Down the Well, page 15
Lore could see Mathilde brace for some sort of talk, but it didn’t come.
“I brought these for you. Here.” The older sibling passed the folded clothes that were draped over her crossed arms, including a green flannel, to her adventuring sibling.
“How’d you know?” Mathilde’s voice was hushed, diminished after being caught.
“What?” Her gaze narrowed on her sister. “That you and your little human friend were outside on the porch peering in like a pair of weirdos?” Minifred looked at Lore, silver eyes cutting against her skin. Then her gaze shifted again to her youngest sister. “Call it a gut feeling.” Silence hung like a heavy fog as Minifred paused. “We need to talk, though. Someone dropped a letter off for you today.”
“What?” Mathilde handed the green flannel to Lore, then faced her sister once again. “Who?”
Minifred chewed on the inside of her furry cheek.
Mathilde ignored this and pushed both Lore and her sister out of her small room.
“I’ll meet you downstairs, Human. Going to change.”
Lore followed behind a silent Minifred. She rubbed the black fabric of the dress she came in between an index finger and thumb. The door latched behind her and Minifred. She had come in this dress, though it didn’t feel like something she actually wore on a casual day. Why did she know that? And why had she been wearing that?
But the cream dress the mice were wearing today matched hers down to the lace trim. Coincidence? Who knew at this point? She was trapped in a world of talking animals, so it seemed possible.
Once they reached the ground floor, Minifred quickly went over to collect the mismatched teacups.
“It’s a nice set,” Lore muttered as she walked over to the oversized rocker.
The mouse’s stern gaze remained fixed on the porcelain. “They’re not a set.”
Lore tilted her head as she lay the black dress on the arm of the rocker. “They are though.” The air between the two felt like it was thick with some invisible smog. Lore’s eyes softened as she continued to speak, “Even if they don’t look the same and were meant to be among other groups, they are better together because their differences complement each other.”
Minifred silently sat the tea tray on the kitchen table where Lore had once listened to the talking cards. The mouse didn’t turn to face her, just forced a laugh and let her shoulders drop. “S’pose that’s why my sister looks fondly on you, human.”
Before Lore could ask her to elaborate, the sound of the stairs groaning meant a certain squirrelly gray mouse was amidst the conversation now.
“Fond of what?” Mathilde demanded.
The older mouse’s hand spread out on the table, her head hung low between her arms. She gripped the piece of paper so tight that it crumpled around her fingers. “Nothing.” Her voice was as pulled tightly as a rubber band that may snap at any moment.
Lore left the black dress where it was on the rocker’s arm in favor of putting on the green flannel first. The fabric sliding on her arms felt like a warm hug from someone who may have known her before. Before this little adventure in the world of Thimbleton.
She rolled her eyes as she slid off the itchy white stockings. Such a silly, nonsensical name. As she folded the knitted stockings and placed them beside the black dress, the larger garment fell. Inside of the folded dress, a pop of green peeked out at her.
Lore tilted her head as she knelt down and unwrapped the black dress revealing a pair of cotton green stockings. She peeked over her shoulder at Minifred. I didn’t have these on when the night I came. At least, I don’t think I did. Lore plopped down on the floor and put them on. They matched the dark green squares on her flannel to a tee, it brought a smile to her face. This was a nice surprise. I’ll have to thank her somehow. As she was about to loudly announce how much she liked the new cotton stockings, she saw Mathilde approach her sister. They were whispering something back and forth, and Lore could make out some words. Paw prints. Father. Can’t trust. Outside of town.
She slowly got up and ran a finger along the mantle. It came away coated in dust. Does this have to do with the fox prints we found?
The glass mushrooms, the guardians of the hearth, were sleeping. Her finger gently caressed the blue-spotted cap of one as it lay there. I wonder if they dream. Wonder what they dream of?
A little statue awoke with a stretch.
Lore continued to pet the creature’s cap. “You aren’t so bad.”
The glass figurine fussed away from Lore, using its limbs to push her finger away.
“Oh, this is a no-pet zone,” Lore whispered. “Sorry.”
The mushroom shook its head.
“Human,” Mathilde’s voice called.
Lore looked over her shoulder to see the mouse already halfway out the door. She quickly turned to tell the little glass mushroom bye, but it was gone. She brushed it off and rushed to the door that Mathilde had left wide open behind her.
Minifred grabbed her forearm as she passed. “Keep her safe.”
Her heart stopped at the request. She could barely keep up with the adventurer, let alone keep her safe. But the older mouse’s eyes were pleading.
Lore swallowed hard. “I’ll do my best.”
Minifred freed her iron grip, and Lore quickly laced up her stone-gray canvas shoes. Then she barreled out the door.
Mathilde was tapping a foot impatiently, looking down at an old chained pocket watch. “We’re going to be late.” Without further explanation, the mouse disappeared down the cobblestone street like an autumn breeze.
“Late? Late for what?” Lore called as she chased after her down the shadowy road that led away from town.
TWENTY-TWO
Lore panted like a dog in the humid heat of summer trying to catch her breath. With each stride, the town of Charmsend was shrinking behind them, the sounds of the celebration of life ceremony shrank with it. The only noise in her ears was the croaking of some frogs in the distance, and her legs screaming to slow down.
She was following Mathilde to… where? She didn’t dare try to fathom. Perhaps to the ends of Thimbleton.
The farther from town they went, the less lighting there was and Lore’s eyes felt strained from focusing on Mathilde’s quick figure in the dark. Her vision would blur every time her foot hit the ground as she chased after the mouse, and a small phantom would take Mathilde’s place, and then she was racing after a shadowy figure with pensive golden eyes instead of her friend. With every switch, her heartbeat quickened and the nape of her neck became chilled with a cold sweat. And as soon as she thought she could reach out and grab the figure, Mathilde’s bold, red jacket would blindside her.
The melding of memories and reality lasted until the sound of their feet beating the cobblestone path faded and was replaced by the breeze whistling through a thicket.
The mouse finally came to a stop.
“You know, I never even knew this house was out here.” Mathilde put her hands on her hips as she scanned the area below. “And so close to the barrier.”
Lore doubled over, hands braced on her knees as her lungs ached. The moment she had finally caught her breath, it was gone again with one look upward.
The dark blue-black sky held millions and millions of glittering stars that overlooked the valley. On the hilltop where they were standing, she felt like she could reach out and steal a star for herself. It reminded her of a scrapbook. Like the sky was a base sheet, and the two moons were cut from a pristine pearl paper with a beautiful glossy sheen was placed over them, giving an iridescent shine. And some powerful creator had placed the celestial bodies with care on the page.
Her eyes scanned below them. In the silvery moonlight, she scanned over an open field surrounded by trees. In the center of it sat a rundown house.
Mathilde’s steady voice followed the sound of paper crunching. “That’s it. That’s where the intruder is.”
Lore’s eyebrows knitted together. “Don’t you mean murderer?”
Mathilde shook her head and shoved the letter in her pocket. “No. Just an intruder.”
“Uh-huh, an intruder. Who just so happened to show up when your dad was got. Okay.”
Mathilde’s eyebrows raised. “What’s got you all riled up, Human?” she teased as she started heading down the hill.
“You don’t think this could be some elaborate trap?”
“Nope.”
Lore felt her cheeks heat with annoyance as she followed. “Why not?”
“Because if I thought that way—” Mathilde faltered, shook her head. “then I’d be like any other mouse in Thimbleton. Safe at home, trapped by routine, and living an illusion of a happy life.”
She pursed her lips and the tips of wheat hit her palms as the two walked to the house. “What if it is a trap, though?”
Mathilde’s tail flicked in agitation. “I guess that’s why I have you ‘round. To plan for that sort of thing.”
Lore rolled her eyes. As they neared the cabin, she felt her gut resemble a can of soda that had been shaken. She clenched her clammy palms shut, snapping some of the wheat grains from their stems. She swallowed hard as the air seemed to become thicker. Lore glanced down at Mathilde, who had already scampered up onto the porch. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she felt the house’s heavy atmosphere press down onto her shoulders.
“You comin’?” Mathilde called as she pushed open the decaying door.
“Unfortunately,” Lore answered as she stepped onto the shabby step, testing to see if the moth-eaten wood could hold her weight. With a sigh of relief, she was able to proceed up onto the porch. She lingered in the old door frame as the mouse investigated the inside of the worn home. She watched as her guide—and now responsibility, thanks to Minifred’s order—interrupted the stillness of some dust-laden items, poking and prodding them, picking them up, and looking them over.
The walls were adorned with old paintings, but they were so dusty or mildewy, Lore couldn’t clearly see the subjects. There was a large oval mirror that had a spiderweb of cracks throughout it, and the reflection was so clouded she doubted she would be able to see herself in it. Even with a light on. It hung over a fireplace that appeared to not have been properly used in years, but inside the soot-covered brick hearth, there was a small stack of charred sticks that smelled like they had just been put out.
“Mathilde,” Lore hissed.
Her companion turned, her large round ears high and alert. “What?”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Lore said as she crossed her arms, shifting her weight back and forth. “We shouldn’t be here.”
Mathilde rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, Human.” As the mouse walked into the center of the room among the sheet-covered furniture, the floorboards let out a ghastly groan. Her eyes shot wide open a moment before she disappeared through the floorboards.
Lore’s stomach flipped and flopped on itself. “Mathilde?!” she shouted, her voice being carried on the crisp night air that was blowing through the cracks of the boarded windows.
She didn’t even scream.
Lore’s brows pulled tightly together as she set one foot further into the house. So far so good.
Another step in and the wood splintered under her weight. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Mathilde?!” she called again. Her voice was strained as she remembered her promise to Minifred.
Still no answer.
Another step from Lore made the rundown house let out a miserable moan. The butterflies in her stomach swirled together like a little tornado as she took another few careful steps to peer over the Mathilde-sized hole. Lore squinted, searching for her friend. Where is she?
As Lore was thinking about all the ways Minifred would bite her head off for failing to keep her sister safe, Mathilde ran into view.
“Human! You have to come down here!”
Lore’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the broken wood. “I was just yelling for you!” she growled. “Why didn’t you answer?”
The mouse’s ears drooped as Lore scolded her, but it wasn’t long before a sly grin painted itself on her face. She folded her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. “Why don’t’cha come down here and see for yourself?”
Lore rolled her eyes, but before a semi-witty response could fall from her mouth, the choice was taken from her when the boards collapsed under her weight and she hit the cold dirt with a loud thud. It felt like a baseball bat had knocked the wind from her chest. She huffed and rolled over on her back. Her head pounded in agony, and the shower of splinters around her pricked at her skin and stung like a million little paper cuts against her legs and cheeks.
I’m really done with falling. She began picking wood chips from the long-sleeved flannel. Falling through floors, out windows, and through realities. She tossed the pieces carelessly in all directions around her. It’s tiresome, and the only thing I want to fall into is a deep sleep.
Mathilde leaned over, her emerald, sass-filled eyes sparkled with delight. “Glad you could join me,” she teased before offering a hand up.
As Lore stood to her feet, she quickly realized she would have to hunch over to walk under the house. The pale moonlight trickled through smudged windows and her eyes fell on a grime-covered table that had piles of books, a handful of beakers, and bundles of herbs covering it.
Above the table, a large square painting hung. The subject’s large, gold, almond-shaped eyes bored into her.
Lore felt like an icicle had pierced her heart. There it was. The shadow that brought her here. A bitter cold spread to her fingertips, making them tingle.
Down the well to Charmsend.
“Isn’t this interesting?” Mathilde asked as she picked up some beakers, rubbing her fingertips around the residue that clung to the glass brim.
Lore couldn’t say anything. Her gaze stayed fixated on the portrait.
“Human?” Her companion tilted her head and sat the containers down with a clink on the table.
Lore shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hide that her hands were still trembling.
“Are you okay?” Mathilde pressed.
“Yeah, fine.” She looked back at the portrait. Her heart dropped. The rest of the painting showed a happier white wolf, a younger alligator, and a smiling Sir Crinkle standing with the bat posed in front of the orange well. Lore held a shaking finger out. “Who’s the bat?”
Mathilde rubbed her hands together. “Exactly! I’ve no idea.” As the mouse continued on with any and every idea of who the bat was—from an assassin to a local nocturnal farmer—the rest of the world melted away like wax from Lore.
It was just her and the golden-eyed bat, him taunting her with a smile and wave of his hand. A flash of memories, like a set of polaroid photos, ran through her mind.
Her head began to throb anew, and the ice piercing her chest felt turned into cold claws that grasped her heart. She grabbed her temples as the pain intensified.
A sleepy little town, a wooden raven flapping in the rain and wind. An old woman with a warm smile. A field of daffodils with a small crowd gathered at the field’s edge. The earth under the crowd stretched, carrying them further and further away from her as she stumbled to approach them.
Then the vision—or was it a memory?—became a blur as she felt someone shaking her shoulders.
“Human!”
Lore’s head felt like it was spinning right off her neck, as she tried to focus on the small figure in front of her.
“Human! Snap out of it!”
The clouds that hung in her eyes slowly cleared, revealing a deeply desperate Mathilde staring back at her.
“I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered as she attempted to stand.
Mathilde firmly held Lore down by the arms. “I think it’d be better if you sat down for a while.” Her voice was gentle, like Minifred’s when calming the other sisters.
Lore didn’t fight. She didn’t have the energy inside her to do anything but follow the mouse’s advice. So, she sat there, replaying the captured images again and again in her mind.
Mathilde sat across from her and silently fidgeted with the end of her tail. She looked toward the desk, covered in the assortment of belongings that she was so thrilled about discovering, then back at Lore. The moonlight danced through the dirty windows, and the smell of musk hung in the air. Eventually, the mouse broke the few moments of silence they shared. “Are you okay?”
Lore felt the chill in her chest spread like frost on a window. She shrugged. “I think I will be.”
Mathilde leaned back onto her hands, the fur above her eye raised like a human eyebrow. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.”
Lore hugged her knees up to her chest, fighting back the tears that welled in her eyes. “I must be losing my mind.”
The mouse leaned forward, curiosity piqued. “Or regaining it,” she countered, a ring of optimism in her voice.
Lore rested her head on her knees and took a ragged breath. “I feel insane. Down a well to a magical world.” She scoffed through her sniffles. “How utterly pathetic and senseless.”
“You’re right. You’re mad.” Mathilde stood up and paced a circle around Lore. “I’d even say moonstruck… Completely batty.” She stopped pacing and her eyes fixed on the portrait hanging on the wall. The mouse’s ears pricked up. “But you know what, Human? You’re also fantastically and miraculously you.” A slight pause filled the room before Mathilde finished her thought. “And I think you are pretty great.”
Lore looked at her with bloodshot eyes, then smiled softly and wiped the stray tears from her cheeks. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”
The mouse grinned. “Oh, I know I’m fucking amazing.” She put her hands on her hips and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “It’s like I’m the main character or something.”
Footsteps above their heads squashed any possibility of continuing the uplifting conversation.
