Maud’s chest bulged against her back with a long breath. “I miss you. When will you wake up? When will you come out again?”

  Aurelie closed her eyes again.

  “My love,” her husband's voice echoed around her.

  Maud climbed out of the bed. A wet spot remained where she had laid her head over Aurelie’s hair.

  “Please eat. I love you.” There was a pause that allowed Aurelie to hear Maud’s shallow breaths. “Goodnight.”

  The door slammed shut.

  Aurelie bit her lower lip. She needed to sit up. She needed to eat. She knew that. But her head was heavy. Her body was weighed down. She couldn’t think of reason enough to rise out of bed, or lift herself to take more than a few bites of the stews Maud left for her each night. Maud had Draka. Aurelie had…ashes.

  The forest in her dreams was different than it had been before but she knew it was still the same forest. Some of the trees looked gray and twisted. Others looked burnt. Tangles of thorned briars and vines clawed into the bark. The ground was scarred, barren. And he was there. Golden hazel eyes beamed at her over a thick and youthfully auburn beard. He put a finger on his lips at her.

  He held his spear with a readiness to kill. To hunt. Always ready for the hunt.

  An owl hooted.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  She woke with a jolt. She was soaking with sweat. She rubbed her eyes. The soft light of morning poked from beneath her door. She heard the front door shut and Maud’s soft steps across the porch. She lay back down, sliding the covers up over her shoulder. Her eyes were heavy. Her skin felt slick and numb. She closed her eyes.

  The forest in her dreams was different than it had been before but she knew. She knew the trees. She knew the gray and twisted trees with thorned vines stabbing into the bark like chains from deep in the earth. She knew the barren death surrounding her, spiting the life that once flourished within the shadows of these trees. She knew the man standing before her with those hazel eyes that changed colors like the sky and the river waters. Like the seasons. He put a finger on his lips at her.

  He held his spear ready to kill. Always ready for the hunt.

  “Why you?” She growled. “Why did you survive and not him?” A rock was in her hand. She raised her hand to throw it, “Just go already!”

  An owl hooted.

  Aurelie woke with a jolt. The bed was dry and the air was a fog of heat. It was still day. She rubbed her cheek into the pillow in the hopes of smelling him, her beloved husband, her Balor, again. Instead, all she could smell was the stench of her own breath.

  The forest was the same. Always the same.

  Always dead.

  Always gray.

  Always twisted and dark and hateful and disgusted and angry and sorrowful and boastful and disappointed and cruel…And with him and those piercing golden eyes that killed as readily as the spear in his hand.

  The finger smeared blood across his lips. Those eyes, those harrowing eyes. Aurelie wanted to rake them from his pretty face. She wanted to lunge at him, to murder him and bring her husband back in his place. Her daughter’s father.

  Her daughter’s brother. She didn’t know which she preferred, and it made her feel worse. When she woke again, she clawed at her hair, at her cheeks, to punish herself for the thought. How selfish was she that she thought of her husband more than her son? How awful of a person had she become? She went back to sleep, laying in the puddle of her tears, her sweat.

  It wasn’t the forest. It wasn’t him standing in front of her in skins with a spear in hand and a finger on his lips.

  She was inside a house. Not hers. Aurelie didn’t recognize the layout. This was nothing like any house she had been in. The ground was uneven, hard and soft at the same time and covered by furs that were tattering and worn from being walked on for who knows how long. A small fire crackled from inside a circle of stones in the middle of the room. On the other side, a figure sat in the glow of the fire.

  Yellow eyes within rings of red regarded her from a heart shaped face. A face too perfect. Too beautiful.

  Unnatural.

  Horns peeked from within her long, dark hair, twisting like a ram’s. Black feathered wings wrapped the creature like a cloak. Thick lips stretched into a fanged grin.

  Black feathers ruffled as the creature’s wings shifted from around it to reveal its naked body. It was sitting on crossed scaly legs with sharp talons. The grin widened as Aurelie’s eyes were drawn downward. Down to something cradled in the creature’s arms. Cradled against her supple breast. She knew it was a baby without seeing it, could hear the familiar sound of the suckling, could smell that familiar smell of a child whose warmth was like residue in the crook of her own arm.

  The creature laughed. It was a baby in its arms, she could see it now. Sallow skinned, ghost eyed, lifeless infant. She knew its face. She knew it like the heart that was thrashing against her ribs. Those lifeless eyes were shaped like hers.

  “Want to hold him?”

  Aurelie woke to bright light on her face. She shook and turned away from it. She wanted to go back. She did. She did. She did want to hold him. She wanted to cradle him in her arms. She wanted the warmth of his little body against her chest. She raged against her own breathing. She reeled at the image. She wanted to go anywhere but…she did want to hold him.

  Her dearest Alden.

  She tightly closed her eyes. Steadied her breath.

  The forest in her dreams was different than it was before. It looked dead, gnarled and twisted with thorned briars. Gray and tangled with vines. Ash fell like snow over barren dirt and dead roots.

  “How are you doing this?” Draka startled her. He wasn’t standing where he was supposed to be. He was behind her. Instead of furs, he was wearing boots and trousers and a weathered but well-kept cotton shirt.

  He sat on a log with a sword resting on his thigh as if he had just finished sharpening it. Its handle was laced with gold and decorated with shimmering brilliance, the cross guard gilded gold and silver, and its blade a perfect mirror of the ashes falling like snow around them.

  “I can understand you,” Aurelie eyed it as she took a step back.

  The forest began to bend and flow around him like paint being splashed and swiped away when he stood.

  He came at her, gripping his sword as readily as she had seen him grip that spear so many times before, “This is my nightmare! Get out!” He shoved her.

  Aurelie sat up like lightning had bolted through her, hands clawing her covers and the wall. She was dowsed in darkness. Alone. Sweating. Out of breath and hungry. She felt for the bowl of stew and brought it to her lap in the darkness. It was cold but still good. That made her feel proud. And ashamed.

  She put the empty bowl back on the stand and lay down again. Barely more than a few bites. Not even half. It spilt a little over her fingers. She didn’t wipe them off as she tucked them under the covers.

  All she could think was his voice, over and over, shouting at her in roars of rage…or was it fear? “This is my memory! Get out!”

  Or was it "dream?" His voice in her head morphed in her head to that monstrously soothing and sweet tempatation. "Want to hold him?"

  The forest in her dreams was different than before…