This week, I offer to you a sample of a piece I worked on when I was very distractable and burnt-out on my current Works In Progress.
It’s set in a world I wrote in before but haven’t shared much of on here: the world of Vernalia, in a project I called “Three-Cord Strand”. This particular part of the project was initially suggested as a collaboration, and I haven’t done anything other than this on it, for now, although the characters are so well-established in my mind that this much was natural for them. However, if you’re worried about missing out on anything, there isn’t much you need to know that the story itself won’t show you. Please enjoy!
***
Cam scowled, pulling her legs in tighter.
They said she needed to make more friends. To get out of her comfort zone. And this would help with that. Ha. It all sounded like the sort of excuse parents made when they wanted you to do something uncomfortable so they could do something fun.
They hadn’t told her what they would be doing, actually, when she was at this stupid camp. She glanced at her reflection in the bus window and straightened her red-blond braid irritably. It just wasn’t fair.
“You’ll have fun!”
She’d narrowed her eyes. “Right.”
“There’s all sorts of things they’ll have you doing,” Mom continued.
Strike one. Cam liked doing things her way.
“They’ve got a pond, so you can learn to swim and you can go canoeing!”
Strike two. Cam hated water and anything to do with it. She’d swear Mom was just picking things she knew would irritate her.
“There’s a butterfly tent on the grounds, so you can see some native species, and some faraway ones.”
Well. That might not be so bad.
“There’s six people to a bunkhouse, but the boys are separate, I promise.”
Strike three. There was no way Cam was going to share a bunkhouse with five other girls. Especially if she got stuck with some who were all about boys. Their dreams stank of such saccharine rot that it was like stepping in corn syrup. It didn’t come off unless you subjected it to the most vigorous of licking, and even then, your footpads were still a little sticky.
“Do I have to?” she muttered aloud, watching the buildings grow more and more sparse as they neared the end of the pickup route. Soon, they’d really be on their way, and then where would she be? Surrounded by water and corn-syrup. Ugh.
A faint image appeared in the glass, and she straightened a little at the sight of the familiar, deep brown eyes.
Do everything without complaining or arguing.
She bit her lip, and looked down at her tennis shoes. She flicked at the lace of one, face heating. “I went, didn’t I?” she murmured. “Isn’t that good enough?”
She could feel the gentle gaze on her, and wilted inwardly. On the outside, however, she rolled back her shoulders and faced the eyes, unblinking. “I’m going,” she repeated, louder than before but not loud enough to be overheard. “It’s a start.”
The eyes crinkled in what might be amusement, and she swallowed, looking down again. “I don’t want to,” she confessed. “I really am trying.”
This was rewarded with a gentle warmth atop her head, between where her ears would be if she was in her feline form, and when she looked up again, the eyes were gone.
The warmth, however, remained for some time… until the last child was picked up for camp, shattering her peace.
“Hey!” The curly-headed boy bounded on board the bus, and her heart sank as he bounded toward the empty seat at her side. No! She grit her teeth and closed her eyes. Nononononono…
There were still two other seats available. Maybe he’d go into one of them.
She’d picked the back since no-one else would want it… the back had more jostles, after all, although with her claws extended, she could grip the seat and keep the worst from throwing her.
Really, the lack of people promised more comfort than the position itself afforded, and she wasn’t ready for a person, especially such a boisterous one.
He ignored the other seats, and, planting his feet on the one next to her, leaned over her and half-out the window, waving madly.
“Bye, Ina!! Bye, Grey!! Don’t forget about meeeeeee!!”
Ugh. Childish. Even better. She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face, pressing herself backwards into the cushions to avoid any part of him brushing up against her. Oddly enough, he smelled clean. At least she wouldn’t have that hurdle, too.
The bus coughed to life, and the motion beneath her was welcoming as the driver urged her seatmate to sit down.
“Young man!”
“Ooops. Sorry!” The boy flopped down, jostling her seat more, and her claws extended a little of their own accord. She opened one eye, and glanced out the window in time to catch the sign that proclaimed
Westfallen Children’s Home for the Orphaned
Oh. She almost felt ashamed, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, least of all herself. That would explain his behavior.
Despite orphans historically being lucky in such a way that made them valuable members of society, they were still orphans. For every Jack-the-Hero, there were five or ten unknown orphans that would spend their lives in quiet, unassuming labor and be instantly forgotten when they passed.
This one, she’d wager, was too flighty to be quiet and unassuming. But too thick to be a hero.
She was stuck with a reject. Unless it was his fortune to be adopted by a family. That would make sense. He’d fit in well being the mischievous younger sibling in a huge family. Or the spoiled only child of a childless couple.
She realized that she was still staring out the window, unseeing, only when the boy’s reflection made such a ridiculous face that she jumped. She turned on him, face flushed, and he smiled.
Smiled!
“Don’t you have any manners?” she snipped, and he cocked his head. “You didn’t seem to hear me. I thought it would get your attention.”
She stared at him, eyes narrowing, and almost opened her mouth to speak, but he began speaking again and cut her off.
“As I was sayin’, my name’s Kurt. What’s yours?”
She growled quietly, and folded her arms. “Camellia.” Her nickname was only to be used by her family, and those she deemed worthy of friendship. This boy did not make either of those qualifications.
“That’s a pretty name. Pretty flower, too,” he offered, smile still on his face despite her frosty demeanor.
She pinched her lips together, and sighed. It was going to be a long ride, wasn’t it? She looked back out the window, and silently begged the driver to go off-road into a ditch.
Of course, it didn’t happen.
Kurt chattered on at her side, seemingly happy to supply both sides of a conversation, and she bit back a sigh, growl, or scream every few minutes, it seemed. She tried to tune him out, but it only worked about half the time. At least he wasn’t carrying gossip. He talked on forever about the animals and natural things around his home, and his friends, the Ina and Grey he’d smothered her in order to wave to.
Partway through the ride, he paused long enough to breathe deeply, and asked her a question that she actually seemed expected to answer. “So… What’s your family like?”
She shrugged, and this time, Kurt seemed to get that she was uncomfortable. He stayed silent for a minute or two more, then folded his hands and announced, “Well, I’m tired. I think I’m going to sleep,” and immediately dropped off, his body relaxing as soft snores traveled the length of his frame.
Cam could appreciate the quiet, and the fact that he could fall asleep that fast. She liked sleep, herself. And as the other campers had settled into their own buzzes of conversation, she closed her eyes and drifted off.
The sleep-trail stretched in front of her, invitingly. She sniffed the air, and stretched into her feline form with a little shiver. Her ears pricked at the sound of happy laughter, and the scents of something good cooking. Was it a tuna melt?
She followed it, and found herself looking in at a dream of Kurt’s: one that appeared to be a memory. A white-haired boy and he were hunched over an outdoor table assembling a wooden boat kit, and a brunette girl joined them, the delicious sandwich on a plate.
Cam considered entering the memory just to lick at the fishy filling, but then he’d know she was there. Although he wouldn’t recognize her as the girl he’d prattled to on the bus…
“You didn’t lose piece A-5, did you, Kurt?” the strange boy asked. Kurt shook his head, sorting through the pieces on the table as his expression became increasingly more frustrated. “It was right here!”
The girl gave a sad smile and shook her head. “It’s all right, Kurt. Don’t worry about it.” She proffered the plate. “I’ll find it. You two eat. You skipped lunch again.”
“I’m fine,” the white-haired boy said, looking up at the girl with a nod. “Have you eaten?”
Cam sucked in a breath at his golden eyes. He must be a skinchanger, like her, then.
The girl nodded, and Kurt took half of the sandwich absently as he stirred the pieces with his opposing forefinger. “I just saw it…”
The temptation was no longer acceptable. Cam crouched, eyes on her prize, and sprang into the dream, landing squarely atop the table. With an elegant motion, she seized the sandwich in her mouth and fled, leaving the trio behind her to exclaim in surprise and dismay as she made off with the delicious treat.
Dream food still tasted good, even if it had no nutritional value; and she wasn’t about to let it go to waste for a figment of his imagination. She dashed across the lawn, and disappeared beneath a bush that was made up of patches of smeared green and patches of startling detail, as features in the background of dreams tend to. She was careful to keep within the background, and not fall out of the dream altogether, which made for an uncomfortable awakening.
There, she settled down in a prim circle, and nibbled at the sandwich while the boy and his friends, unable to catch up, diverted themselves with a game of stick-fencing. She watched them in between bites, gaze flickering between Kurt and the other boy, who were by far the most skilled.
The girl plopped down and she, too, watched them after a few unsuccessful attempts at victory. Cam glanced at her, then sat a little straighter, peering more intently as she realized there were no outward signs of Giftedness. She wondered what the girl’s Gifting was, then. Could she be a dreamwalker as well? And would the boy be able to sense her intrusion? Having a friend who was so Gifted might make it easier to tell. Then again, there were very, very few Shifters who were also dreamwalkers, and very few of those few were cat-shifters. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to tell, then.
She let out a small sigh, and, after a good stretch, loped back into the dream-at-large. She’d decided to see if his dream was fun enough to stay in, or if it was time to leave.
The fencing match continued as Cam approached cautiously, all senses on the alert. The girl was most definitely part of the dream itself, she realized— she smelled oddly flat, and floral, as if she were part of the background. And if Cam looked hard enough, she could just see the blurring around the girl’s edges that indicated a side character in the dream, although a vivid one.
She sat by the dream-girl, watching the pair spar, and just as she was about to dash away or join in (which one remained to be seen), a butterfly fluttered lazily by her nose.
Well. This was suitable entertainment, certainly. She began to chase it languidly. The butterfly itself, being a dream-figment, would never notice her. She had all the time in the world. Kurt, however, noticed her leaps and pounces, and the world quickly shifted itself to stay realistic. The butterfly, a mere inch away from her outstretched paw, darted with terrified speed, and she bit back a growl as the pursuit became threefold: she chased the butterfly, Kurt chased her, and his friends pursued him.
Maddening. Utterly maddening. The butterfly seemed always just within reach, and then reality sunk in as a swipe of her claws carried it further away. Clearly, his subconscious wasn’t about to let her win, so she’d pull a few strings.
You had to be careful what you did in someone else’s dreams. At worst, you could drive someone mad— but Cam was always careful. With a twitch of her whiskers, She willed a small swarm of butterflies to appear, and the boy gasped in delight as she slowed, leapt, and caught one in her mouth.
Ha! Camellia Janssen wasn’t silly enough to lose to a dream butterfly.
Victorious, she held the small, struggling thing in her jaws for a moment before releasing it. She watched as it fluttered off to join its friends, and then, while Kurt was still distracted by their bright colors and elegant swooping, she found the shimmering road and followed it out of the dream before he noticed she was gone.
She awoke with a jolt— the bus’s jolt —as it went over a bumpy wooden bridge. The air that came in through the window was filled with delicious and interesting smells… and horrid ones. Cam’s nose wrinkled at the profusion of odors, and then she noticed that Kurt had slipped to one side as he slept… and was resting his head on her shoulder.
“Ick!” She pushed him off, and he murmured in his sleep as he finished repositioning himself, now blissfully a full two inches from Cam’s person. A small snore indicated his peaceful slumber was undisturbed by her action, and she almost was irritable at this. It wasn’t fair that he be so… so… oblivious. She supposed he needed to have some time to feel happy. He was an orphan, after all, but from what she’d seen of his dream and of his character… he’d be like this if he was sentenced to slavery underground for ten thousand years. How silly and superficial could you be? He was most definitely part fairy, and fairies always rubbed Cam the wrong way.
She sighed again. As soon as they were off this bus, she’d never have to look at or talk him again. Then, everything would be fine. Surely. She snorted, listening to her own reasoning. Who was she kidding? She was stuck going to this camp. Traveling far from civilization, forced to participate in group activities in the wilderness. She was going to die.
Or somebody else was, anyway.
Rewrites with a Faerie Pen 