Page 41 of Solivagant

Nothing, the beast responded.

19

JOSIAH

Chamomile. Soft floral notes. Mixed with mint. The familiar song of insects and soft hoots of nocturnal birds. The stars in the sky were so bright, brighter than I’d ever seen them. Familiar… but not. A breeze whispered over my skin and through my hair.

He’s calling me. He’s waiting.

I needed to go somewhere. Instinct pulled me to follow a familiar path. I had to be quiet, I knew that, but I wasn’t afraid. I was going to where I wanted to be.

I pulled myself up and over a stone wall. The shadows felt so welcoming.

Every step I took into the darkness filled me with hope. Excitement. Purpose.

An altar. With dried blood. I had to add to it.

The knife in my hand was familiar, the sleeve I rolled up less so. The cold blade pressed against warm skin, an arm that was different to my own. Then red beaded to the surface. Dripped onto stone. I knew the pattern I had to trace with it. Then the blood moved as if alive, following a set path as the shadows around me buzzed with energy.

He’s here.

I opened my eyes.

The air around me was cold and stale. The fog of sleep faded, and my heart rate escalated like a sudden dive into frigid water. My arm hurt from an invisible wound, my sleeve wet with blood that wasn’t there. The shadows were stagnant. Unfamiliar. As was the rest of my environment as I spun around, trying to determine where the fuck I was.

Outside again.

I’d been sleepwalking again.

I’d spent days working on a complicated lock for my door, and yet here I was, barefoot, unarmed, and half dressed in the forest once again. Only this time, I was further from home.

Go back.

Fuck. Where the fuck was I? How far had I come? How did I get the door open?

My feet were freezing as I walked, seeking anything familiar, any sign of where the fuck I’d ended up.

There was a howl in the distance, one I recognized, only it was far louder than it usually was. Much closer.

Fuck! I heard it again, and made my best guess on which direction it was coming from before promptly turning to rush in the complete opposite direction.

Go back.

Shut up!

It took hours before I found a hiking trail, and from there could figure out my way back home.

By the time I walked through the still-open back door, it was dawn, and I was freezing.

The lock I’d made seemed perfectly intact, which meant somehow I’d managed to get it open in my sleep. Fuck.

I took a hot shower to warm up. There were small cuts and scratches all over my exposed arms, cheeks, and feet. Something shifted in the mirror as I examined the small wounds to my face. There but not. I quickly stepped away.

Then I made a coffee, and another, and a third that I took with me to the workshop.

I needed to make something else. Needed some other way to make sure I didn’t end up in that forest again, because I knew without a doubt that whatever this new sleepwalking problem was, it wasn’t going to stop on its own.

Even dazed and confused, I’d felt an invisible rope pulling at me. Something almost tangible, as it tried to guide me somewhere. It felt important. It felt urgent. And it terrified me.